(The second in a series of transformations of Wang Wei's River Wang poems.)
From the Observation Deck in a Chinese Garden
Where there are no walls, there are no doors;
nor windows to frame the world's shape.
Above, a canopy of narrow yellow leaves;
beneath my feet, pits litter a splintered floor.
I tap dull, dark keys in muted silence;
sometimes starlings answer, sometimes dust.
No matter how far away I move
the city replies to questions never posed.
Move from the precipice. Beyond graffiti
and oiled river, through smoke and summer haze,
picture a simpler time, when all of this
might have been motes in a madman's mind.
In a world without walls, there are no windows
to hold the moon, my songs.
*
Wai-lim Yip's literal translation of Wang Wei's Bamboo Grove
alone sit dark/secluded bamboo(s) among
strum lute and/again long whistle
deep forest man not know
bright moon come mutual-each other shine*
*to keep company by shining/illumination
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Issue 1 ready to read. Poets for Peace.... ˇPoemas sí, balas no!
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