tea glasses empty
talk full
afternoon passes
friend
Month: March 2015
Eastern Slope by Su Tung-p’o
Rain has washed Eastern Slope, the moon shines clear;
where townspeople walked earlier, farmers pass.
Why mind jagged stones on the hillside path?
I like the ringing sound my stick makes when it strikes.
translated by Burton Watson
from Letting the Writing Brush Go Where It Will, Three Poems: Poem 2 by Su Tung-p’o
Old men scramble to get a look at my pointy black headcloth,
doubtless because it’s proof I once held a government post.
On the old river road, where it branches three ways,
I stand alone in slanting sunlight, while others now and then go by.
translated by Burton Watson
cat’s world
cat secure
on left arm
purring contently
his world
on maps
staring at maps
on the wall
finding myself
tracing paths
toward the future
Dipping Water from the River and Simmering Tea by Su Tung-p’o
Living water needs living fire to boil;
lean over Fishing Rock, dip the clear deep current;
store the spring moon in a big gourd, return it to the jar;
divide the night stream with a little dipper, drain it into the kettle.
Frothy water, simmering, whirls bits of tea;
pour it and hear the sound of wind in pines.
Hard to refuse three cups to a dried-up belly;
I sit and listen–from the old town, the striking of the hour.
translated by Burton Watson
land
just beyond
reach
the shore
there
I Thought I’d End My Days in a Hainan Village by Su Tung-p’o
I thought I’d end my days in a Hainan village
but God sent Wu-yang to call back my soul.
Far, far, where sky lowers and eagles pass from sight:
a hairbreadth of green hill–the mainland there!
translated by Burton Watson
what it comes to
not that
at least
not always
but then again
sometimes
it does come
to that
the world shifts
morning coffee
watching my world
shift
Leonard Durso 