All dark mystery, I embrace it replete,
alone, night thinning into morning.
In this empty library, I face tall trees,
sparse rain soaking through rustling
leaves. Nesting swallows flutter, wet.
Orchid petals blur across stone steps.
It’s quiet. Memories come, and grief
suddenly caught and buffeted in wind.
translated by David Hinton
I
It’s autumn again. Courtyard trees rustle.
Deep in shadow, insects grieve on and on.
Alone, facing the upper library, I doze,
listening to cold rain clatter in the dark,
window-lattice now and then in the wind
trembling, lamp left failing on the wall.
Grief and sorrow, a lifetime remembered
this far away–all abandoned to the night.
II
Frost and dew spread away–thick, cold.
Star River swings back around, radiant.
Come a thousand niles, north wind rises
past midnight, startling geese. Branches
whisper. Icy leaves fall. And such clarity
in isolate depths of quiet, fulling-stones
grieve. I gaze out through empty space,
tangles of the heart all cold scattered ash.
translated by David Hinton
A drop of dew on an autumn lotus leaf,
In a clear night it falls from the dark heavens.
On this jade plate it comes to rest;
Only because it’s unsettled, we know it to be round.
translated by Irving Y. Lo
This bird of the immortals born for the wind
with turquoise lapels and robe of green
regards my feathers as peculiar
as I twitter away thinking I can sing
we flew back and forth across Loyang
amusing ourselves along crystal streams
friendship with the gods wasn’t meant to be
but happiness filled our hearts
now you’re leaving on a distant mission
on a long dark road through the clouds
but we can still drink and enjoy this day
and sleep tonight among different trees
I’ve paid for lodging east of the city
and spread out a feast in the shade of the wall
as I lift this wine and wish you well
the sadness I feel makes it seem heavy
translated by Red Pine
A torrent shoots through carved-out cliffs
the work of Yu the Sage they say
all night it echoed at the inn below
where I lodged alone unable to sleep
the nature of water is said to be stillness
and rocks are essentially silent
so why when these two clash
do they wake the whole mountain with thunder
I send this to my friend of the Way
wherein you will find my feelings
translated by Red Pine
A lone bird lands on a towering tree
having heard from afar of the gardens of Wu
lamenting the history of a thousand years
at sunset I lean against Changmen Gate
translated by Red Pine
Out walking and singing of cooler days
I think of you on this autumn night
pinecones falling on deserted slopes
the recluse I suspect not yet asleep
translated by Red Pine
Treading precipitous rocks I cross the rushing water
and clamber up a towering cliff to enjoy a suspended stream
but seals of office still weigh my body down
if only someone took them back I could cut my worldly ties
translated by Red Pine
With office work slack I can slip away
we like our goodbyes sweet
there’s nothing left where you grew up
you’re going home to another place
the full moon above mountains of Ch’u
the midnight bell in the land of Huai
where will your lone boat anchor
it’s so far my heart turns away
translated by Red Pine
Where is that drunken spring wind
west of Ch’ang-an or east
if we hadn’t both resigned
we wouldn’t be here together
in Hsuanping Quarter buying wine on credit
or looking for flowers in Hsiayuan Garden
coming and going on willow-lined paths
still dodging those calico horses of the past
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
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 