from Drinking Wine: 7 by T’ao Ch’ien

Color infusing autumn chrysanthemums
exquisite, I pick dew-bathed petals,

float them on that forget-your-cares
stuff. Even my passion for living apart

grows distant. I’m alone here, and still
the wine jar soon fills cups without me.

Everything at rest, dusk: a bird calls,
returning to its forest home. Chanting,

I settle into my breath. Somehow, on this
east veranda, I’ve found my life again.

translated by David Hinton

4 thoughts on “from Drinking Wine: 7 by T’ao Ch’ien

  1. Exquisitely written, serenity and calmness, in a moment of self understanding and appreciation.
    Beautifully written by the Author.
    Aussie Emu

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