the aroma
of her skin
the scent of heaven
and earth
mixed with the coming rain
to lie
against skin so smooth
and forget the dust
of this old world
to lose oneself
in the shadow
her arms cast
as they engulf
this weary exile
who has finally
come home
coming home
following Tu Mu
thousands of miles
moonlight sunshine
mists clouds
across oceans
down city streets
the path the heart takes
coming home
lady of my thoughts
on being home: for Ali
Ali calls
I see erguvan
our special flower
only here
in Istanbul
suddenly now
I am home
we are home
Lenny
it is so beautiful
and I tell Burhan
your uncle is home
he smiles
as we drive
from apartment
to apartment
until I too see
erguvan
and I too
am home
Han Shan tells why he came to Cold Mountain
Thirty years ago I was born into the world.
A thousand, ten thousand miles I’ve roamed.
By rivers where the green grass lies thick,
Beyond the border where the red sands fly.
I brewed potions in a vain search for life everlasting,
I read books, I sang songs of history,
And today I’ve come home to Cold Mountain
To pillow my head on the stream and wash my ears.
translated by Burton Watson
the long way home
seems to be
the only way
some know
of seeking shelter
one can call
home
those detours
distractions
attractions
on sidestreets
alleyways
causing delays
all adding to
the character of
the one who finally
arrives
On Returning to Sung Mountain by Wang Wei
The clear stream girdles the long copse,
Carriage horses amble with ease, with ease.
Flowing water seems to be purposeful.
Evening birds in pairs return.
Barren city walls overlook the cold ford,
Fading sunlight fills the autumn mountains.
Far and distant–below Sung’s height;
I’ve come home, and close the gate.
translated by Paul Kroll
Later (6) by Robert Creeley
If you saw
dog pass, in car–
looking out, possibly
indifferently, at you–
would you–could you–
shout, “Hey, Spot!
It’s me!” After all
these years,
no dog’s coming home
again. Its skin’s
moldered
through rain, dirt,
to dust, hair alone
survives, matted tangle.
Your own, changed,
your hair, greyed,
your voice not the one
used to call him home.
“Hey Spot!” The world’s
greatest dog’s got
lost in the world,
got lost long ago.
Leonard Durso 