Climbing far into the cold mountains, the rocky path steepens
and houses grow rare. Up here where white clouds are born,
I stop to sit for a while, savoring maple forests in late light,
frost-glazed leaves lit reds deeper than any spring blossoms.
translated by David Hinton
Frosty skies open empty depths of wind.
Moonlight floods fulling-stones clarities.
As the dream ends, I am dying at night:
I am beside a beautiful woman, thoughts
deepening–a leaf trees shed in the dark,
a lone goose leaving borderlands behind.
Then I’m in travel clothes, setting out,
heart and mind all distances beyond sky.
translated by David Hinton
I see a cloud at day’s end and just can’t look away.
It has no mind at all, no mind and surely no talent:
a sad flake of bright jade radiant with color, drifting
ten thousand miles of clear sky, nowhere it began.
translated by David Hinton
Breach cut in green-moss earth,
it steals a distant flake of sky.
White clouds emerge in mirror;
fallen moon shines below stairs.
translated by David Hinton
My long-ago life rises into lone thoughts
and drifts windblown–too much for me.
Shoreline sounds echo night restlessly.
Cold lamplight thick with snow glistens.
Three years–a dream so bright and real,
thread stretching away into the furthest
distances. Dawn light on Ch’u Mountain:
no need to climb those wide-open heights.
translated by David Hinton
It seems the fiercest love is no love at all, in the end.
Sipping wine together, we feel nothing now but absent
smiles. Candles, at least, still have hearts. They grieve
over goodbye, cry our tears for us until dawn-lit skies.
translated by David Hinton
Late-light shadow across thousand-mountain
snows. In cold spring, a hundred-foot tower.
I climb up alone, and then back down alone.
Who can manage such distances of the heart?
translated by David Hinton
A thousand miles of oriole song, reds setting greens ablaze,
river villages with mountains for walls, wineshop flags, wind.
Of those four hundred eighty Southern Dynasty monasteries,
how many towers and terraces remain in this mist and rain?
translated by David Hinton
Robes of snow, crests of snow, and beaks of azure-jade,
they fish in shadowy streams. Then starting up into
flight, they leave emerald mountains for lit distances.
Pear blossoms, a tree-full, tumble in the evening wind.
translated by David Hinton
Mist mantling cold waters, and moonlight shoreline sand,
we anchor overnight near a wine-house entertaining guests.
A nation lost in ruins; knowing nothing of that grief, girls
sing Courtyard Blossoms. Their voices drift across the river.
translated by David Hinton
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
Dennis Mantin is a Toronto-based writer, artist, and filmmaker.
Finding Inspiration
Off the wall, under the freeway, over the rainbow, nothin' but net.
Erm, what am I doing with my life?
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet 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 