





Best Literary Translations 2024 by Jane HirshfieldThe building blocks of everything --
Too fine to feel or see or smell --
Dance their way into hardened shapes
Via forces, invisible.
And so water flows, flowers bud,
But - also - dew evaporates.
This expansive path stretches on --
It's slow-going through dark lands.
It can't be spoken of smartly.
It can't be pondered fruitfully.
It's Early Spring green in sunlight,
Or like the snow seen by moonlight.
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 translation of the fourteenth of the twenty-four poems. Translated titles vary: Giles calls it “Close Woven” and others have titled it, “Fine.”
I can see the Bible stories
writ in these skies
as I pass through
ancient parts.
Slant shafts of light spill
through the clouds,
angling toward some
blessed soul.
I can see distant clouds --
fringed in curls --
as if painted upon
a cathedral ceiling.
Clouds that display the depth
of an artist's skill and
eye for perspective,
but not true depth.
(They seem too distant for that;
they're too real to be real.)
And I look up again out of the window
and am blinded by light
that has pierced thick clouds,
and I wonder whether anyone is
seeing this light shaft bless me.
The Pass of the Persecuted by Guram Odisharia

How To Be The Greatest Improviser On Earth by Will HinesThis darksome burn, horseback brown,
His rollback highroad roaring down,
In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam
Flutes and low to the lake falls home.
A windpuff-bonnet of fawn-froth
Turns and twindles over the broth
Of a pool so pitchblack, fell frowning,
It rounds and rounds Despair and drowning.
Degged with dew, dappled with dew
Are the groins of the braes that the brook threads through.
Wiry heathpacks, flitches of fern,
And the beadbonny ash that sits over the burn.
What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left,
O let them be left, wildness and wet;
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.


How do you balance work and home life?
Live in the moment.