The rainy Pleiads wester,
Orino plunges prone,
The stroke of midnight ceases
And I lie down alone.
The rainy Pleiads wester
And seek beyond the sea
The head that I shall dream of
That will not dream of me.
poetry
A Pity. We Were Such a Good Invention by Yehuda Amichai
They amputated
your thighs off my hips.
As far as I’m concerned
they are all surgeons. All of them.
They dismantled us
each from the other.
As far as I’m concerned
they are all engineers. All of them.
A pity. We were such a good
and loving invention.
An airplane made from a man and wife.
Wings and everything.
We hovered a little above the earth.
We even flew a little.
In Autumn Morning by Sowol Kim
Under the far-off, pale-blue sky
rows of grey roofs flash.
The wind whines in the wood
through the ribbed trees.
Mists invade a mountain village
barely visible in the distance.
The rain has chilled the dawn air.
The stream freezes, studded with fallen leaves.
Memories coming alive in tears
whisper comfortingly to my soul
that cries wildly like an infant
cut with a knife.
Wasn’t there a time
when you were happy and light-hearted?
How the voice soothes,
a salve to my bruised heart.
I cry and cry at the voice,
without shame or hate.
A Purple Cloud by Sowol Kim
A purple cloud drifts away
and the sky begins to clear.
The snow fallen steadily in the night
bursts the pine grove into blossoms.
Millions of flashing flakes
dazzle in the sunlight.
I gaze on them forgetful
of what happened during the night.
A purple cloud drifts away.
The Guitar by Federico Garcia Lorca
The crying of the guitar
starts.
The goblets
of the dawn break.
The crying of the guitar
starts.
No use to stop it.
It is impossible
to stop it.
It cries repeating itself
as the water cries,
as the wind cries,
over the snow.
It is impossible
to stop it.
It is crying for things
far off.
The warm sand of the South
that asks for white camellias.
For the arrow with nothing to hit,
the evening with no dawn coming,
and the first bird of all dead
on the branch.
Guitar!
Heart wounded, gravely,
by five swords.
translated by Robert Bly
With The Joy Of That Moment by Kemal Özer
With the joy of that moment, my love
that moment when our fingers intertwine
and when our breathing blends
like steam quivering in the mouth of a volcano
With the joy of that moment, my love, that moment
when we close our eyes–to let the uproar
from a strained wire, from the depths of a precipice
collect in ourselves
With the joy of that moment, that moment
when blue stars explode behind your eyelids
when a river of fire flows down a slope
later to gush into the sky
With the joy of that moment, my love
with the joy of that wet and burning moment
when we look at one another as if for the first time
and call our names, we must embrace everything, everything
as the first heralds of a fire.
translated by Suat Karantay
On Sound by Wei Ying-wu
Ten thousand things are heard when born,
But the highest heaven’s always still.
Yet everything must begin in silence,
And into silence it vanishes.
translated by Irving Y. Lo
Longing in My Heart by Wei Ying-wu
Shall I ask the willow trees on the dike
For whom do they wear their green spring dress?
In vain I saunter to the places of yesterday,
And I do not see yesterday’s people.
Weaving through myriad courtyards and village squares,
Coming and going, the dust of carriages and horses–
Do not say I have met with no acquaintance:
Only they are not those close to my heart.
translated by Irving Y. Lo
Composed at Sunset at the Dunes of Ho-yen by Ts’en Shen
On the sands is seen the sun rising,
On the sands is seen the sun setting.
Regret for having come ten thousand li:
Achievement, fame, what things are these?
Autumn Thoughts by Ma Chih-yuan
Withered vines, old trees, crows at dusk;
A small bridge, flowing water, a few houses;
An ancient road, a lean horse in the west wind.
The evening sun sinking in the west–
A heartbroken traveler still at world’s end.
translated by Sherwin S.S. Fu
Leonard Durso 