It’s been so long since I headed for East Mountain—
how many times have the roses bloomed?
White clouds have scattered themselves away—
and this bright moon—whose house is it setting on?
translated by Burton Watson
It’s been so long since I headed for East Mountain—
how many times have the roses bloomed?
White clouds have scattered themselves away—
and this bright moon—whose house is it setting on?
translated by Burton Watson
Moj život, moje zadovoljstvo
Crafting, Cooking & Journalling through Life
la condivisione del dolore è un dono di amore da parte di chi lo fa e di chi lo riceve
A picture tells a thousand stories!
Epistles, Thoughts, and Concerns
Here, Now and Somewhere else
Moda-Creative thinking
Lucania la mia ragione di vita
Deal with the faults of others as gently as your own.
....But if you stay in my lane long enough, you'll experience my emotions...
Daily wind
Welcome to my world
Gesundheit - Rezepte - Reisen
Blog de literatura e artes
Urban art and culture
We're all on a road to somewhere.
My poetry is my religion.
poetry by Robert Ford
This is beautiful.
I agree.
Very nice!
Glad you like it.
Beautiful…. and it reminds me of my life and how much I would like to hike up “east mountains” again….
Alas, I’m stuck here…
I think we all have an “East Mountain” in our minds that we long to return to.
Ah, nice. Now I don’t feel so alone when thinking of my East Mountain. 🙂
Fine Li Po. I read, he isn’t where he wants to be and hasn’t for years, and scattered, he “scattered” himself away. I wish I could consult with Mr. Li himself. This feels rather subjective of me.
He spent most of his life wandering in exile since he kept falling out of favor in court.
I’ll bet he could tell us whose house the moon is setting on.
I bet you are right.