When grasses in Yen ripple like emerald silk
and lush mulberry branches sag in Ch’in,
he’ll dream of coming home one day,
and I’ll still be waiting, brokenhearted.
We’re strangers, spring wind and I. Why is it
here, slipping inside my gauze bed-curtains?
translated by David Hinton
A writer inspired by nature and human nature
A bit of this and that
Smiling • Writing • Dreaming
Heart of gold, stardust soul. Wearing a smile like a loaded gun.
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I do not TRUST, I BELIEVE. 😄
Smile. I write my feelings. true and honest and simple.
As hell's beverage hostess, I hereby reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. That said, you are all banished.
Avid Writer, Reader and Coffee Drinker
I LEAVE YOUR ROAD TO WALK ON MY GRASS.
Finding Me
Reading and dreaming
Fiction Made Real
...in My Mind's Eye
whispers & screams & in betweens
Beautiful poem! Thanks!
Glad you liked it.
I did!
such longing…
Yes, and this is written really from a woman’s point of view, probably his wife since he was always in exile far from home.
Love the imagery of “emerald silk! 🙂 ❤
Glad you do, Natalie.
😊❤️
Lovely feelings.
Glad you think so.
Thanks n welcome.dear.