Thursday, April 03, 2014

Thursday Poem - Swiftly the years...

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)

1 comment:

Guy said...

Hi Cate

A lovely poem and a remarkably atmospheric photo.

Thanks Guy