Mountains rise over mountains and smoke from valleys;
the dust of the world can never touch the white gulls.
The old fisherman is by no means disinterested;
he owns, in his boat, the moon over the west river.
translated by Kim Jong-gil
Mountains rise over mountains and smoke from valleys;
the dust of the world can never touch the white gulls.
The old fisherman is by no means disinterested;
he owns, in his boat, the moon over the west river.
translated by Kim Jong-gil
The view from here ... Or here!
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- Renee verona -
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ab ovo usque ad mala
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Know the lived
Nice moon poems lately. Such a moon out there too.
I once wrote “contrails at night are prettier.” Tonight I saw contrail at night through clouds and they are prettiest.
The moon seems to attract us all.
And birds. Seems a thing poets and birds.
Seasons, too, and what they bring.
and no-one can take it from him
Right.