the whirling
of a fan
the hiss
of a candle
the beating
of a heart
this world
familiar
changed
a corner
turned
a light
in a window
not noticed
before
a footstep
on gravel
a scent
in the air
even the cat
senses shifting
this night

the clock
does not move
the morning
seems to never
arrive
my eyes turn
toward the West
thousands of miles
away
and a sigh
escapes unnoticed
by everyone
but me

A spring day
here at the world’s end

the world’s end where once again
the sun is going down

the oriole’s cry–
if it had tears

it could water the blossoms
on top of the trees.

translated by David Young

you tossed back
your long hair
straightened
your shoulders
and said
later
what’s left is
your scent
lingering
in the air
your smile
etched
in my mind
your promise
engraved
on my heart

I woke up one morning;
The sun came up to me;
I turned into birds and leaves;
They glittered in the spring breeze;
I turned into birds and leaves;
My arms and legs were rotting;
I turned into birds and leaves,
Birds
And leaves.

translated by Murat Nemet-Nejat

To the south-east–three thousand leagues–
The Yüan and Hsiang form into a mighty lake.
Above the lake are deep mountain valleys,
And men dwelling whose hearts are without guile.
Gay like children, they swarm to the tops of trees;
And run to the water to catch bream and trout.
Their pleasures are the same as those beasts and birds;
They put no restraint either on body or mind.
Far I have wandered throughout the Nine Lands;
Wherever I went such manners had disappeared.
I find myself standing and wondering, perplexed,
Whether Saints and Sages have really done us good.

translated by Arthur Waley

We are one half of an apple,
. . . . . . . . . .the other half is this big world.
We are one half of an apple,
. . . . . . . . . .the other half is our people.
You are one half of an apple,
. . . . . . . . . .the other half is me,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .us two. . .

translated by Randy Blasing & Mutlu Konuk