February 2023
Author's Note: I don't read Chinese, except for knowing that the character for "mountain" is also sometimes translated as "hill," as "slope," and as "incline." I do read all available translations of the old masters to triangulate what the original was trying to say, and then I try to say that in my version. I'm not a scholar, I'm a poet, and while these are not necessarily close translations, I always hope I have found the poetry the old ones were trying to give us.
After Lyou Chang-Ching's
"Going to Look for Master
Chang of South Stream"
Everywhere
along the path
I see footprints
in the moss.
I see fog
on an island
and grasses
at the gate.
I see the pines
bright after rain.
Walking the mountain
I reach the source
of the stream.
The flowers there
are what Zen means.
Seeing them
you don't need words.
After Bai Juyi's
"Sleeping on a Night
of Autumn Rain"
So cold, late
in autumn.
The old man
content to
settle in
bed, the lamp
already
burning out.
Sound of rain
while he sleeps,
stove still sweet
with embers,
the smell of
fire warming
him. Dawn comes.
And he sleeps.
Outside, frost
has taken
the last of
his flowers.
After Li Po's
"Amusing Myself"
I was drinking my wine
and failed to notice
evening has come.
Blossoms have fallen
all around me.
I rise, wobbly,
and approach the moon
where it settles
on the water. Far off,
there are birds. Here
where I am, I am alone.
©2023 Tom Montag
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL