Sunday Verse
Six Quatrains
by Tu Fu
1
From the water east of our fence, sun
Ascends. North of home: mud-borne clouds.
A kingfisher cries from bamboo heights,
And on the sand below, magpies dance.
2
Blossoms scatter, bees and butterflies
Stitching the lavish confusion with flight.
Perched in solitude, I plumb idleness-
What would guests come looking for?
3
For a new well- wellrope of braided palm
Leaves, drains cut through bamboo roots. Antic
Little boats are just tangled rigging; here,
Small paths weave our village into itself.
4
Streams swollen after headlong rains, late
Light caresses a tree's waist. Two yellow
Birds keep hidden in their nest. Where
Shattered reeds float, a white fish leaps.
5
Bamboo needles our fence. Cane is toppled
In under eaves. The land turning to sunlit
Silk slowly, reeds and the river gone
White weave together in tracery shadows.
6
Moonlight across stone, the river flows.
At the brook's mirage, clouds touch blossoms.
A perched bird knows the ancient Tao. Sails
Only drift toward night spent in whose home?
Sometimes I'm amused by the utterly expected.
