After three years away from you
I’m back at last for one day, and more.
We drink green Luling wine this evening
and I see yellow cloth-wrapped books, like when I left.
My sick bones still exist,
so nothing is impossible in this world!
Why bother to plead with the crows-and-horses dice,
just throw and let them roll!
translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping
The old fisherman spends his night beneath the western cliffs.
At dawn, he boils Hsiang’s waters, burns bamboo of Ch’u.
When the mist’s burned off, and the sun’s come out, he’s gone.
The slap of the oars: the mountain waters green.
Turn and look, at heaven’s edge, he’s moving with the flow.
Above the cliffs, the aimless clouds go too.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Ten long years I’ve honed this sword:
frost white blade as yet untried.
Today, like any other gentleman,
it’s looking for injustice.
translated by J.P. Seaton
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
Deep in the gorgeous gloom the lotus grows,
to blossom fresh upon the morning air.
Its petals cover even the clarity of autumn’s flow,
its leaves spreading, blue smoke there.
But it’s in vain, this beauty that would overwhelm the world.
Who sees it? Who will say he saw?
And in its time the frost will come, chilling,
its deep red will wither, and its fragrance fade.
Poor choice it’s made of where to put its roots.
It would be seen to more advantage in a garden pond.
translated by J.P. Seaton
The family’s living up Brocade Creek,
while I’ve struggled off to this distant sea.
Of ten letters sent, maybe one gets through,
and when it does, it says,
another year’s gone by.
J.P. Seaton
Moon of this night,in Fu-chou,
alone in your chamber you gaze.
Here, far away, I think of the children,
too young to remember Longpeace. . .
Fragrant mist, moist cloud of your hair.
In that clear light, your arms of jade cool.
When, again to lean together, by your curtain there,
alight alike, until our tears have dried.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Great love could seem indifference.
The only hint before the cup: we cannot smile.
Only the candle’s not heartless:
wept tears for us until the dawn.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Everyday the light of spring competes with the light of the sun.
In the hilly town, by the slanting road, the apricot flowers are sweet.
When will my train of thought be free from all cares
And follow the floating gossamer a hundred feet long?
translated by James J.Y. Liu
A spring day on the shore of the world–
On the shore of the world the sun is slanting again.
If the oriole’s cry had tears,
They should wet the highest flower for me!
translated by James J.Y. Liu
Being Present for the Moment
Website storys
Illustration, Concept Art & Comics/Manga
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
An online activist from Bosnia and Herzegovina, based in Sarajevo, standing on the right side of the history - for free Palestine.
A place where I post unscripted, unedited, soulless rants of a insomniac madman
Finding Inspiration
Off the wall, under the freeway, over the rainbow, nothin' but net.
A virtual cabaret of songs, stories and questionable life choices.
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet and author by accident.
At Least Trying Too
A Journey of Spiritual Significance
Life in islamic point of view
Through the view point of camera...
L'essenziale è invisibile e agli occhi e al cuore. Beccarlo è pura questione di culo
In Kate's World
Leonard Durso 