Her soul has returned to the deep void, her spirit returned to mist: She stayed among mortal men for only eighteen years. Yesterday, I gave away her skirts and sashes to monks, My heart broke: they still were tied to the strings of her lute.
If I flash, you'll appear. Backs turned from the present, how can they hope to greet you? You're just like me, predicted for the very place we'll miss each other. Like lightning and thunder— though we come as one, we're revealed as two.
in times of rebellion, the seasons perversely scurry by; on cloudy days, the sun is quick to set. speechless, I scratch my white head and lean, grief-stricken, on the eastern gate.
trans. Portuguese Lisa Sapinkopf 1. Luminous the abolished days When noon bent the columns' shadows And the blue of the sky was drinking up the earth Grown calm in the murmur Of the foliage and the gods. 2. L'Age D'Airain (Rodin) Slowly, slowly, before the light, Laden with shadows and weight, Pulling his body up…
Fragrant grass on the spring bank in Pa-ling, mist thick in the willows, music fills the towers. The tune of a parting song: my heart is shattered to pieces. Today I bid you farewell a myriad times. Red flecked jade plates, gold flecked cups. I must urge you, …
trans. Swedish Robert Bly We have many shadows. I was walking home one September night when Y. rose from his grave after forty years and joined me on my walk. He seemed blown clean at first except for his name, but his thoughts swam faster than time could run, and they caught up. I fitted…
A white horse, a jade crop, and gilded reins: so easy for a young man to say farewell. The road into the distance is a million miles long. If you're saddened by clouds and water in a strange land, fill your cup with wine, I beg you with tears. …
trans. Danish Alexander Taylor and the author The wine that ripened up along the mountain slopes late that summer we met each other is already golden and full of the aftertaste of an abundance, evaporated like years in the sun and the night breeze looks into me with its poplar leaves: I am tired…
Return deep in the night, drunk out of my mind, I'm helped stagger through the tasselled door-way, still unsobered; pass out cold: wine stench blends with the scent of musk and orchid. I wake up with a start: HA! HA! HA! I've always said, ”How long can a man live?”
Summer 2016 - Digital