A single leaf falls in the yard.
Near my desk, crickets chirp sadly.
I know I cannot hold you here.
I wonder where your journey will take you.
My longing will follow you to where the mountains end,
As I seek you in my dream on a moonlit night.
When the spring river ripples green along the bank,
I beg you not to forget your promise to return.
translated by Sung-Il Lee
Hugging in my heart a dream,
hazy and traceless,
I lean like a child on the gate
and gaze at the sky where clouds pass.
I stand on tiptoe to reach the sky-rim
only to find no path for my dreams.
Clouds scud back and forth across the blue
that stays forever constant.
Like a root stirring with life,
like a faithful heart that never fails,
dreams will bloom in the thorny path of memory
as the green grass sprouts in the stony fields.
translated by Jaihiun Kim & Ronald B. Hatch
Wishing to disperse for once the sorrows of a lifetime,
I mount the Yüeh-yang Tower above the Tung-t’ing lake.
Over ten thousand miles I could have sailed in high spirits,
But alas, there are dragons who know how to upset the boat!
traslated by James J.Y. Liu
A hanging screen, a half-rolled-up curtain;
The pillows are cold, the quilts still fragrant.
Why does my soul, for the sake of remembrance,
Fly in a dream across the Hsiao and the Hsiang?
translated by James J.Y. Liu
I daydream, melancholy at the windowsill—-
memories I will never tell—-
our passion in the late-night hours,
our tearful good-byes at dawn.
Mountains and rivers divide us,
and I’ve given up hoping for rain.
Divided, I dream of you today—-
I even embrace the pain.
translated by Sam Hamill
from Douglas Moore’s Art of Quotation
Reading furnishes the mind only with materials of knowledge; it is thinking that makes what we read ours.
Light rain settles this white dust,
and her perfume penetrates thin walls.
Her jade-white body slips into a jade-white gown.
The embroidery is beautiful, but sad.
She blossoms like a pear against an ivory couch.
A silk blouse and green skirt
hang in the smoky incense of aloe.
Why do I waste time painting early morning clouds?
translated by Sam Hamill
Body sits single,
waiting–
but for what
it knows not.
Old words
echoing what
the physical
can’t–
“Leave love,
leave day,
come
with me.”
from Douglas Moore’s Art of Quotation
“We lose ourselves in what we read, only to return to ourselves, transformed and part of a more expansive world.”
Judith Butler, author, philosopher, “What value do the humanities have?'”. McGill University speech, May 30, 2013
But now–
but now the wonder of life is
that it is at all,
this sticky sentimental
warm enclosure,
feels place in the physical
with others,
lets mind wander
to wondering thought,
then lets go of itself,
finds a home
on earth.
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
Dennis Mantin is a Toronto-based writer, artist, and filmmaker.
Finding Inspiration
Off the wall, under the freeway, over the rainbow, nothin' but net.
Erm, what am I doing with my life?
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet 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 