Thursday, April 09, 2015

Thursday Poem - Swiftly

Swiftly the years, beyond recall,
Solemn the stillness of this fair morning.
I will clothe myself in spring clothing,
And visit the slopes of the Eastern Hill.
By the mountain stream a mist hovers,
Hovers a moment, then scatters.
There comes a wind blowing from the south
That brushes the fields of new corn.
 
T'ao Ch'ien (translation by Arthur Waley)
 
British scholar/translator Reginald H. Blyth called this exquisite poem "the best translation of the best poem in the world". Although we are still several weeks away from seeing new corn in northern fields, T'ao Ch'ien's eight lines are the essence of April and springtime.

1 comment:

Aisling said...

Just beautiful. A meditation.