Poetry

  • Withering

    All withers in the autumn air: wine quickly wears off: Bleak and dismal, it's always      like feelings felt at parting. At dusk, I lean on a pillar:      I don't go home; My heart breaks at the patter of wind and rain      on the green lotus.

  • Proof

    So far no one's confirmed the words that say                              we're made of earth.                  Yet there they are in writing.      A title on the blackboard — the teacher                        vanished without warning,                  his lecture gone undelivered.            Tell me, you digger of deep wells,            …

  • Tune: Echoing Heaven’s Everlastingness No.1

    Orioles bubble in the shade of green sophora, secluded courtyard empty this spring day noon;                  painted curtain hangs,                  golden phoenixes dance, solitary, but the embroidered screen, one stick of incense.                  Clouds in the azure sky                  have no fixed home;      in vain my dreaming soul comes and goes;…

  • Birthplace

    What if time came to a stop? Surely the end would be struck dumb. Up on the hill the house where you were born is waiting for you to build it again. How and with what — bricks, wasn't it? The chimney's all you can remember: smoke vanishing in spirals like the string of a…

  • Delphi the Second Day

    Here the restless voice consents to love The simple stone, The flagstones that time serves and delivers, The olive tree whose strength has the taste of dry stone. The footstep in its true peace. The restless voice Happy beneath the rocks of silence, And the infinite, indefinite reply Of the herd-bells, shore or death. Your…

  • Adam

    trans. Russian Richard Lourie Having looked all around with an easy gaze, matting the grass as he walked that first day, he lay down in the shade of a fig tree and fell asleep, his hands behind his head. His sleep was sweet and deep and free beneath the blue peace of Eden's sky. ….

  • The Ravine

    There was a sword Struck in the stone's mass. Its handle was rusted, the ancient blade Had reddened the stone's grey flank. And you knew You had to seize all this absence with both hands And pull the dark flame from its sheath of night. Some words were carved in the stone's blood, They told…