Before The Cask of Wine

  The spring wind comes from the east and quickly passes, Leaving faint ripples in the wine of the golden bowl. The flowers fall, flake after flake, myriads together. You, pretty girl, wine-flushed, Your rosy face is rosier still. How long may the peach and plum trees flower By the green-painted house? The fleeting light…

Noche de Insomnio

Estaba solo, completamente solo, incluso el sueño nocturno me había abandonado… De pronto me pareció oír no unas palabras sino unos sonidos, unos sonidos siempre en tres suspiros Como viento y harina… “¿Qué puede ser eso? ¡No hay tiempo que perder!”, mascullé, y enderezándome el cabello con un trago de vino me puse en pie…

When it Rains on Sunday

When it rains on Sunday and you are alone, open to the world but no thief comes and neither drunkard nor enemy knocks at the door, when it rains on Sunday and you’re deserted and can’t imagine living without the body or not living since you have it, when it rains on Sunday and you’re…

Patience

Patience and I have traveled hand in hand
So many days that I have grown to trace
The lines of sad, sweet beauty in her face,
And all its veiled depths to understand.

For Meng Hao-Jan

I love Master Meng. Free as a flowing breeze, He is famous Throughout the world. In rosy youth, he cast away Official cap and carriage. Now, a white-haired elder, he reclines Amid pines and cloud. Drunk beneath the moon, He often attains sagehood. Lost among the flowers, He serves no lord. How can I aspire…

On The Life Of Man

Where wee are drest for tyme’s short comedy:
The earth’s the stage, heaven the spectator is…

Dregs

This afternoon it is raining, as never before; and I have no desire to live, my heart.