time
is on
no one’s side
it is
strictly neutral
the passage of time
night
night
deep, still
a long way
till dawn
on calendars & time
the cleaning people
keep changing
the date
on my wall
calendar
before
I can do it
myself
not a race
or a reminder
just courtesy
and I
too grateful
for their
always cheerful
service
cannot say
don’t rush
the passage
of time
for I
am not
anxious
to see it
slip away
quite so quickly
one day
at a time
from Alone at Night at My Monastic Residence: To Secretary Ts’ui by Wei Ying-wu
I didn’t realize the year was so late
or living apart was so lonely
translated by Red Pine
poem by Yamanoue Okura from The Man’yoshü
Like the unchanging cliffs,
I would remain just as I am.
But I am living in this world
and cannot hold time back.
translated by Ian Hideo Levy
The Autumn Wind by Wu-ti
Autumn wind rises: white clouds fly.
Grass and trees wither: geese go south.
Orchids all in bloom: chrysanthemums smell sweet.
I think of my lovely lady: I can never forget.
Floating-pagoda boat crosses Fen River.
Across the mid-stream white waves rise;
Flute and drum keep time to sound of the rowers’ song;
Amidst revel and feasting, sad thoughts come;
Youth’s years are few! Age how sure!
translated by Arthur Waley
New Corn by T’ao Ch’ien
Swiftly the years, beyond recall.
Solemn the stillness of this fair morning.
I will clothe myself in spring-clothing
And visit the slopes of the Eastern Hill.
By the mountain-stream a mist hovers,
Hovers a moment, then scatters.
There comes a wind blowing from the south
That brushes the fields of new corn.
translated by Arthur Waley
Slow Chrysanthemums by So Ko-jong
The chrysanthemums are slow to bloom this year,
I have found no autumn joy by the eastern hedge.
Heartless, indeed, is the west wind: it blows
into my greying hair, not yellow chrysanthemums.
translated by Kim Jong-gil
untitled poem by Hwang Chin-i
Mountains are steadfast but the mountain streams
Go by, go by,
And yesterdays are like rushing streams,
They fly, they fly,
And the great heroes, famous for a day,
They die, they die.
translated by Peter H. Lee
In A Boat by an anonymous 19th Century Korean poet
Flowers were opening at the house where I spent the night;
this morning I cross a river afloat with petals.
Spring is busy like people, coming and going:
no sooner have I seen the flowers than I see them fall.
translated by Kim Jong-gil
Leonard Durso 