What a thing to return from war --
a survivor --
To find that so little has survived:
Not the grass, nor garden,
Not the roof, nor lintels...
The homestead, an overgrown ruin:
Like a remnant of a once great
Civilization that was one's
Peace of mind.
lily pad sprawl:
herons march, beak-down,
on the shifting surface.
Ten years honing this fine blade,
And it has not drawn blood.
Now, you'll see of what we're made:
Who, wronged, is owed in blood?
The Original: 劍客: 十年磨一劍, 霜刃未曾試. 今日把示君, 誰有不平事.
drifting toward falls,
a leaf twists & pivots
-- as if frantically --
as if to avoid the fall,
then slips over & glides.
petals curling,
the flower will not yield
beauty at the core.
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
a perched heron
watches ripples of its
last attempt fade.
I see this lion, swords in teeth,
And find myself in disbelief,
Am I to believe this wild cat
Swallowed two men, coats, belts, and hats,
But the swords got stuck?
Picking, picking where water flows
From a distant fountainhead.
Moving up the narrow valley,
One may see a stunning beaut.
Peachtrees laden with ripe fruit
As breezes blow by the water
And willows wind along the stream,
While warblers consult with branch-mates.
The more one walks, the more Truth joins,
And more Truth may reveal the Way.
If this world is without end,
The old must be made new again.
NOTE: The late Tang Dynasty poet, Sikong Tu (a.k.a. Ssŭ-k‘ung T‘u,) wrote an ars poetica entitled Twenty-Four Styles of Poetry. It presents twenty-four poems that are each in a different tone, reflecting varied concepts from Taoist philosophy and aesthetics. Above is a crude translation of the third of the twenty-four poems. This poem’s Chinese title is 纤秾. Giles translated the title as “Slim — Stout” and it’s also been translated as “Delicate – Rich.”
roses in peak bloom,
but butterflies prefer
the weeds below.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 