old stone bridge:
weeds grow in its cracks,
its river ran dry.
Stone Bridge [Haiku]
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There is no revenge so complete as forgiveness.
Josh billings
Everything in the universe is a jug
Rumi, Masnavi
filled to the brim with wisdom and beauty.
Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
Robert frost
“Travel and tell no one, live a true love story and tell no one,
Kahlil gibran
live happily and tell no one, people ruin beautiful things.”
Not all those who wander are lost.
J.r.r. Tolkien, The lord of the rings
My silks and fine array,
My smiles and languish'd air,
By love are driv'n away;
And mournful lean Despair
Brings me yew to deck my grave:
Such end true lovers have.
His face is fair as heav'n,
When springing buds unfold;
O why to him was't giv'n,
Whose heart is wintry cold?
His breast is love's all worship'd tomb,
Where all love's pilgrims come.
Bring me an axe and spade,
Bring me a winding sheet;
When I my grave have made,
Let winds and tempests beat:
Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay.
True love doth pass away!
In half of the wide courtyard only mosses grow;
Peach blossoms all fallen, only rape flowers blow.
Where is the Taoist planting peach trees in this place?
Only I come again after my new disgrace.
Note: This is the joint translation of Xu Yuanchong and Xu Ming found in the edition of <em>Golden Treasury of Quatrains and Octaves</em> on which they collaborated (i.e. China Publishing Group: Beijing (2008.))
The “new disgrace” referenced was Liu Yuxi’s second exile.
Fast rode the knight
With spurs, hot and reeking,
Ever waving an eager sword,
"To save my lady!"
Fast rode the knight,
And leaped from saddle to war.
Men of steel flickered and gleamed
Like riot of silver lights,
And the gold of the knight's good banner
Still waved on a castle wall.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
A horse,
Blowing, staggering, bloody thing,
Forgotten at foot of castle wall.
A horse
Dead at foot of castle wall.
The Pocket Rumi by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-RumiThe houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
Or green with yellow rings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches tigers
In red weather.