Last year when I accompanied you
As far as the Yang Chou Gate,
The snow was flying, like white willow cotton.
This year, Spring has come again,
And the willow cotton is like snow.
But you have not come back.
Alone before the open window,
I raise my wine cup to the shining moon.
The wind, moist with evening dew,
Blows the gauze curtains.
Maybe Chang-O the moon goddess,
Will pity this single swallow
And join us together with a cord of light
That reaches beneath the painted eaves of your home.

translated by Kenneth Rexroth

How shall I begin my song
In the blue night that is settling?

In the great night my heart will go out,
Toward me the darkness comes rattling.
In the great night my heart will go out.

Brown owls come here in the blue evening,
They are hooting about,
They are shaking their wings and hooting.

Black Butte is far.
Below it I had my dawn.
I could see the daylight
coming back for me.

The morning star is up.
I cross the mountains
into the light of the sea.

translated by Frances Densmore

This little boat of mine, truly a lone leaf,
and beneath it, the sound of dark swells:

I keep paddling in depths of night, drunk,
pleasures of home, bed and desk,forgotten.

At dawn, when I ask about the road ahead,
I’m already past a thousand ridges rising

beyond ridges. O where am I going here,
this Way forever leaving ever returning?

Never arriving, what can we understand,
and always leaving, what’s left to explain?

translated by David Hinton

when all else fails
there’s always life
coming along to surprise you
it could be some gesture
a spoken word, or two
perhaps the touch of a friend
or someone not so friendly
a flood in the neighborhood
power shortages
a voice from the heavens
or someplace farther south
or maybe someone seen
in a different light
you know, something you didn’t expect
good or bad or indifferent
but you’re stopped short
breath held
there on the precipice
whatever balance you thought you achieved
is now called into question
go or stay
throw all caution to the proverbial winds
this business called life
suddenly changes
and whatever rules applied before
no longer matter
it is a new day
or maybe evening
and all you have are what’s left of your wits
so saddle up, partner
whatever it is
it’s begun

Dawn’s faint breath
breathes with your mouth
at the ends of empty streets.
Gray light your eyes,
sweet drops of dawn
on dark hills.
Your steps and breath
like the wind of dawn
smother houses.
The city shudders.
Stones exhale–
you are life, an awakening.

Star lost
in the light of dawn,
trill of the breeze,
warmth, breath–
the night is done.

You are light and morning.

While I watch the moon go down, a crow caws through the frost;
Under the shadows of maple-trees a fisherman moves with his torch;
And I hear, from beyond Su-chou, from the temple on Cold Mountain,
Ringing for me, here in my boat, the midnight bell.

translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu

Journeying is hard,
Journeying is hard.
There are many turnings–
Which am I to follow?. . .
I will mount a long wind some day and break the heavy waves
And set my cloudy sail straight and bridge the deep, deep sea.

translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu

as the baseball sage
once said
“when you come to
a fork in the road,
take it ”
and I’m taking it
and going
wherever it leads
me

there are words
left unspoken
actions
left undone
there is less here
than what at first
met the eye
paper thin relations
like so many
facebook friends