As certain as color
Passes from the petal,
Irrevocable as flesh,
The gazing eye falls through the world.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
poetry
untitled poem 1 by Ono No Komachi
Imperceptible
It withers in the world
This flower-like human heart.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
from BOLINAS JOURNAL by Joe Brainard
Last night in the bar a girl Bill and I were talking to especially stands out in my head. A “hippie” type. (Sorry, but that’s what words are for) Very sincere in what she believed in. But what she believed in was totally fucked up. But like I said, very sincere about it all.
It always bothers me, this combination. Of sincere and wrong. It doesn’t seem fair. Sincere should always be right.
HISTORY by Joe Brainard
With history piling up so fast, almost every day is the anniversary of something awful.
Pliant by Chu Shu Chen
Spring flowers, Autumn moons,
Water lilies still carry
Away my heart like a lost
Boat. As long as I am flesh
And bone I will never find
Rest. There will never come a
Time when I will be able
To rest my emotions.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
Fisherman by Ou Yang Hsiu
The wind blows the line out from his fishing pole.
In a straw hat and grass cape the fisherman
Is invisible in the long reeds.
In the fine spring rain it is impossible to see very far
And the mist rising from the water has hidden the hills.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
Moon, Flowers, Man by Su Tung P’o
I raise my cup and invite
The moon to come down from the
Sky. I hope she will accept
Me. I raise my cup and ask
The branches, heavy with flowers,
To drink with me. I wish them
Long life and promise never
To pick them. In company
With the moon and the flowers,
I get drunk, and none of us
Ever worries about good
Or bad. How many people
Can comprehend our joy? I
Have wine and moon and flowers.
Who else do I want for drinking companions?
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
Wine and Rain by Li Shang-yin
I ponder on the poem of The Precious Dagger.
My road has wound through many years.
. . .Now yellow leaves are shaken with a gale;
Yet piping and fiddling keep the Blue Houses merry.
On the surface, I seem to be glad of new people;
But doomed to leave old friends behind me,
I cry out from my heart for Shin-feng wine
To melt away my thousand woes.
\translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
To One Unnamed: poem 1 by Li Shang-yin
A faint phoenix-tail gauze, fragrant and doubled,
Lines your green canopy, closed for the night. . .
Will your shy face peer round a moon-shaped fan,
And your voice be heard hushing the rattle of my carriage?
It is quiet and quiet where your gold lamp dies,
How far can a pomegranate-blossom whisper?
. . .I will tether my horse to a river willow
And wait for the will of the southwest wind.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
On The Gate Tower At Yo-chou by Tu Fu
I had always heard of Lake Tung-t’ing–
And now at last I have climbed to this tower.
With Wu country to the east of me and Ch’u to the south,
I can see heaven and earth endlessly floating.
. . .But no word has reached me from kin or friends.
I am old and sick and alone with my boat.
North of this wall there are wars and mountains–
And here by the rail how can I help crying?
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
Leonard Durso 