rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Spring's Last Full Moon

The sky was very nearly perfect all night, sheer clouds veiling the round moon, the soft light dispersed to become one great glow. I looked mostly at the land. My neck did not want to bend for more than a moment at a time. Nevertheless, the land was a delight from which the nagging discomfort barely distracted me. The cool and jasmine scented air gleamed with that dispersed light, every path was made visible, individual flowers and leaves distinct, the texture of the grass revealed. My only complaint is that it didn't last long enough.



Sunday Verse

At the End of Spring


by Po Chu-i


The flower of the pear-tree gathers and turns to fruit;
The swallows' eggs have hatched into young birds.
When the seasons' changes thus confront the mind
What comfort can the Doctrine of Tao give?
It will teach me to watch the days and months fly
Without grieving that youth slips away;
If the fleeting world is but a long dream,
It does not matter whether one is young or old.
But ever since the day that my friend left my side
And has lived an exile in the City of Chiang-ling,
There is one wish I cannot quite destroy:
That from time to time we might chance to meet again.


-translation by Arthur Waley
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