there were Christmases
birthdays
a gift here
a gift there
words exchanged
and some unspoken
pictures in an album
letters never sent
a shot of whiskey
here here
now
that lump
in the throat
called regret
Month: August 2018
At Yellow Crane Tower Taking Leave of Meng Hao-jan as He Sets Off for Kuang-ling by Li Po
My old friend takes leave of the west at Yellow Crane Tower,
in the misty third-month blossoms goes downstream toYang-chou.
The far-off shape of his lone sail disappears in the blue-green void,
and all I see is the long river flowing to the edge of the sky.
translated by Burton Watson
oh how different
it’s easy to identify
with the longing
of those ancient Chinese friends
of mine
but oh how different
to feel at home
here in self-imposed exile
among people more alike
than different
from those from whom
I came
in the eyes
it’s the same smile
all these years
warm kind
looking out
to the world
yet there now
in the eyes
a touch of sorrow
perhaps
at this lingering awareness
of life
not always living up
to one’s expectation
For Ku Yen-hsien, A Poem for Him to Give to His Wife by Lu Yün
I on the sunny side of Three Rivers,
you in the gloom south of Five Lakes,
mountains and seas vast between us,
farther apart than bird and fish–
my eyes envision your lovely form,
my ears still ring with your soft sweet voice.
I lie down alone, full of far-off thoughts;
waking, I stroke the collar of my empty robe.
Beautiful one, sharer of my longing,
who but you will ever hold my heart?
translated by Burton Watson
all those reasons
leaving always hard
those good times
gone forever
but returning
ah, there they are
all those reasons
I left
waiting for me
Following the Rhymes of Chiang Hui-shu by Su Tung-p’o: written on a voyage home from exile shortly before he died.
Bell and drum on the south river bank–
home! I wake startled from a dream.
Drifting clouds–so the world shifts;
lone moon–such is the light of my mind.
Rain drenches down as from a tilted basin;
poems flow out like water spilled.
The two rivers vie to send me off;
beyond treetops I see the slant of a bridge.
translated by Burton Watson
a soundtrack playing
a soundtrack
playing
in airports coffee shops
from store speakers
out of passing cars
their lives
mingling somehow
with mine
a soundtrack
playing
for the movie
of our lives
“The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.”
from Douglas Moore’s Art of Quotation
“The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, book quote from The Brothers Karamazov
another holiday
another holiday
here there
somewhere in between
just passing through
on the way
to someplace else
Leonard Durso 