Loud

[rejectomorph]

Screech owls got their name for a reason. That critter is loud. At least I hope that what I was hearing last night was a screech owl. If not, then there's a good chance that a banshee is loose in the woods.

No more rain has fallen, but the sky remains mostly cloudy and everything is still damp. The owl's screeches have been replaced by the gentler songs of morning birds. I was alert all night, until a couple of minutes ago. I seem to have hit a wall and can barely keep my eyes open. At east I should have no trouble getting to sleep today, even though the sun will be rising shortly (too soon!)



Sunday Verse

Drinking Wine XVI

by T'ao Ch'ien


I was a youth
who never spoke about
nor sought connection with
the world of men.
Afloat on the warm bosom of a sea of scripture,
innocent, or arrogant, and without doubt
at forty, or fifty, sunk, stayed, weaned
no one thing done, or won, unknown.

Finally, firmly, I found virtues in adversity
where innocent or arrogant I had found none before.
I found hunger, cold: my found now is all
that changes. This rude hut
is well connected with the heartless
wind, heedless court sunk in imperious weeds,
my ragged wretched robes: I carry on
through endless night.
Morning, but the cock won't crow
(Thou needst not go)
No man knows me, no
man who offers wine.

Finally, firmly I hide
my feelings,
here.

-translated by J.P. Seaton