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
You ask me when I am coming. I do not know.
I dream of your mountains and autumn pools brimming all night with the rain.
Oh, when shall we be trimming wicks again, together in your western window?
When shall I be hearing your voice again, all night in the rain?
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
Mist mantling cold waters, and moonlight shoreline sand,
we anchor overnight near a wine-house entertaining guests.
A nation lost in ruins; knowing nothing of that grief, girls
sing Courtyard Blossoms. Their voices drift across the river.
translated by David Hinton
Distant clouds, trees deep into mist,
autumn bathed in a river’s clarity.
Where is she tonight, so beautiful?
Moonlight floods the mountaintops.
translated by David Hinton
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
Rich and full, all surging swells and white gulls in flight,
it flows springtime deep, its green a crystalline dye for robes.
Going south and coming back north, you grow older, older.
Late light lingers, farewell to a fishing boat bound for home.
translated by David Hinton
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 