Fresh Wood (for Luo Xue)

Fresh Wood (for Luo Xue) Wen Tianxiang (1236-1283)  A sigh, sigh sound from woods up high to low;We close the gate and cover up with fur—Spring feelings flow along the mountain gorge;At dawn I rise to touch and look at her.   Chinese 贈羅雪崖樵青文天祥 蕭蕭山下人閉門衣裘單春心動溪谷曉起捫松看 Pronunciation Zèng Luó Xuě Yá …

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Between the Rain and Sun

We live in drought   As summer sings to fallMy wandering clothes   Have filled with filth through all A sunny view  Along the road I cameTo pray for peace   On a night of calming rain The rooftop tiles   Have washed with water’s lashThe rusted drains   Have carried off …

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A Country Road

The moon has shadowed me, like stillborn air Along a country road, adrift in threads, Behind a worn out wheel, the pedals bare, As time leaves nothing here but cast off dead. I share these words with clouds in wind-washed treads, Where rock-strewn shores in …

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Western Clouds

The sun goes up and soars on to the end For me to chase somewhere beyond, alone; Today I’m here to rest and meet a friend, By dawn I’m off to seek a shore unknown. It’s been near fifteen years without a rest And now …

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Gazing at the Snow Peak of Zhongnan

Above the mountain dark and deepThe snow clouds form a floating quill;But though these woods are clear and bright,Inside the town I feel it chill.   Chinese Pronunciation     終南望餘雪 Zhōng Nán Wàng Yú Xuě     終南陰嶺秀, Zhōng nán yīn lǐng xiù , 積雪浮雲端。 …

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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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