As We Travel There Alone

The friends we had, the friends we leftAlong the siren streetsA signal past, a thousand theftsIn red light, white light beats Oh, where can I rest in this hidden townAs wind comes whistling throughIn light and dark, as it rains down,A dancer flails there too Somewhere she …

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Farewell to Meng Haoran

 My dear old friend who’s parting WestBeneath the Yellow Towers;While falling on the Yangzhou landsAre mists and springtime flowers. Your orphan boat’s a distant shade,That sails where blue skies go;I look upon the water tides—Until the end they flow.  By Li Bai, tr. from the Chinese by …

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Plum Garden

For Boris and Miona They find a garden lush with plum-air scents As spring sun filters through the dew-dust leaves And subtle sighs arise while fruit ferments, For Eden enters Earth when minds conceive. Within the garden deep an oak tree grows, Preserving plum and …

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Crow within the Yellow Leaves

Successive years of falling leaves, as gold- Enameled flowers flitter out, around The garden nook, with simple stories told To fragrant crowds at play on dampened ground. This time we sipped a cup of coffee cold And spoke of speckled, thinning hair once brown; A …

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Farewell to a Dear Friend

Within the mountain midst, a farewell scene:I shut my door, the sun begins to set.In spring next year the grass will turn to green,But if you’ll come back here, I know not yet.   Chinese 送別 山中相送罷,日暮掩柴扉。春草明年綠,王孫歸不歸。  Pronunciation Sòng Bié Shān zhōng xiāng sòng bà,Rì mù yǎn chái fēi。Chūn cǎo nián nián …

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Island of Song

Afar I row a little boat,An island of song and show;Ashore I leave a nighttime noteOf footsteps laid below. For now it drizzles mist ahead,Mixed in with dark night green;I walk a path where willows tread,A painted river scene. I open the door and see a roomOf …

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Idle Spring

Today no toll in work or soulAs spring is green with ease;In Central Park I make my markTo see the cherry trees. A bird lets out its welcome shoutBeneath the building glass;The wind lets bare a woman’s hairIn lovely, flowing mass. I know the moon will come …

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Spreading Their Wings

Look at the bird, he spreads his wings,The image stays like a song I sing.He flies in a tune above, below,So rich and free from the toil I know. For ages I gaze at the sun and moon,The distant clouds, whose path still looms.For hundreds of …

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