Each year, come the late autumn evenings,
I sit by the lamp recalling my old home,
gardens and groves red with oranges and pomelos,
windows and doors blue with Hsiao and Hsiang waters.
But since I left you old age has come on,
I quail at the long road that parts us.
Brothers young and old, just so you’re well,
tending fields and silkworms amid these fires of war!
translated by Burton Watson
open your mind to a growth mindset and new perspectives
"Là où il n'y a pas de rivage" (Al Hallaj)
here to transcend
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Se hai un problema, aggiungi cioccolato.
you have reminded me of all those things left behind…
And there are things we leave behind.
I had to read it twice, beautiful.
It is lovely.