Ten years ago I was a visitor at the wine jar,
the moonlight white, the wind clear.
Then care and worry whittled me away,
time went by with astounding swiftness, and I grew old.
But though my hair has changed, my heart never changes.
Let me lift the golden flagon,
listen again to the old songs,
like drunken voices from those years long past.
translated by Burton Watson
Oh oh–ah ah–
thoughts of you will never end!
Your left arm I used for a pillow,
and when you turned on your side, I turned with you.
translated by Burton Watson
The dodder vine trails with the long wind,
but its roots never break from the trunk they cling to.
If even these unfeeling things shun separation,
how could we, who have feelings, bear to part?
translated by Burton Watson
The wind
that for a time blew so wildly
has died down–
what blossoms it left,
fall soft
translated by Hiroaki Sato & Burton atson
Pearls plucked
the oyster shells
lie heaped in mounds
showing us
the aftermath of treasures
translated by Hiroaki Sato & Burton Watson
Drops of dew
strung on strands
of spider web–
such are the trappings
that deck out this world
translated by Hiroaki Sato & Burton Watson
Trailing on the wind,
the smoke of Mount Fuji
fades in the sky,
moving like my thoughts
toward some unknown end
translated by Burton Watson & Hiroaki Sato
Can I see another’s woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another’s grief,
And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow’s share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow fill’d?
Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
I couldn’t stop thinking about mountains
step after step on my way to Oxhead
no longer held back by restrains
I was finally wandering without a plan
in the quiet of a flower-scented temple in spring
in the seclusion of a bamboo-veiled pond
where is that oriole singing
it hasn’t stopped the whole time
translated by Red Pine
From five-needle pines in beryl-blue gorges
gathered in the clouds along with the dew
you made your magic pills after summoning the immortals
thinking of benighted friends you sent some down to me
fasting before an altar today I finally ate them
suddenly the stench of mundane life seems wrong
gazing at your cloud-wrapped peak I send this back in thanks
the brass seal at my waist tugs against my heart
translated by Red Pine
Being Present for the Moment
Website storys
Illustration, Concept Art & Comics/Manga
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
An online activist from Bosnia and Herzegovina, based in Sarajevo, standing on the right side of the history - for free Palestine.
A place where I post unscripted, unedited, soulless rants of a insomniac madman
Finding Inspiration
Off the wall, under the freeway, over the rainbow, nothin' but net.
A virtual cabaret of songs, stories and questionable life choices.
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet and author by accident.
At Least Trying Too
A Journey of Spiritual Significance
Life in islamic point of view
Through the view point of camera...
L'essenziale è invisibile e agli occhi e al cuore. Beccarlo è pura questione di culo
In Kate's World
Leonard Durso 