Tu Fu - Kenneth Rexroth

                              1 

The men and beasts of the zodiac
Have marched over us once more
Green wine bottles and red lobster shells,
Both emptied, litter the table.
'Should auld acquaintance be forgot?' Each
Sits listening to his own thoughts,
And the sound of cars starting outside.
The birds in the eaves are restless,
Because of the noise and light. Soon now
in the winter dawn I will face
My fortieth year. Borne headlong
Towards the long shadows of sunset
By the headstrong, stubborn moments,
Life whirls past like drunken wildfire

                              2

Tumult, weeping, many new ghosts.
Heartbroken, aging, alone, I sing
To myself. Ragged mist settles
In the spreading dusk. Snow skurries
In the coiling wind. The wineglass
Is spilled. The bottle is empty.
The fire has gone out in the stove.
Everywhere men speak in whispers. 
I brood on the uselessness of letters.

                              3

A hawk hovers in air.
Two white gulls float on the stream.
Soaring with the wind, it is easy
To drop and seize
Birds who foolishly drift with the current.
Where the dew sparkles in the grass,
The spider's web waits for its prey.
The processes of nature resemble the business of men.
I stand alone with ten thousand sorrows.

                               4

In the penetrating cold
I sleep under the bamboos,
Under the penetrating
Moonlight in the wilderness.
The thick dew turns to fine mist.
Only the fireflies are left.
Birds cry over the water.
War breeds its consequences.
It is useless to worry,
Wakeful while the long night goes.

                               5

White birds over the grey river.
Scarlet flowers on the green hills.
I watch the spring go by and wonder
If I shall ever return home.

                                6

Isolate and full, the moon floats over the guest house.
In the night the cold river rushes below the gate.
The bright gold spilled on the river is never still.
The brilliance of my quilt is greater than precious silk.
The circle without blemish. The empty mountains with-
    out sound.
The moon hangs in the vacant, wide constellations.
Pine cones drop in the old garden. The senna trees bloom.
The same clear glory extends for ten thousands miles. 

                                7

I am sleepless in the glow and shadow of the lamplight.
The heart at peace breathes the incense of dedication.
Between the temple walls the night is bottomless.
The gold wind bells quiver in the breeze.
The courtyard shuts in the deep darkness of the Spring
    night.
In the blackness the crystalline pool exhales the perfume
    of flowers.
The Northern Crown crosses the sky, cut by the temple
    roof,
Where the iron phoenix soars and twists in the air.
The chanting of prayers floats from the hall.
Fading bell notes eddy by my bed.
Tomorrow in the sunlight I shall walk in the manured
    fields,
And weep for the yellow dust of the dead.



[From:
Rexroth, K. (1949) The Signature of All Things. New York: New Directions, p70 - p74]


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