rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Night Haze

I doubt this haze will last once the sun rises. Not quite fog, it has hovered for hours and even now blurs the fading stars. The moon borrows from it a halo, as the haze itself borrows from the town's distant lights a pearly glow. It has also brought a strange phenomenon I've seen but a few times; Looming between the sky and the dark trees is a darkness slightly deeper than the sky and slightly paler than the trees. When I stare at this shade, it takes on the shapes of trees twice the height of the second growth woods now here, as though I were seeing the ghost of the ancient forest which once stood on this ridge. Maybe it intends to return. I wouldn't mind.



Sunday Verse


Planting Bamboos

by Po Chu-i


Unrewarded, my will to serve the state;
At my closed door Autumn grasses grow.
What could I do to ease a rustic heart?
I planted bamboos, more than a hundred shoots.
When I see their beauty, as they grow by the stream-side,
I feel again as though I lived in the hills,
And many a time on public holidays
Round their railing I walk till night comes.
Do not say that their roots are still week,
Do not say that their shade is still small;
Already I feel that both in garden and house
Day by day a fresher air moves.
But most I love, lying near the window-side,
To hear in their branches the sound of the autumn-wind.

-translated by Arthur Waley
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