I see you to Ku-su.
Homes there, sleeping by the stream.
Ancient palace, few abandoned spots.
And by the harbor, many little bridges.
In the night market, lotus, fruit and roots.
On the spring barges, satins and gauze.
Know, far off, the moon still watches.
Think of me there, in the fisherman’s song.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Out of the east you visit me,
With the rain of Pa-ling still on your clothes,
I ask what you have come here for;
You say: “To buy an axe for cutting wood in the mountains.”
. . .Hidden deep in a haze of blossom,
Swallow fledglings chirp at ease
As they did when we parted, a year ago. . . .
How grey our temples have grown since then!
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
While the autumn moon is pouring full
On a thousand night-levels among towns and villages,
There meet by chance, south of the river,
Dreaming doubters of a dream. . .
In the trees a wind has startled the birds,
And insects cower from cold in the grass;
But wayfarers at least have wine
And nothing to fear–till the morning bell.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
body and soul
that voice
brings back memories
of dark bars
Alvin swaying
John Woods’ eyes
closed to some thoughts
he could not escape
and Henry
and secrets
he cannot say
earlier we sat
with Julian pouring rye
into our steins
of draught beer
at the Blarney Stone
cornbeef and cabbage
upper west side
and that voice
haunting our dreams
where oh where
amid the ghosts
of days past
she is there
here
as night falls
and my glass
is filled
and refilled
death will come
to us all
but damn
her voice
keeps it at bay
and they can’t
take that
away
from me
playing pool
in some local bar
whiskey sips
between shots
neither keeping
the score
the playing
what’s important
not who wins
it always was
that way
40 odd years
sworn brothers
from bell bottoms
to gray hair
if being an outlaw
is living
by one’s own rules
then heaven
was never an option
uncharted territory
is where you both
are headed
with Honky Tonk Heroes
full blast
on the tape player
of that ’66 Mustang
you’re driving
my thoughts
finished
before I think
them
our words
tumble over
each other
in the rush
of familiarity
to say
I know you
an understatement
to say
I’ve found you
a blessing
here
alas adrift
a life jacket
in the immense
sea
sushi & sake
at a table
with friends
4 years
gone
too long
to go without
this
We drink deeply beneath dragon bamboo,
our lamp faint, the moon cold again.
On the sandbar, startled by drunken song,
a snowy egret lifts away past midnight.
translated by David Hinton
Autumn returns, and again we are cast thistledown together
on the winds. The elixir of immortality has eluded us—
Ko Hung must be ashamed. Days drunk and singing too loud,
Given to the wind, yet resolute–so brave, and for whom?
translated by David Hinton
Taking time off in the enervating heat
we drifted in a skiff along the city moat
a light wind blew open our robes
a flute echoed through the woods
thin clouds darkened the water
a fine rain cooled the lotus-scented air
rather than pour out our cares
we raised our cups to the flowers
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.
Erm, what am I doing with my life?
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet 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 