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
poetry by Robert Ford
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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.