Stories of passions make sweet dust,
Calm water, grasses unconcerned.
At sunset, when birds cry in the wind,
Petals are falling like a girl’s robe long ago.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
Stories of passions make sweet dust,
Calm water, grasses unconcerned.
At sunset, when birds cry in the wind,
Petals are falling like a girl’s robe long ago.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
Her candle-light is silvery on her chill bright screen.
Her little silk fan is for fireflies. . .
She lies watching her staircase cold in the moon,
And two stars parted by the River of Heaven.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
With twilight shadows in my heart
I have driven up among the Lo-yu Tombs
To see the sun, for all his glory,
Buried by the coming night.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
If you draw a bow, draw the strongest,
If you use an arrow, use the longest:
To shoot a man, first shoot his horse,
To capture rebels, first capture their chief.
In killing men, also, there are limits,
And each state has its own borders.
So long as invasion can be curbed,
What’s the use of much killing?
translated by Ronald C. Miao
Sharpen the sword in the Sobbing Water,
The water reddens, the blade wounds my hand.
How much I want to hush the sound of anguish;
Too long entangled are the strands of my heart!
When a man of courage promises life to his country,
Then what is there to regret and lament?
Deeds of fame live on in the Unicorn Pavilion,
Bones of soldiers will quickly decay.
translated by Irving Y. Lo
Sad, sad they leave their old village,
Far, far they go to the Chiao River.
Officials have an appointed time of arrival,
To flee from orders is to run afoul of capture.
The ruler is already rich in lands,
Expanding the frontier brings no gain!
Abandoned forever is the love of father, mother,
Sobbing, they march away with spears on their backs.
translated by Ronald Miao
Sleeping in spring oblivious of dawn
everywhere I hear birds
after the wind and rain last night
I wonder how many petals fell
translated by Red Pine
For an unemployed gentleman bound for Wuling
a first-rsate sword is worth a ton of gold
I remove this in parting and give it to you
a simple piece of my heart
translated by Red Pine
I left the Yiching in the woods
now I drift with the gulls by the stream
among the singers of the ways of Ch’u
to whom do you most often turn
translated by Red Pine
posted ahead of time for my good friend Jeff Schwaner’s reading pleasure
The green peach of heaven thrives in the dew
the red apricot of the sun flourishes by the clouds
the lotus that rises from a river in fall
doesn’t blame the East Wind for not blooming sooner
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
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