let the music
play
in my arms
a dream
a sigh
three minutes
forty seconds
of a life
that could have
been
longing
my arms
for you
my arms
ache
this longing in my heart
the day ends
but not so
this longing
in my heart
Longing by Cai Qijiao
My longing for you brims with feelings of spring–
A clear flowing stream
Ripples in the foreground,
The green landscape beyond
Stretches back into the distance,
Under the quiet shadow of a cloud
Your smile is like the passage of fluttering birds.
My longing for you never rests–
As the rising moon
Skims over layer after layer of branches
You walk out from the depths of my heart
And through layer upon layer of memories
You cast radiant light on everything around me.
My longing for you comes back to reality–
On the mountain a high tower
Quiet under a hazy drizzle,
Waiting thus forever for love,
Without so much as a word
Without even hinting my intentions.
translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin
waiting
let the sun rise
let it set
let the winds blow
the house quake
I am here
waiting
still
To the Tune of “Mountain Hawthorn” by Zhu Shuzhen
Every year at the jade mirror stand,
it’s harder to paint myself into a plum flower.
You didn’t return home this year,
and each letter from across the Yangtze fills me with fear.
I drink less since our separation,
my tears exhausted in sorrow.
I see deep Chou clouds when I think of him in distance.
My man is far and the world’s edge is near.
translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping
Missing You by Shu Ting
A colorful hanging chart with no lines.
A pure algebra problem with no solution.
A one-string harp, stirring rosaries
that hang from dripping eaves.
A pair of oars that can never reach
the other side of the ocean.
Waiting silently like a bud.
Gazing at a distance like a setting sun.
Perhaps an ocean is hidden somewhere,
but when it flows out–only two tears.
O in the background of a heart,
in the deep well of a soul.
translated by Chou Ping
from Missing Her After Separation by Yuan Zhen
A mountain spring randomly flows over the steps:
a small house among thousands of peach flowers.
Before getting up, I leaf through a Daoist book
and watch her combing her hair under the crystal curtain.
translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping
morning ritual
in the early hours
before the call to prayer
you enter my dreams
and I wake
your phantom presence
next to me
a morning ritual
the aching
in my heart
Remembering Peach Blossoms by Li Shang-yin
Settled, settled: I dwell on the shore of the world.
Longingly, longingly, I gaze toward the view.
The winter plum is most hateful,
For it always blossoms with last year’s flowers.
translated by James J.Y. Liu
Leonard Durso 