The snow falling hard through the night
sparkled in the starlight.
There is a house on a street in a city,
a wooden house so far away.

The child sleeping on the pillow
is plump and blond–my son.
There are no guests, no one.
Poor Istanbul out the window.

Shrill whistles screamed outside.
Loneliness feels like prison.
Munevver closed her book
and softly cried.

There is a house on a street in a city,
a wooden house so far away.
The snow falling hard through the night
sparkled in the starlight.

translated by Randy Blasing & Mutlu Konuk

The Great River wraps an arm
angling around Wu-ch’ang
Parrot Island faces the gates
of ten thousand homes.
Spring sleep in a pleasure boat
unfulfilled at dawn–
In dreams a butterfly
still seeking blossoms.

translated by Jan W. Walls

In the fog we drift hither
And yon over the dark waters.
At last our little boat finds
Shelter under a willow bank.
At midnight I am awake,
Heavy with wine. The smoky
Lamp is still burning. The rain
Is still sighing in the bamboo
Thatch of the cabin of the boat.

translated by Kenneth Rexroth

Northern mountains, and southern, too–I’ve wandered them all,
and if I look back, I see sixty-seven years of springtime festivals.

Today, given this far away into old age, all battered and broken,
I sit alone, lit incense fragrant, and listen to the sound of water.

translated by David Hinton

I am the sun in children’s eyes that can’t scorch their hands
Around me life has sweets and moisture
Though I lost my flowers long ago
My heart is heavy with hidden fruit
Wind, even though you’re late
I am already ripe

translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin

And I could not help regretting
That I made decorative patterns on my desk
Of your solidified tears
Now I have set up a miniature gravestone
In the quiet of my heart
If I had not known of your worldly existence
My heart would not have grown this heavy

Not all kindness
Gets the respect it deserves
Not all injuries
Are premeditated a long time
O starfish
Let’s be friends
My heart will be your forest of coral

translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin

there’s a way you have of talking
a familiar sound of words together
and I know I should listen
when you speak
but I‘m too busy
watching your mouth
to avoid staring in your eyes
so as not to be lost
in their depth
only trying not to get lost
gets me lost
and whatever you say
skips over my head
like some stone
thrown by some kid
on a lake
and off I go
skimming on water
until I sink
lost forever
in you