the world
has been reduced
to shadows
and though I sit
next to you
on the bench
you only see
a shadow
where my face is
the food
on your plate
the club soda
in your glass
are shadows
you know
the East River
is out there
can hear it
the seagulls calling
can even smell it
but it belongs
to a world
in shadow
that one day
will be black
and though you talk
of alternatives
there is fear
undercoating
your words
as the rest
of your health
slips away
into shadows
taking you
unwillingly
along
Author: zdunno03
Untitled Poem 3 by Li Shang-yin
East winds hush and sigh, and delicate spring rains arrive:
out beyond the lotus pond, there’s the whisper of thunder:
the golden moon-toad gnaws a lock open: incense drifts in:
jade tiger circles back, pulling silk rope to draw well-water:
the secret love of Lady Chia and young Han led to marriage,
and the Lo River goddess shared her bed with a Wei prince:
don’t hope for spring passion that rivals all those blossoms
burgeoning forth: an inch of longing’s just an inch of ash.
translated by David Hinton
UnTitled Poem 2 by Li Shang-yin
It’s so hard to be together, and so hard to part: a tender
east wind is powerless: the hundred blossoms crumble:
the heart-thread doesn’t end until the silkworm’s dead,
and tears don’t dry until the candle’s burnt into ash:
she grieves, seeing white hair in her morning mirror,
and chanting at night, she feels the chill of moonlight:
exquiste Paradise Mountain–it isn’t so very far away,
and that azure bird can show us the way back anytime.
translated by David Hinton
Untitled Poem 1 by Li Shang-yin
The pellucid road winds back around into twilight clouds:
a seven-scented carriage, cry of a dappled horse cut short:
spring wind offers itself everywhere, opens into enticing
smiles that leave a country’s ten thousand homes in ruins.
translated by David Hinton
Offhand Poem by Li Shang-yin
Idle sleep in a small pavilion clears away the ease of wine:
mountain pomegranate and sea cypress, branches tangled
together on a rippling-water bed-mat, pillows of amber:
and nearby, a fallen hairpin, a pair of kingfisher feathers.
translated by David Hinton
my apology
Hello everyone who follows me,
I just want to apologize beforehand if I am late in reading and responding to your posts. There are quite a few of you now that I follow religiously and I know you in turn follow me by our “likes” and comments. I appreciate all of you and though like you I spend a good part of my day reading your writing and viewing your photos &/or artwork (and I truly enjoy that time), I might be a little slow in doing so for the rest of this week and the beginning of next. I must return to NY for one of those in quickly and out even faster visits to go to the Turkish Consulate to get my passport stamped for my work visa. This is my second such quickie visit and will be even more harried than the last one since I’m sqeezing in two very old friends I couldn’t see last time and also some of my family as well as spending more time in The Strand picking up books not only for me but for my good friend Ali that we can’t get here in Turkey. I also intend to eat my fair share of Italian sausage (something I miss terribly here) and the hotel I am staying at is within walking distance of a favorite Thai restaurant of mine so I plan to indulge myself with people/things I have sorely missed these long years I have been away. Some of my family I have not seen for almost 10 years so it will be a long awaited reunion. Hence, the last poem I posted by Tu Mu. If you substitute “what were you doing” for “who were you fighting” than the poem applies beautifully to me.
So please bear with me if I am somewhat absent, ( though I have drafted a few poems to post later from my iPad) but it’s the reading of your posts I may be somewhat delayed in. I tend to do most of my reading from my yahoo inbox rather than The Reader since that is often unreliable, and that inbox fills up pretty quickly. But I don’t lose anything that way and will read them all eventually.
Now to have my last two sessions today at work before I go home to pack, pay some attention to the cat, and catch a few hours sleep before the Petkim driver comes to collect me at 2am for my drive to the airport and the beginning of my journey.
Till later, Len
Back Home Again by Tu Mu
Kids keep tugging at my robes, asking:
Why did it take you so long to come back?
And who were you fighting those months
and years to win all that silk-white hair?
translated by David Hinton
Sent Far Away by Tu Mu
These mountains emerald clouds at the far end of distance.
In tonight’s clarity, one sound: a whisper of white snow.
I’m sending thoughts of you a thousand miles of moonlight:
scraps of light along canyon streams, haze of steady rain.
translated by David Hinton
The Han River by Tu Mu
Steady and full, all surging swells and white gulls in flight,
it flows springtime deep, a green so pure it should dye robes.
Going south and coming back north, I’ve grown older, older.
Late light lingers, farewell to a fishing boat bound for home.
translated by David Hinton
on gardens
there are words
inadequate
actions
incomprehensible
feelings
misunderstood
some things are best
left alone
to wither
on their own accord
where blossoms
are impossible
to cultivate
Leonard Durso 