1
Lonely bones can’t sleep nights. Singing
insects keep calling them, calling them.
And the old have no tears. When they sob,
autumn weeps dewdrops. Strength failing
all at once, as if cut loose, and ravages
everywhere, like weaving unraveled,
I touch thread-ends. No new feelings.
Memories crowding thickening sorrow,
how could I bear southbound sails, how
wander rivers and mountains of the past?
translated by David Hinton
You left in early spring, and I long
to have you back by autumn’s end.
How I hate this river flowing east:
all year, never a care for the west.
translated by David Hinton
Autumn’s cold, the window wide open.
A tilted moon fills the room with light.
It’s midnight, and nothing need be said:
just two smiles behind a gauze curtain.
translated by David Hinton
Autumn’s chill infuses crystalline wind.
A moon drifts heaven’s exquisite depths,
radiant. Lovely women ready winter robes,
ten thousand sticks beating frozen stone.
translated by David Hinton
NOTE: using sticks to beat clothing on special stones in autumn was a ritual women had to show longing for lovers taken far off to war.
Autumn night at the open window
makes bed-curtains float and sway.
I gaze up at the bright moon, send
such love a thousand radiant miles.
translated by David Hinton
Wild geese set out for their southlands,
and city-bred swallows wing northward.
If you’ve lost your way, my far-off love,
just follow the autumn wind back home.
translated by David Hinton
I can’t sleep. The night’s long and
the bright moon so radiant, radiant.
Thinking I hear his scattered voice,
I call back, answering empty skies.
translated by David Hinton
Deep in the mountain,
Trampling the red maple leaves,
I hear the stag cry out
In the sorrow of Autumn.
Oku yama ni
Momiji fumi wake
Naku shika no
Koe kiku toki zo
Aki wa kanashiki
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
On autumn nights
the dew is
colder than ever–
in every clump of grasses
the insects weep
translated by Hiroaki Sato & Burton Watson
Withered vines, old trees, crows at dusk;
A small bridge, flowing water, a few houses;
An ancient road, a lean horse in the west wind.
The evening sun sinking in the west–
A heartbroken traveler still at world’s end.
translated by Sherwin S.S. Fu
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
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
Fine Arts Blog
Life, love and destiny.
4TheRecord is dedicated primarily to Ausmusic from all eras and most genres, we will explore the dynamics of the creative process, and reveal the great drama, lyricism, musicality, and emotion behind each classic song.
Fii schimbarea pe care vrei sa o vezi in lume!
Moments de vie, fragments de textes et quelques notes...
Unleashing the beauty of creativity
there's nothing like stories
quiet moments in nature
Art and Literature Beyond Borders
A bird's eye view of St. George, Utah
Keep on Reading
Chronicling an ever-changing city through faded and forgotten artifacts
Leonard Durso 