the dogs roam down
these dark wet streets
or lie in doorways
to escape the rain
their sorrowful eyes turned upward
as I pass by
in the dark early hours
long before the sun
with eyes gazing downward
feeling their solitude
here in my heart
solitude
Zaren on Jingting Mountain by Li Bai (Li Po)
The birds have vanished down the sky
and now the last cloud drains away.
We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.
translated by Sam Hamill
Reverence-Pavilion Mountain, Sitting Alone by Li Po (Li Bai)
Birds have vanished into deep skies.
A last cloud drifts away, all idleness.
Inexhaustible, this mountain and I
gaze at each other, it alone remaining.
translated by David Hinton
Moon, Flowers, Man by Su Tung P’o
I raise my cup and invite
The moon to come down from the
Sky. I hope she will accept
Me. I raise my cup and ask
The branches, heavy with flowers,
To drink with me. I wish them
Long life and promise never
To pick them. In company
With the moon and the flowers,
I get drunk, and none of us
Ever worries about good
Or bad. How many people
Can comprehend our joy? I
Have wine and moon and flowers.
Who else do I want for drinking companions?
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
The Ching-ting Mountain by Li Po (Li Bai)
Flocks of birds have flown high and away;
A solitary drift of cloud, too, has gone, wandering on.
And I sit alone with the Ching-ting Peak, towering beyond.
We never grow tired of each other, the mountain and I.
translated by Shigeyoshi Obata
In A Retreat Among Bamboos by Wang Wei
Leaning alone in the close bamboos,
I am playing my lute and humming a song
Too softly for anyone to hear–
Except my comrade, the bright moon.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
where I am: Michael’s lament
still very much alone
haunted by his memories
what it could have been
what it was, images of
what probably lies ahead
adrift: for M
floating, floating
there is no end to this
the waning candle
the cat under the table
the whiskey in the glass
the book unfinished by the bed
another night in exile
waiting for the dawn
Apprentice Wanted by Refik Durbaş
My hands have a gift for art, Master
My language for cursing, my heart for pain
Is death all I get
All I get, Master?
Which way is love, Master
Which way is grief
Is solitude all I get
All I get, Master?
Which way is away, Master
Which way is home
Is longing all I get
All I get, Master?
translated by Şehnaz Tahir-Gürçağlar
Leonard Durso 