spring mist III

… we stand without talking, we stand with tears … to think that I must travel a thousand miles of mist and rain and water! The evening clouds are gathering again, and the sky widens to the south. It is an old story: parting from [loved ones is] full of pain … ~Li Yung

See the mist around my pavilion: before my eyes there is mist all about. It is the image of my sadness, the reflection of my dull, still eyes. Forever will my dull eyes stare at you, pale mist, my eyes that never will light up again. ~Li Yi-hang*

*cited: The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Jade Flute, by Various

image and poetry submitted in response to Paula’s (Lost in Translation) Words of Wisdom challenge.

lens-artists: cloudscapes

Across concealed blue skies,

drifting signs.

Imaginary birds and dragons –

aimless shifting stories.

Gathering and dispersing

water droplets and star dust.

In flight,

clouds empty of clouds

trails of clouds

layered memories

a time forever gone

stands between us

dewdrops of autumn

The World is a Book

dawn 42423

The sun rose while I slept. I had not yet risen

When I heard an early oriole above the roof of my house.

Suddenly it was like the Royal Park at dawn,

With birds calling from the branches of the ten-thousand-year trees.

I thought of my time as a Court Official

When I was meticulous with my pencil in the Audience Hall.

At the height of Spring, in occasional moments of leisure,

I would look at the grass and growing things,

And at dawn and at dusk I would hear this sound.

Where do I hear it now?

In the lonely solitude of the City of Hsün Yang.

The bird’s song is certainly the same,

The change is in the emotions of the man.

If I could only stop thinking that I am at the ends of the earth,

I wonder, would it be so different from the Palace after all? ~Po Chü-I *

*cited: Trans: F Ayscough & A Lowell, Project Gutenberg eBook of Fir-Flower Tablets: Po Chü-I, “Hearing the Early Oriole” (written in exile).