the color blobs
cast onto floor & wall
by stained glass light
are brightest just before
the sun drops out of sight.
Low Light [Tanka]
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Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.
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.
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.”