thunder sounds
the cat’s ear perk
waiting for the rain
to come
to wash the heat
away
Month: August 2018
a nod to Su Tung-p’o who gave a nod to Confucius: riches abound
a glass of whiskey
the cat on my arm
the sounds of night
riches abound
from White Crane Hill by Su Tung-p’o: a nod to Confucius
All my life has been like this–
what way to turn and not run into blocks?
But Heaven has sent me a dipper of water;
arm for a pillow, my happiness overflows.
translated by Burton Watson
from The Analects by Confucius
The Master said, “With coarse grain to eat, water to drink, and my bended arm for a pillow–I still have joy in the midst of these. Riches and honor unrighteously acquired are to me a floating cloud.”
translated by Burton Watson
“a classic is a book that’s never finished saying what it has to say.”
from Douglas Moore’s Art of Quotation
“a classic is a book that’s never finished saying what it has to say.”
— Italo Calvino, Italian, journalist, short story writer, writer
Tune: “Song of Picking Mulberry” by Ou-yang Hsiu
Ten years ago I was a visitor at the wine jar,
the moonlight white, the wind clear.
Then care and worry whittled me away,
time went by with astounding swiftness, and I grew old.
But though my hair has changed, my heart never changes.
Let me lift the golden flagon,
listen again to the old songs,
like drunken voices from those years long past.
translated by Burton Watson
“The most indispensable ingredient of all good home cooking: love for those you are cooking for.”
from Douglas Moore’s Art of Quotation
“The most indispensable ingredient of all good home cooking: love for those you are cooking for.”
from a line by Li Po: old friend your heart
gone the sun
halfway round the world
to you old friend
your heart
my heart
halves of a whole
and this night
coming your way
with my heart
on its way
with a nod to Shen Yüeh: remembering
remembering
the way your gown fell
to the floor
as you almost shyly
stepped away
leaving it forlornly
abandoned
like my heart
this night
one last poem from Six Poems on Remembering by Shen Yüeh
I think of when she sleeps–
struggling to stay awake when others have retired,
undoing her sheer gown without waiting to be urged,
resting on the pillow till caresses find her.
Fearful that the one by her side is watching,
she blushes under the candle’s glow.
translated by Burton Watson
Leonard Durso 