lost in words
on the page
coffee grows cold
in my cup
light grows
then fades
away
reading
my foolishness
I stopped reading yesterday
stopped cold
just like that
the book in hand
was by Elio Vittorini
but it wasn’t that
or Orhan Veli
or Su Tung-p’o
or Mark Strand
or Anna Ahkmatova
no, it wasn’t them
or anyone else
it was this sadness
hovering over me
and the books
didn’t help
so I stopped
cold turkey
had 2 shots
of whiskey
sat on the balcony
looked up at the sky
watched the gulls
who came calling
then got up
went out for some fresh pasta
a bottle of wine
and mostly drunk
came home
picked up a book
again
and ended my foolishness
closed my eyes
fell asleep
with books
beside me
reading themselves
my dear friends
Reading Books by Liu Tsung-yuan
Living in obscurity I’ve given up current affairs
I bow my head in silence and reflect on the sage kings
the highs and lows of the ancient past
the ups and downs of countless paths
I laugh to myself when I’m pleased
when I’m sad I simply sigh
I take my books from their cases
I go through from front to back
despite the affliction of tropical diseases
I feel different than in the past
while reading I suddenly understand
when I’m done my mind is a blank
who can I talk with at night
if not these texts on bamboo and silk
I lie down when I get tired
after a good sleep I feel refreshed
I yawn and stretch my limbs
I read out loud to my heart’s content
I enjoy doing what suits me
not to please learned men
I shut up when I’ve said what I want
free of restraints I relax
the clever consider me stupid
the wise think I’m a fool
but reading has managed to make me happy
what good is working till you drop
cherish this body of yours
don’t use it to chase after fame
translated by Red Pine
in books
it was always
about books
reading writing
losing oneself
to find oneself
in books
what a life
peanut butter
from the jar
crunchy of course
for dinner
plus bits and pieces
of steak
graciously given to me
by a neighbor
for Bayramı
and a glass
of ice cold water
man
what a life
I lead
then back to Katzenzakis
bound and determined
to finish this
by dawn’s light
on reading
oft times
there’s just me and a book
who’s an old
or maybe a new
friend
a glass of wine
the ceiling fan turning
the cat sleeping on the back
of my chair
and that’s all I need
that’s enough
Passing By Waterwheel Bay by Yang Wan-li
Reading in my palanquin, I fall asleep and dream–
dream of a fishing boat, lapped by waves.
When I awake, the wind is riffling the pages of my book,
and I can’t even find the right chapter.
trans. Jonathan Chaves
Leonard Durso 