The traveler’s heart has a hundred thoughts already,
his lonely journey piling mile on endless mile.
The river darkens, rain about to fall;
waves turn white as the wind comes up.
translated by Burton Watson
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Leonard Durso 
Love that imagery of compiling, of stacking–as if he’s getting heavier. Great piece.
I agree. He is getting heavier as those hundreds of thoughts pile up just like those miles.
Reblogged this on From 1 Blogger 2 Another.
Thanks for reblogging this, Douglas.