Late-light shadow across thousand-mountain
snows. In cold spring, a hundred-foot tower.
I climb up alone, and then back down alone.
Who can manage such distances of the heart?
translated by David Hinton
Author: zdunno03
Spring South of the Yangtze by Tu Mu
A thousand miles of oriole song, reds setting greens ablaze,
river villages with mountains for walls, wineshop flags, wind.
Of those four hundred eighty Southern Dynasty monasteries,
how many towers and terraces remain in this mist and rain?
translated by David Hinton
Egrets by Tu Mu
Robes of snow, crests of snow, and beaks of azure-jade,
they fish in shadowy streams. Then starting up into
flight, they leave emerald mountains for lit distances.
Pear blossoms, a tree-full, tumble in the evening wind.
translated by David Hinton
afternoon ceremony
music plays
a Turkish ballad
on this not quite
spring day
they test the microphone
set up tables
for food
and drink
a podium for speeches
awards to be given
employees recognized
banners flap
in the breeze
a festive mood
prevails
a joyous way
to end the day
as we approach
one more holiday
my only regret
I forgot to wear
a tie
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
Autumn Night, Sent To Ch’iu Tan by Wei Ying-wu
This autumn night become thoughts of you,
I wander along, offer cold heaven a chant.
In mountain emptiness, a pinecone falls.
My recluse friend must not be asleep either.
translated by David Hinton
might have been: for Maureen
you & I
will always be
in our early 30s
in LA
you up the road
from me
on Coast Highway
coming to work
at I&L
on Tuesdays & Thursdays
and me
spending too many evenings
drinking bourbon
in the Airlane Bar
across the street
and how life
might have been different
as you once mentioned
in Venice
if we had made
other choices
back then
all the men
at I&L
were a little bit
in love with you
but certainly no more
than me
I often wonder
if I had been sober
more often
had acted sooner
what might have
could have
happened
but we did
what we did
chose
what we chose
lived
as best we could
under the circumstances
but always
always in my mind
you are up the road
from me
overlooking the ocean
and I just never seem
to arrive
on the right day
In Idleness, Facing Rain by Wei Ying-wu
All dark mystery, I embrace it replete,
alone, night thinning into morning.
In this empty library, I face tall trees,
sparse rain soaking through rustling
leaves. Nesting swallows flutter, wet.
Orchid petals blur across stone steps.
It’s quiet. Memories come, and grief
suddenly caught and buffeted in wind.
translated by David Hinton
Autumn Night by Wei Ying-wu
I
It’s autumn again. Courtyard trees rustle.
Deep in shadow, insects grieve on and on.
Alone, facing the upper library, I doze,
listening to cold rain clatter in the dark,
window-lattice now and then in the wind
trembling, lamp left failing on the wall.
Grief and sorrow, a lifetime remembered
this far away–all abandoned to the night.
II
Frost and dew spread away–thick, cold.
Star River swings back around, radiant.
Come a thousand niles, north wind rises
past midnight, startling geese. Branches
whisper. Icy leaves fall. And such clarity
in isolate depths of quiet, fulling-stones
grieve. I gaze out through empty space,
tangles of the heart all cold scattered ash.
translated by David Hinton
from Next To You by Stevie Van Zandt
You can’t walk away, baby,
without getting scarred.
Leonard Durso 