Displaced

[rejectomorph]

The moon vague amid gauzy clouds, no shadows mark the ground. The slightest stir of air brings a chill. I watch stars emerge and vanish as the veils drift. Twice, from the corner of my eye I saw brief flashes which might have been meteors, but when I looked there were no traces. Returning indoors, the warmth of the house made me nod off. It seemed like a few minutes, but when I next looked at the clock, two hours had passed. Not so much as the hint of a dream remained. Suddenly, the past felt more immediate than the present moment. My consciousness remains out there in the night, and I feel as though I have not arrived here yet.



Sunday Verse

Planting Flowers Under the Embankment

by Po Chu-i

(Written when governor of Chung-chou)


I took money and bought flowering trees
And planted them out on the bank to the east of the Keep.
I simply bought whatever had most blooms,
Not caring whether peach, apricot, or plum.
A hundred fruits, all mixed up together;
A thousand branches, flowering in due rotation.
Each has its season coming early or late;
But to all alike the fertile soil is kind.
The red flowers hang like a heavy mist;
The white flowers gleam like a fall of snow.
The wandering bees cannot bear to leave them;
The sweet birds also come there to roost
In front there flows and ever-running stream;
Beneath there is built a little flat terrace.
Sometimes I sweep the flagstones of the terrace;
Sometimes, in the wind, I raise my cup and drink.
The flower-branches screen my head from the sun;
The flower-buds fall down into my lap.
Alone drinking, alone singing my songs
I do not notice that the moon is level with the steps.
The people of Pa do not care for flowers;
All the spring no one has come to look.
But their Governor General, alone with his cup of wine
Sits till evening and will not move from the place!


-translated by Arthur Waley