By candlelight, I read your poems.
It is almost dawn when I finish.
I rub my weary eyes
beside the guttering candle.
I sit motionless
in the predawn dark,
listening to the wind-driven waves
lapping at the bow.
translated by Sam Hamill
By candlelight, I read your poems.
It is almost dawn when I finish.
I rub my weary eyes
beside the guttering candle.
I sit motionless
in the predawn dark,
listening to the wind-driven waves
lapping at the bow.
translated by Sam Hamill
Whereabouts of a Wanderer's Soul
Towards a Read/Writ/ing of World Literature
Live, Love, Travel and Laugh (Proudly Pinoy)
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WHEREVER YOU GO, GO WITH ALL YOUR HEART.
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A Little Writing Workshop of Horrors.
Se hai un problema, aggiungi cioccolato.
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In happiness my words I lack, in grief they overflow.
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I think I like this one best of all. Translation is tricky but they all convey the same substance. This one more beautifully, I think. Thanks for sharing all three.
Thank you. I used to have the Burton Watson translation on my corkboard by my desk, mainly because it was the first one I read. But they are all beautifully sad.
Still love these classical Chinese poems. You can skim on the surface or sink deeply into them…
I always return to them more frequently than to anyone else.
Reblogged this on From 1 Blogger 2 Another.
Thank you, Douglas, for reblogging this poem.