One range of mountains, Two ranges of mountains, The mountains are far, the sky high, the mists and waters cold. My lingering thoughts have reddened the maple leaves. The chrysanthemums bloom, The chrysanthemums wither. The wild geese from the border fly high, but my love has not come home. The wind and the moon play… Continue reading Li Yu (c. 937 – 15 August 978)
The moon, emerging, Floats where clouds are not; Wind rises, Strikes the purity of night, Stars compete In trembling flickers, The Milky Way is empty, Clear, and bright. Old trees’ sparse shadows Intersperse. Scared birds cut off their Noises lingering. This autumn I am rapt In what’s already awry, While crickets campaign Again at night.… Continue reading Liu Ch’ang
Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn, a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter. If your mind isn’t clouded by unnecessary things, this is the best season of your life. —Wu Men, from The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry. Translated by Stephen Mitchell (Harper and Row, 1989)
Maybe don’t for another minute be afraid of anything. Because swimming is really useful against drowning which you didn’t know until you tried it. And then your life was just massive regret. And then you thought about three purple blossoms in the hair of a beautiful girl. — Wendy Xu, “Please Stand A While Longer… Continue reading Wendy Xu
I know falling to my knees still means something. The basin of cool water still answers the moon. Here you are. Here you have always been. — Wendy Xu, from “Auditorium Poem,” You Are Not Dead. (Cleveland State University Press Poetry Center 2013)
I think of how the mystics read by the light of their own bodies. What a world of darkness that must have been to read by the flaming hearts that turn into heaps of ash on the altar, how everything in the end is made equal by the wind. — Timothy Liu, from “Vox Angelica,”… Continue reading Timothy Liu
And Then It Was Less Bleak Because We Said So Today there has been so much talk of things exploding into other things, so much that we all become curious, that we all run outside into the hot streets and hug. Romance is a grotto of eager stones anticipating light, or a girl whose teeth… Continue reading Wendy Xu
