Oscar Johnson refused to back off from a claim that he was born and raised in center-city Detroit, where, he said, he first learned the principles of human diplomacy. He listed them in precise order–compromise, give-‘n’-take, courtesy, magnanimity. “An’ if you still don’ get what you want,” Oscar said, “then crack the sons of bitches with a sledgehammer.” Diplomacy, he was fond of saying, is the art of persuasion; and war–never citing his sources–is simply diplomacy continued through other means. . .
Author: zdunno03
At West Creek in Ch’u-chou by Wei Ying-wu
Alone, I savor wildflowers tucked in along the creek,
and there’s a yellow oriole singing in treetop depths.
Spring floods come rain-swollen and wild at twilight.
No one here at the ferry, a boat drifts across of itself.
translated by David Hinton
from Lady Midnight Songs of the Four Seasons: Autumn 6
You left in early spring, and I long
to have you back by autumn’s end.
How I hate this river flowing east:
all year, never a care for the west.
translated by David Hinton
An Early Walk on Shang Mountain by Wen T’ing-yün
Departing at dawn, carriage bells ajingle–
The traveler grieves for his ancestral home.
A cock’s crow, a thatched teahouse in the moonlight,
Human footprints on the frosted bridge planking,
Betel leaves fallen by the mountain road,
Orange blossoms bright on the station wall–
And so I dream a dream of Ch’ang-an,
Where ducks and geese settle, crowding the pond.
translated by William R. Schultz
dreams of Lyon Place
I’ve been sleeping
lately
looking for a dream
the place
familiar
my dog there
and my father
though neither knew
the other
both having lived
decades apart
my mother is cooking
I can smell her sauce
simmering
my grandmother
is kneading dough
for her cavatelli
Johnny and I
both get a piece
to roll
in our hands
before eating
my father stands
holding the dog’s leash
and before their walk
he pats my mother
on the ass
and says
that’s why
I married her
she giggles
like she always does
at that joke
and though it should be
Charlie
taking the dog out
it is my father
his white shirt sleeves
rolled up
my grandmother sings
some Neapolitan song
Harry is there
laughing
George Robert
my sister Theresa
is coming
later
with the kids
a holiday
maybe
or just Sunday dinner
at two o’clock
Uncle Mike
from New Jersey
is there
my cousin Carolyn
Aunt Mary too
and Uncle Frank
watching Westerns
on TV
though he was dead
long before
Uncle Joe
with his cigar
in mouth
is dealing cards
Aunt Bernie Cousin Betty
are setting the table
Uncle Dominic
is mixing gin rickeys
Charlie is reading
The New York Times
on the back porch
my Grandfather
picking tomatoes
in the backyard
and suddenly
all the people
I’ve loved
are in one place
one house
on Lyon Place
and we will sing
my mother will dance
to Lou Monte
Calypso Italiano
George will know
all the words
and everyone
will laugh
the whole day
long
Early Autumn in the Mountains by Wen T’ing-yün
Here, next the mountain, the cold comes early,
Crisp and clear, the air in the thatched hut.
Barren trees admit the sun to the window,
The cistern, brimming full, is still and silent.
Fallen nuts mark the monkeys’ trail,
Dry leaves rustle to the passage of deer.
A plain zither–an untrammeled heart–
Hollowly accompanies the clear spring at night.
translated by William R. Schultz
A Spring Day in the Countryside by Wen T’ing-yün
Astride a mount pawing misty sedge grass,
How can one be resentful of the vernal spring
Where butterfly wings dust the flowers at dawn
And the backs of crows glisten everywhere in the setting sun;
Where lush willows compete with the fragrant sash,
And melancholy hills tighten kingfisher eyebrows.
The feeling of separation, what is there to say
But that the heart is an endless river of stars.
translated by William R. Schultz
on the LIRR
1
the blonde
two seats away
saying to her friend
I love Italian people too
but you have to appreciate
the differences
I just got over him
and I know if I went
to that house
I’d start seeing him
again
I get weak
in the knees
just thinking
about it
2
Saturday night
homeward bound
among swarms
of young LIers
heading in
to the city
they have recently
discovered
behaving typically
like young people
men with six-packs
women in short skirts
the din louder
than a Stones’ concert
and this one-time resident
wishing
he was home
several thousand miles
away
on sushi & sake: for Jia-ling, Jenny, & Fernando
sushi & sake
at a table
with friends
4 years
gone
too long
to go without
this
Returning East to Choukuei Village on Bathing Day: For Tuan by Wei Ying-wu
For thirty years an itinerant official
I no longer recognized the fields
but since it was my day to bathe
I traveled back to our village
the rains had stopped and the mountains were clear
The wind was warm and plants were thriving
the mountain-fed streams were deep and pure
the forests beginning to dance with light
but the bamboo was looking a bit sad
and the garden was nothing but weeds
and I was startled by the gray at your temples
and the sight of where we once played
and the heartbreaking news of departures
and the changes that had ravaged this place
I wanted to speak but who would care
and now I’m worrying about reports again
I’d be better off giving up this worldly career
fortune and fame are so hollow
compared to finally being with you
here in my declining and future years
translated by Red Pine
Leonard Durso 