Dew drips from tall trees on a clear summer night
in the hills to the south a cuckoo calls
the widow next door comforts her child
I turn in bed and wait for first light
translated by Red Pine
poetry
from Spring Scene by Tu Fu
a letter from home
is worth a fortune
translated by David Young
poem XX by Paul Eluard
Dawn I love you I have the whole night in my veins
all night I watched you
I have everything to divine
I am sure of the darkness
giving me the power
to envelop you
to excite your desire for life
in the heart of my immobility
the power to reveal you
to liberate you to lose you
flame invisible by day.
If you go the door opens on the day
If you go the door opens on me.
translated by Stuart Kendall
from another poem of Paul Eluard
love chooses love without changing its face
translated by Stuart Kendall
poem IV by Paul Eluard
I told you for the clouds
I told you for the sea tree
for each wave for the birds in the leaves
for pebbles of noise
for the familiar hands
for the eye that becomes a face or a landscape
and the sleep that renders the sky from its color
for the entire drunken night
for the grid of the roads
for the open window for an uncovered face
I told you for your thoughts for your words
every caress every confidence endures.
translated by Stuart Kendall
from poem VII by Paul Eluard
Silence has in its breast
all the heart’s extinguished flames.
Among the starbursts of memory
the plains extend storms
and kisses multiply.
In the grand reflectors of dreams.
translated by Stuart Kendall
from a poem by Paul Eluard
I looked for you beyond waiting
beyond myself
and I love you so much that I no longer know
which of us is absent.
translated by Stuart Kendall
for some reason a poem I identify with: A Hundred Days, Free to Go by Su Tung-p’o
A hundred days, free to go, and it’s almost spring;
for the years left, pleasure will be my chief concern.
Out the gate, I do a dance, wind blows my face;
our galloping horses race along as magpies cheer.
I face the wine cup and it’s all a dream,
pick up a poem brush, already inspired.
Why try to fix the blame for past trouble?
Years now I’ve stolen posts I never should have had.
translated by Burton Watson
***Written on his release from prison after 130 days and before leaving for a remote post which was essentially like exile again.
Drank Tonight at Eastern Slope by Su Tung-p’o
Drank tonight at Eastern Slope, sobered up, drank again;
got home somewhere around third watch.
The houseboy snores like thunder;
I bang the gate but nobody answers.
Leaning on my stick, I listen to river sounds.
Always it irks me–this body not my own.
When can I forget the world’s business?
Night far gone, wind still, river creped in ripples:
I’ll leave here in a little boat,
on far waters spend the years remaining.
translated by Burton Watson
Events on West Stream: For Lu She by Wei Ting-wu
My bedroom door overlooks a jade stream
the stillness of dawn drives cares away
a fine rain reaches deserted woods
ripples spread across the water
nothing else happens all day
in the mountains the sound of an axe
you’ve lived amid dust and noise too long
come loosen those troublesome hat strings awhile
translated by Red Pine
Leonard Durso 