I’ve played all day in the stream. Not twilight’s yellow
lights autumn’s destined coming, root of this white hair.
What is it I’ve trusted you to rinse a thousand times away,
until not, the dust fouling my brush-tip leaves no trace?
translated by David Hinton
A single leaf falls in the yard.
Near my desk, crickets chirp sadly.
I know I cannot hold you here.
I wonder where your journey will take you.
My longing will follow you to where the mountains end,
As I seek you in my dream on a moonlit night.
When the spring river ripples green along the bank,
I beg you not to forget your promise to return.
translated by Sung-Il Lee
A mansion guarded by an elm stands by the road;
Its tall gate was built for prosperous posterity.
Now its dwellers have moved away, no cart comes by—
Only the passerby step in to avoid the rain.
translated by Sung-Il Lee
My love said he would come at moonrise;
The moon has risen, but he has not come.
I presume that where my love lives
The mountain is so high the moon rises slowly.
translated by Sung-Il Lee
After seeing off my love when dusk fell on the mountains,
I returned to lie down where white clouds float above.
Against the old wall a lyre is leaning—
To be strummed by the wind from the pines.
translated by Sung-Il Lee
After last night’s fog soaked my thatched roof,
Peach blossoms near the bamboo are suddenly in full bloom.
Drunk with wine, I forget the snowy streaks of my hair—
I wear a flowery crown, standing in the spring breeze.
translated by Sung-Il Lee
When the sun sets, the sky is inky dark;
Deep in the mountains, the ravine is cloudy.
All the human wishes retained for a thousand years
Are finally fulfilled by a single mound.
translated by Sung-Il Lee
At the bottom
of a bottle
of mezcal
–like at the end–
waiting for us
is the worm.
I chew
in dry earth
that whiteness
of living hedgerows
to know
the taste
of what will eat me.
translated by Katherine M. Hedeen
What do you think of the word metal?
Do you like it?
If I say,
the metal of your voice,
do you like it?
Metal sounds,
shimmers, endures.
Gleams in the dirt
of excavations.
“It’s a metal,” says
the Egyptologist’s helper.
A metal in Etruria,
in Uxmal,
in the remote
city of Ur.
A metal,
the metal of your voice.
translated by Katherine M. Hedeen
Leave the moon
and dogs in the yard;
leave the chrysanthemums
in the lone glass pitcher;
leave the suede mask
beneath my bed;
leave my weapons a handspan from me
and the wind in the roads;
leave me upon this thick notebook
where I write
the words you forget.
translated by Katherine M. Hedeen
Through the view point of camera...
L'essenziale è invisibile e agli occhi e al cuore. Beccarlo è pura questione di culo
In Kate's World
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
Fine Arts Blog
Life, love and destiny.
4TheRecord is dedicated primarily to Ausmusic from all eras and most genres, we will explore the dynamics of the creative process, and reveal the great drama, lyricism, musicality, and emotion behind each classic song.
Fii schimbarea pe care vrei sa o vezi in lume!
Moments de vie, fragments de textes et quelques notes...
Unleashing the beauty of creativity
there's nothing like stories
quiet moments in nature
Art and Literature Beyond Borders
A bird's eye view of St. George, Utah
Keep on Reading
Chronicling an ever-changing city through faded and forgotten artifacts
Leonard Durso 