I look at my past
(after Tu Fu)
I stare at mysteries in the air.
Clouds drift in pairs,
but their life is as brief
as the dead leaves
which blow down the street.
Stars dimly shine,
But they only light
the tops of the pines,
standing like mute stones.
The taste of wine
turns sour in my mouth.
There are things which
can’t ever be understood.
My heart feels dead.
I have many things to regret.
And as I watch
the darkness spread,
they’re not over yet.
Poem 2
(after Li Po)
What good are poems?
They give no comfort
when I’m alone.
They can’t drink with me.
They can’t laugh with me.
They’ll never take away
my fear of death. They only
add to my unrest.
Still, when I’m drunk,
I get ideas, and I must
write them down.
So what’s the use?
My wife is dead.
I sit here alone.
I invite you to join me.
I have plenty of room.
The gods are not merciful
(after Mei Yao Chen)
How may I forget my dead wife?
Life is a flower which blooms,
and dies in its sleep.
I watch the moving moon,
gently dominate the sky,
but where does God reside?
Traffic and people move
along the road. They know
nothing of me, I know nothing
of them. The stars die slowly,
more slowly than the deeds of men.
Drunk, I sink into sleep.
Drunk, I waken to the day.
I have no courage.
When she was young, and I
was young, we slept
in each other’s arms. Now,
I’m older and you are
far away. The light dies.
This poem is all wrong,
but there’s nothing left to say.