Gently, the breeze at my silken sleeves;
the moon: bright as ice. . .
The rooster, in the treetops, crows.
I’ll saddle my horse: it’s time to go home.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Juan Chi
from Songs of My Heart’s Ideals 2: by Juan Chi
I stand here, and gaze upon
the evergreens of Mount Chingham.
They are comfort, solace, for my heart.
translated by J.P. Seaton
from Song of My Heart’s Ideals by Juan Chi
But pacing there I find my heart turns to friends and loved ones,
and all’s a sudden dark again.
So I send these poems by the eastward-singing birds. . .
Purging my heart of all the words
that could give form to sadness.
translated by J.P. Seaton
from Songs from the Heart by Juan Chi: No. 1
Late at night unable to sleep
I sit up and played my zither
moonlight shone through the curtains
a cool breeze ruffled my robe
in the distant wilds a lone goose cried
above the north woods a circling bird called
this way then that searching for something
while anxious thoughts troubled my heart
translated by Red Pine
Leonard Durso 