drinking coffee
spiked with Bailey’s
on the balcony
the morning chill
in my bones
watching the sun
light the islands
out at sea
gulls call forth
the morning
as I drift
in my mind
across an ocean
where I long
to be
Author: zdunno03
Another translation of a major Turkish writer by Rukiye Uçar on FORGOTTEN HOPES.
-Youth is such a thing-
I quiver deep inside with a voice every day,
Every time the clock chimes, repeatedly:
“What have you done of your field, where is the harvest?
Will you proceed into the night with nothing in your hands?
Just think! You are halfway through your life.
Youth is such a thing that comes and goes;
And after that you are left out on a limb;
You run from one window to another.”
Oh those days I could not know the value of,
The bunch of roses I threw away without smelling,
The fountain whose water I wasted,
The blowing wind I could not set sail against!
Yet, the waters tend to flow to the west,
The sound of the nightingale on the tree has changed
Shadows are settling on my window;
Your time is coming, oh memories.
(Cahit Sıtkı Tarancı, Gençlik Böyledir İşte, Varlık, July 1, 1937)
-Translated by Rukiye Uçar…
The Third Day of the Third Month: To My Cousins and Thinking of Commissioner Ts’ui by Wei Ying-wu
The season seems to be ending early
this morning felt sadder still
the wind stirs a heartbreaking spring
and the pond chills a flowerless night
the longer I look at the wine
the clearer you become
who is that walking along the winding river
looking for my footprints and thinking of me
translated by Red Pine
morning in Maltepe
the night ending
light filtering in
the windows
the sea
dimly visible
beyond
Lord Hsieh’s Pavilion by Li Pai (Li Po)
The place where Lord Hsieh said goodbye
everything here makes me sad
the departing travelers the moon in the sky
the deserted mountain the current in the stream
the flowers by the pond the longer spring days
the bamboo outside the window the sounds of autumn nights
today and the past are connected
in this song about a journey long ago
translated by Red Pine
My Prince Is Traveling by Hsieh T’iao
Green grass is spreading like fine silk thread
even ordinary trees are decked out in pink
it doesn’t matter you haven’t returned
by the time you do spring will be gone
translated by Red Pine
On a Moonlit Night Meeting at Hsu Eleven’s Thatched Hut by Wei Ying-wu
In an empty study with nothing to do
you loosened your hair strings and waited for a friend
it wasn’t a night for reading
but for writing poems about the moon
after listening to the bell and sleeping in comfort
we rolled up dew-covered blinds
and sensed another fall was near
while the fading river tried to hold off dawn
translated by Red Pine
Moonlit Night by Wei Ying-wu
A brilliant moon wanders the spring city,
thick dew luminous among fragrant grasses.
I sit, longing. Empty, this window of gauze
torn and fluttering in crystalline radiance,
crystalline radiance where it ends like this:
torn more and more, a person growing old.
translated by David Hinton
Parting from My Yin Daughter by Wang An-shih
I’ve only lived thirty years and already I feel old
wherever I look I’m beset by sorrow
I’ve come in this little boat to say goodbye tonight
here where the shores of life and death divide us
translated by Red Pine
note: written to his daughter who was buried on a small hill beyond a moat just before he had to leave the district for his next government posting
New Year’s Eve by Hsin Ch’i-chi
In the east wind last night a thousand trees burst forth
showered down
a rain of stars
jeweled horses and carriages and incense filled the road
the tremulous sound of a phoenix flute
the transforming glow of a jade vase
all night lanterns swayed
and she of the moth eyebrows and flower-decked hair
of laughter that beguiles and the subtlest of perfumes
whom I have searched for in crowds a hundred times
as I turned my head
she was there
where the lantern light was faint
translated by Red Pine
Leonard Durso 