I’ve heard that even “men of feeling”
don’t treasure the feeling of parting.
Frosty sky drips a chill
on the cold city wall.
The long night spreads
like water overflowing.
There’s the sound of the watch-horn, too.
The zen man’s heart is empty, yes,
of all but these.
translated by J.P. Seaton
poetry by Robert Ford
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THE BLOG THAT CELEBRATES MUSIC NO MATTER WHAT...
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Beautiful written 👍
Glad you like it.
an empty railway station just after the train has gone…
That, too.