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
there's nothing like stories
quiet moments in nature
Art and Literature Beyond Borders
A bird's eye view of St. George, Utah
Keep on Reading
Chronicling an ever-changing city through faded and forgotten artifacts
I read, rant and write ;)
Sono una donna libera. Nel mio blog farete un viaggio lungo e profondo nei pensieri della mente del cuore e dell anima.
The Green Lizard Log
Refresh and start a new chapter
A Discovery of Enlightening Insights, Information, Humor, Writings and Musings
Se non combatti per costruire la tua vita non ti rimarrà niente
THE RUSH HOUR BLOG
Becky Ross Michael: author & editor
We are all just babes in the woods.
Poetry, Opinion, Politics
Leonard Durso 
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.