Wednesday, June 22, 2016

late spring


late spring
to the tune “silk-washing sandy brook”


in the small courtyard, idling at the window
                                    among spring’s lush colors,
the heavy curtains not yet rolled up, the shadows deep,
leaning on the railing, indifferent to the jade qin—
the distant peaks send forth clouds to hasten dim evening;
a trifling breeze blows rain, toys with soft darkness:
the pear blossoms’ urge to wither—I fear
                                    there’s no way to forbid it


Jack Hayes
© 2016
based on Li Qingzhao:
浣溪沙
wăn xī shā



Note: Sheila's research elucidated the "jade qin" line, which reads 倚楼无语理瑶琴 (yǐ lóu wú yǔ lǐ yáo qín). A character by character translation would lead to a literal reading along these lines: "lean on building no words reason jade qin"; however, there are two idioms at play here.  倚楼 means "to lean against a railing", & Sheila discovered that this was a common trope indicating a melancholy state. In addition the negative 无 wú changes the meaning of the following characters to "indifferent to/weary of".




Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:
Pear Blossoms: Qian Xuan, ca. 1280

Public domain

Monday, June 20, 2016

deer park

deer park


empty mountain: no one to be seen
but the sound of voices does echo
sunset’s rays enter the forest depths
luminous again on green moss, highest


Jack Hayes
© 2016
based on Wang Wei:
鹿柴
lù zhài



day and night feel the cold mountain,
share the ease of its lone tenant—
with no knowledge of the deep groves
we have only the stone deer trail


Sheila Graham-Smith
© 2016
based on Pei Di:
鹿柴
lù zhài

 

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:
“Herd of Deer in a Maple Grove”: Anonymous

(丹楓呦鹿圖)
circa 951 A.D.-968 A.D.; ink and colors on silk

Saturday, June 18, 2016

two quatrains


two quatrains


#1

as days grow longer, mountains & rivers grow lovelier;
on spring breezes, the fragrance of grass & blossoms—

as mud thaws, the swallows are on the wing;
on warm sands, Mandarin ducks doze in pairs

#2

the river’s like jade, the birds exceeding white;
in green mountains, flowers aspire to flame—

this springtime I look on also will pass away;
which day, which year will I ever go home


Jack Hayes
© 2016
based on Du Fu:
絕句二首
juéjù èr shŏu





Notes:
#1: It seems clear that the swallows are gathering the thawing mud for their nests. Renowned Du Fu scholar William Hung actually made that explicit in his prose translation of the poem. However, the Chinese doesn't literally state this, so although it was sorely tempting, we didn't make this explicit. Also, Mandarin ducks traditionally symbolize conjugal happiness. 
#2: Sheila's research has suggested that the flowers described in line 2 are Rhododendron strigillosum, known in China as "prickly rhododendron".  Stephen Owen points out that the final line plays on the pun in Chinese between "going home" & "the end of spring".   

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:
芳春雨霽 (Spring Fragrance, Clearing After Rain): Ma Lin, between 1195 & 1224; ink and colors on silk.
Public domain

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

blue octets

"You’re the only one I want
& I’ve never heard your name"
        Townes Van Zandt
 


#1

where have you gone, June? your alien flowers
cream white & blush on lawns I don’t remember—

brown sparrows dart into blackberry hedges
as I walk past & steel blue cars keep rolling—

under a sidewalk ash a young couple kiss:
a blue ink tattoo of the moon character—

lemon sun in a sky spackled gray & blue:
could I take someone aside & say your name


#2

half life of morning dreams when crows are cawing
on power lines above the drooping cedar—

evanescence: one of the possible words; 
the oatmeal’s blueberry honey aroma,

a playground with a swing under a maple,
the swimming pool's unnatural blue deep end—

just a kid once; the pastures’ electric fence
& a dry well & a moon in the day sky


#3

spring afternoon with sky-blue eyes & roses,
coral magenta vermilion pleats & folds—

I have nothing to give you except the flash
of the scrub jay in the rickety trellis—

another song, another guitar’s blue note
bent to a microtone that hasn’t a name

except cold June, mountain bluebird, blue wrist vein,
rags in a kitchen drawer, I could sing all these


#4

monday's cerulean 9:00 pm with half moon
tilted, gray cirrus clouds haunting west to east

past two planets; things are dropping inside me:
a waterfall running into a culvert—

#4 line bus groaning past spent magnolias;
your black & white photo just now beyond reach—

geese swerving past the white moon & glass buildings:
unsure messengers north through the blue vestige


Jack Hayes
© 2016

Thursday, June 9, 2016

spring night delighted by rain


spring night delighted by rain


the admirable rain knows its season,
coming with the spring & bringing forth life—


it follows the wind & steals into the night,
& moistens creation, delicately, without sound—


the country lanes & the clouds alike are black;
on the river the only light a boat’s lamp—


daybreak reveals a damp vermilion scene:
the heavy-laden flowers in Brocade City


Jack Hayes
© 2016
based on Du Fu: 春夜喜雨
chūn yè xĭ yŭ


Note: “Brocade City” (锦城 Jinchéng) was, & still is a common name for Chengdu. Interestingly, it has also long been known as "The City of Hibiscus" (蓉城 Róngchéng). Du Fu lived in Chengdu from 760-765, & there is a memorial park to him there, including a recreation of his thatched hut (see photo). This poem is usually dated 761.


Image links to its source on Wiki Commons
杜甫草堂里的花园 (Du Fu Thatched Hut Park) - Taken on 17 July 2005 by 江上清风1961, who makes it available under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported license.

Monday, June 6, 2016

half a ghost town

(Luning, Nevada 4/2/08)


that vacant highway under a gray-white daybreak:
salt & sand country stripped clear of power lines—

we were one self sleeping & several others
awake: pulling into town at nine a.m.,

sun invisible behind the dry cirrus,
opaque with an after-thought of translucence,

like a body you ought to know—pulling into
town, nine a.m., a roadside power pole laid

out flat, a black upholstered porch chair dusted
white, desiccated, left empty a long time—

peripheral apparition of your face:
my profile glimpsed between your eyes & the half-

liminal galvanized single wides where life
persists like a west wind rattling sheet metal


Jack Hayes
© 2016

Tuesday, May 31, 2016

impromptu poem


impromptu poem

the river moon just a few feet from the man;
the mast lamp illumines the third watch darkness—

on the sandbank herons rest, folded & silent;
in the boat's wake a fish breaks water, splashes


Jack Hayes
© 2016
based on Du Fu:
漫成一首
màn chéng yī shŏu




Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:
Ten Thousand Riplets on the Yangzi: Ma Yuan, 1160-1225. Ink on silk.

Public domain