sea of sadness
constantly lapping
at the shore
sadness
my eyes
my eyes
grow heavy
remembering
the words
the faces
long gone
from view
Home Thoughts by Li Shang-yin
Though there is a tower with railings to lean on,
How can I do without wine to pour?
Dank clouds hang over the mountain range in spring;
The river moon shines clear and bright at night.
The fish are disturbed–to whom can letters be entrusted?
The apes cry sadly–my dreams are easily startled.
My old home adjoined the Imperial Park:
It was the time when the oriole moved to the tall tree.
translated by James J.Y. Liu
Visiting the Meandering Stream Alone Late in Autumn by Li Shang-yin
When the lotus leaves grew, my spring sadness grew.
Now that the lotus leaves have withered, my autumn sadness is full.
I well know that as long as life remains, emotions remain;
Gazing ahead wistfully by the river, I hear the river’s flow.
translated by James J. Y. Liu
untitled poem 4 by Fernando Pessoa
Whether I’m happy or sad?. . .
Frankly I don’t know.
What does it mean to be sad?
What is happiness good for?
I’m neither happy nor sad.
I don’t really know what I am.
I’m just one more soul that exists
And feels what God has ordained.
So then, am I happy or sad?
Thinking never ends well. . .
For me sadness means
Hardly knowing myself. . .
But that’s what happiness is. . .
translated by Richard Zenith
Spring Rain by Sowol Kim
Caught in a sudden shower, spring sobs,
while flowers fall everywhere–
even in my heart.
Watch, as the clouds drift high over the budding branches
until dusk descends with nightfall.
The sweet, sad rain falls endlessly
as do my tears on the carpet of flowers.
translated by Jaihiun Kim & Ronald B. Hatch
untitled tanka on sadness from Saigyo
in a mountain village
at autumn’s end–
that’s when you learn
what sadness means
in the blast of the wintry wind
translated by Hiroaki Sato & Burton Watson
The Third Day of the Third Month: To My Cousins and Thinking of Commissioner Ts’ui by Wei Ying-wu
The season seems to be ending early
this morning felt sadder still
the wind stirs a heartbreaking spring
and the pond chills a flowerless night
the longer I look at the wine
the clearer you become
who is that walking along the winding river
looking for my footprints and thinking of me
translated by Red Pine
anonymous tanks 9 from The Kokinshu
On autumn nights
the dew is
colder than ever–
in every clump of grasses
the insects weep
translated by Hiroaki Sato & Burton Watson
The Station by Melih Cevdet Anday
An unknown evening hour
Of a station with an age-old platform, sadness
By my side, I knew no direction.
I had left you up there, in the sky
Dark were the trees and the road
Dark were your white clothes.
The night, that treasure, foreign stone
Your window was above the trees
No voice or iron can save me now.
Here I am in the hours
The hours are nowhere, no
Not in this direction, not in that.
I had left you up there, in the sky.
translated by Şehnaz Tahir-Gürçağlar
Leonard Durso 