Flutes mourn on the city wall. It is dusk:
the last birds cross our village graveyard,
and after decades of battle, their war-tax
taken, people return in deepening night.
Trees darken against cliffs. Leaves fall.
The river of stars faintly skirting beyond
frontier passes, I gaze at a tilting Dipper,
the moon thin, magpies done with flight.
translated by David Hinton
Up the river by the White King City,
The water swells and the wind is high.
It is May. Through the Chu-tang gorge
Who dares to sail down to me now–
Down to Ching-chow, where the barley is ripe
And the silk worms have made their cocoons–
Where I sit and spin, with my thoughts of you
Endless as the silk strands?
The cuckoo calls high up in the air. Ah, me!. . .
translated by Shigeyoshi Obata
The road to Shuh is more difficult to climb than to climb the steep blue heaven.
I shrug my shoulders and heave a long sigh–gazing into the west.
translated by Shigeyoshi Obata
The wind blows the willow bloom and fills the whole tavern with fragrance
While the pretty girls of Wu bid us taste the new wine.
My good comrades of Chin-ling, hither you have come to see me off.
I, going, still tarry; and we drain our cups evermore.
Pray ask the river, which is the longer of the two–
Its east-flowing stream, or the thoughts of ours at parting!
translated by Shigeyoshi Obata
Here friends come, sorrowing, to say farewell,
Oh Lao-lao Ting, tavern where every heart must ache.
Here even the wind of spring knows the pain of parting,
And will not let the willow branches grow green.
translated by Shigeyoshi Obata
From Yellow-Crane Tower, my old friend leaves the west.
Downstream to Yang-chou, late spring a haze of blossoms,
distant glints of lone sail vanish into emerald-green air:
nothing left but a river flowing on the borders of heaven.
translated by David Hinton
Here, after wandering among these renowned
mountains, the heart grows rich with idleness.
Why talk of cleansing elixirs of immortality?
Here, the world’s dust rinsed from my face,
I’ll stay close to what I’ve always loved,
content to leave that peopled world forever.
translated by David Hinton
This bird of the immortals born for the wind
with turquoise lapels and robe of green
regards my feathers as peculiar
as I twitter away thinking I can sing
we flew back and forth across Loyang
amusing ourselves along crystal streams
friendship with the gods wasn’t meant to be
but happiness filled our hearts
now you’re leaving on a distant mission
on a long dark road through the clouds
but we can still drink and enjoy this day
and sleep tonight among different trees
I’ve paid for lodging east of the city
and spread out a feast in the shade of the wall
as I lift this wine and wish you well
the sadness I feel makes it seem heavy
translated by Red Pine
A torrent shoots through carved-out cliffs
the work of Yu the Sage they say
all night it echoed at the inn below
where I lodged alone unable to sleep
the nature of water is said to be stillness
and rocks are essentially silent
so why when these two clash
do they wake the whole mountain with thunder
I send this to my friend of the Way
wherein you will find my feelings
translated by Red Pine
A lone bird lands on a towering tree
having heard from afar of the gardens of Wu
lamenting the history of a thousand years
at sunset I lean against Changmen Gate
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
Dennis Mantin is a Toronto-based writer, artist, and filmmaker.
Finding Inspiration
Off the wall, under the freeway, over the rainbow, nothin' but net.
A virtual speakeasy 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 