Grape leaves flutter
and some catch the light
to glow with translucence.
I'm in an ancient place,
and this is such an ancient
endeavor.
Wine has been the king
of pursuits in these parts
for millennia.
Is that why I can become
lost in the play of light
on quivering leaves?
Or is it just that time of day?
The sun is low -- ready to set --
My mind is slow & ready to drink.
from stony ground,
a dense cluster of yellow
grows defiantly.
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Hand in hand.
Plum petals floated to her skirt.
-- Love unbound --
Now, lost souls mill about:
Thier loved ones long unseen.
Old songs are heard once more,
Recalling Tower and Temple.
On ordinary days,
I'd write a thousand lines.
Now, I brush away dust,
And think of us, together.
The moon reflects in the lake.
Willows droop beside water.
A dragon-head cloud drifts on air.
Note: Translated titles vary. e.g. Xu Yuanchong entitles his translation “Song of Incense.”
ancient landscape:
boulders, remnants of mountains,
are strewn about;
prehistoric tribes lived here,
and it looked the same for them.
fog retreats to
reveal stony spires
like ghostly soldiers.
summer sunlight
sparkles on a blue lake --
always distantly.
To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
Have from the forests shook three summer's pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turned
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Ah, yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,
Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived:
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred:
Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.
