With the
Mourners
Everyone knew her
Everyone knowing the way
The peach ripens
Graceful attitude of worked jade
Willowy ways
The breeze lifting branches
Mythic creature, cavern treasure
The mirror holding her above all others
Surrounded by high officials
Just chatting
Everyone walking now through dull rain
Between lonely horizons
Baffled by hard times she came to
So far from us
Letter to a Friend
What good is city life without companions
Even on back roads we look for friends
Days go by
My dress of best brocade gone for cash
The mirror silver fogs
So delicate, I open its case
Across my face my hair falling tangled
Musky incense coils from the dish
Its carved shape seems to change each time I
look
It must be spring
All the love notes young men leave
Asking me to hurry
In the alcoves setting portraits of other
beauties
But it’s me they wait for
The willow leaning to this new philosophy
The plum’s tight
Tight buds
To Zian, Across Hanjiang River
The river between us
Poems and longing north and south
The sandbar ducks seem careless
In their element, teals in tangerine groves
A distant singing rising with chimney smoke
The ferry has departed
The empty slipway deep in moonlight
Everyday life so faraway
If you were here, the miles I cross in my mind
Would end
A Name for Other
Things
Flower buds breaking
Pink everywhere
By every dwelling, willows
Silver moon foliage
Someone
Preparing themselves for evening
Choosing new clothes
Upstairs, someone else
On her own
Waiting for anyone
Koi glide between lotuses
Between moonrise and sunrise, saying
Disappointment and desire
What does the world know, dreaming as it comes
It goes
No comments:
Post a Comment