My boat goes west, yours east.
Heaven’s a wind for both journeys.
From here, the clouds and the mountains,
the horizon’s vague.
A thousand miles . . .
My heart, a dark swan,
confused in the vastness.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Month: January 2025
untitled poem by Chou Wen
These few drops, these
tears of autumn on my heart.
I dare not let the first one fall
lest autumn’s river well
on endlessly.
translated by J.P. Seaton
A Walk on the East Bank of the River by Kao Ch’i
Setting sun shines on half the river . . .
This time of day I take walks alone.
Sunset can deepen sadness:
but autumn purifies the poet’s heart.
Birds peck a rotting willow:
Insects cling to its dying leaves.
I still feel homesick. Why?
Now that I’ve finally come home.
translated by J.P. Seaton
from Seven Verses by Yun-k’an Tzu
Laugh if you want,
I understand.
So I’ve used up a fortune . . .
I’ve thought it over carefully,
and it doesn’t bother me.
I’ll just straggle down this road
till I’ve danced to some paradise . . .
translated by J.P. Seaton
Falling Asleep by Wendell Berry
Raindrops on the tin roof.
What do they say?
We have all
Been here before.
A Dance by Wendell Berry
The stepping-stones, once
in a row along the slope,
have drifted out of line,
pushed by frosts and rains.
Walking is no longer thoughtless
over them, but alert as dancing,
as tense and poised, to step
short, and long, and then
longer, right, and then left.
At the winter’s end, I dance
the history of its weather.
The Cold Pane by Wendell Berry
Between the living world
and the world of death
is a clear, cold pane;
a man who looks too close
must fog it with his breath,
or hold his breath too long.
on reading
lost in words
on the page
coffee grows cold
in my cup
light grows
then fades
away
Seeing Off a Friend by Li Po
Green mountains draw a line beyond the Northern Rampart.
White water curls around the Eastern Wall.
This place? Good as any for a parting . . .
Ahead just the lonely briars where you’ll march ten thousand li.
Floating clouds: the traveler’s ambition.
Falling sun: your old friend’s feelings.
We touch hands, and now you go.
Muffled sighs, and the post horses, neighing.
translated by J.P. Seaton
from Written in Imitation of the Song Called “Hard Traveling: 2 by Pao Chao
In human life the woes are many and the satisfactions few:
so seize the moment when you’re in your prime.
If one of us achieve a noble aim, the rest may take joy in it.
But best keep cash for wine on the bedside table.
Whether my deeds be scribed on bamboo and silk
is surely beyond my knowing.
Life or death, honor or shame? These I leave to High Heaven.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Leonard Durso 