popped up
in conversation
like Marley
it foretold of ghost
memories
of Christmases
though these
firmly rooted
in the past
and it’s not
even December
regret fills
my heart
this morning
as I turn
the page
on my desk
calendar
another month
soon another year
slips away
from what was
could have been
to what is
Author: zdunno03
Han Shan tells why he came to Cold Mountain
Thirty years ago I was born into the world.
A thousand, ten thousand miles I’ve roamed.
By rivers where the green grass lies thick,
Beyond the border where the red sands fly.
I brewed potions in a vain search for life everlasting,
I read books, I sang songs of history,
And today I’ve come home to Cold Mountain
To pillow my head on the stream and wash my ears.
translated by Burton Watson
Han Shan speaks again
When I see a fellow abusing others,
I think of a man with a basketful of water.
As fast as he can, he runs with it home,
But when he gets there, what’s left in the basket?
When I see a man being abused by others,
I think of the leek growing in the garden.
Day after day men pull off the leaves,
But the heart it was born with stays the same.
translated by Burton Watson
breakfast companions
Judy Collins came by
this morning
to sing of moons
and clowns
while I ate my eggs
followed by Mary Chapin Carpenter
Nanci Griffith Roberta Flack
and finally
in time for coffee
Emmylou
who walked from Boulder
to Birmingham
before flying over
to Izmir
to give this city boy
some country soul
who says
I don’t have a woman
in my life
any morning
afternoon evening
3am if needed
they are there
here
helping me gain
control again
Han Shan again
As long as I was living in the village
They said I was the finest man around.
But yesterday I went to the city
And even the dogs eyed me askance.
Some people jeered at my skimpy trousers,
Others said my jacket was too long.
If someone would poke out the eyes of the hawks
We sparrows could dance wherever we pleased.
translated by Burton Watson
again, Han Shan
Story on story of wonderful hills and streams,
Their blue-green haze locked in clouds!
Mists brush my thin cap with moisture,
Dew wets my coat of plaited straw.
On my feet I wear pilgrim’s sandals,
My hand holds a stick of old rattan.
Though I look down again on the dusty world,
What is that land of dreams to me?
translated by Burton Watson
goodbye
a door closes
footsteps fade
the sun sets
there is no
tomorrow
Swallow Falls by Ou-yang Hsiu
Swallows return here
to cold heights to dart through flying waters.
My friends gone, my heart sees them:
a flash of pure brilliance, glistening, long.
translated by J.P. Seaton
and one more from Han Shan
Living in the mountains, mind ill at ease,
All I do is grieve at the passing years.
At great labor I gathered the herbs of long life,
But has all my striving made me an immortal?
Broad is my garden and wrapped now in clouds,
But the woods are bright and the moon is full.
What am I doing here? Why don’t I go home?
I am bound by the spell of the cinnamon trees!
translated by Burton Watson
another one from Han Shan
Cold cliffs, more beautiful the deeper you enter–
Yet no one travels this road.
White clouds idle about the tall crags;
On the green peak a single monkey wails.
What other companions do I need?
I grow old doing as I please.
Though face and form alter with the years,
I hold fast to the pearl of the mind.
translated by Burton Watson
Leonard Durso 