Wistful, away from my friends and kin,
Through mist and fog I float and float
With the sail that bears me toward Lo-yang.
In Yang-chou trees linger bell-notes of evening,
Marking the day and the place of our parting. . . .
When shall we meet again and where?
. . .Destiny is a boat on the waves,
Borne to and fro, beyond our will.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
It’s a long way home, a long way east.
I am old and my sleeve is wet with tears.
We meet on horseback. I have no means of writing.
Tell them three words: “He is safe.”
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
You, the dweller of the East Mountain,
You, the lover of the beauty of hills and valleys,
In the green spring you sleep in the empty woodland,
And hardly rise in the broad daylight.
The pine wind shakes your garment,
And the stony brook cleanses your soul.
How I envy you, who, unperturbed,
Are pillowed high in a mist of emerald!
translated by Shigeyoshi Obata
Here at the city wall
green mountains to the north
white water winding east
we part
one tumbleweed
ten thousand miles to go
high clouds
wandering thoughts
sunset
old friendship
you wave, moving off
your horse
whinnies
twice
translated by David Young
The guests have all left
their high pavilion
and in the little garden
a whirling storm of petals
they lie in random heaps
across the twisting path
and stretch into the distance
to catch the setting sun
it breaks my heart
to sweep them up
instead I stand and stare
till they mostly blow away
these fragrant-hearted beings
going the way of the spring
they die and earn their tribute–
the tears that spot my clothes.
translated by David Young
The North Wind blows white clouds
a thousand miles and across the Fen
the hopes of my heart shudder and fall
the sounds of autumn are hard to bear
translated by Red Pine
A spring day
here at the world’s end
the world’s end where once again
the sun is going down
the oriole’s cry–
if it had tears
it could water the blossoms
on top of the trees.
translated by David Young
women like goddesses
are dancing inside
all silk and perfume
guests in sable furs
music of pipes and fiddles
camel-pad broth being served
with frosted oranges and pungent tangerines
behind those red gates
meat and wine are left to spoil
outside lie the bones
of people who starved and froze
luxury and misery a few feet apart!
my heart aches to think about it.
translated by David Young
Alone on a river tower my thoughts full of sorrow
the moonlight like the water the water like the sky
where is the person with whom I shared the moon
the view isn’t quite the same as last year
translated by Red Pine
Visiting my father in East District
I finally looked out from South Tower
clouds stretched beyond Taishan to the sea
barren land spread through Hsu and Chingchou
the outline of the stele of Ch’in was still there
the walls of Lu Palace were rubble
I\ve always been drawn to the past
but this time my heart trembled
translated by Red Pine
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 