We present this work in honor of World Tourism Day.
I remember the temple, this route I’ve travelled before,
I recall the bridge as I cross it again.
It seems the hills and rivers have been waiting,
The flowers and willows all are selfless now.
The field is sleek, and vivid, thin mist shines,
On soft sand, the sunlight’s colour shows it’s late.
All the traveler’s sorrow fades away,
What better place to rest than this?
We present this work in honor of China’s Mid-Autumn Festival.
Cicadas sob at dawn, warblers mourn at dusk.
Spellbound, as ten fingers speak.
Stop chanting scriptures and chatting
Golden chimes scattering confusion in a clear autumn.
I die of love for him, perfect in every way,
Lost in the strains of wafting music.
My eyes are fixed upon his delightful body
And I do not wonder at his beauty.
His waist is a sapling, his face a moon,
And loveliness rolls off his rosy cheek
I die of love for you, but keep this secret:
The tie that binds us Is an unbreakable rope.
How much time did your creation take, O angel?
So what! All I want is to sing your praises.
On the hard road of life and death
That is near our land,
You went, afraid,
Without words.
We know not where we go,
Leaves blown, scattered,
Though fallen from the same tree,
By the first winds of autumn.
Ah, I will polish the path
Until I meet you in the Pure Land
We present this work in honor of the Japanese holiday, Culture Day.
When the tide is high
Flooding the rocky shore,
As the seaweed is he?
Seldom glimpsed, but
Much desired!
We present this work in honor of the Buddha’s birthday.
Listen, faithful Tibetans!
I am merging with the fundamental, the ground of all that is—
physical pain and suffering are disappearing…
The son, the inner elements of my body,
is reuniting with the mother, the outer elements.
Her physical remains will disappear into earth and stone.
The compassion of the Guru has never left me;
his manifestations fill all the world and call out to welcome me.
This wild lady has done everything;
Many times have I come and gone, but now, no longer.
I am a Tibetan wife sent back to her family.
I shall now appear as the Queen, the All-good, the Dharmakaya.
This self-sufficient black lady
has shaken things up far and wide;
now the shaking will carry me away into the southwest.
I have finished with intrigues,
with the fervent cascades of schemes and deceptions;
I am winding my way into the expanse of the Dharma.
I have mourned many men of Tibet who have left me behind—
but now I am the one who will go to the land of the Buddhas.
We present this work in honor of the Vernal Equinox.
In the loneliness of my heart
I feel as if I should perish
Like the pale dew-drop
Upon the grass of my garden
In the gathering shades of twilight.
A palm tree stands in the middle of Rusafa,
born in the West, far from the land of palms.
I said to it: How like me you are, far away and in exile,
in long separation from family and friends.
You have sprung from soil in which you are a stranger;
and I, like you, am far from home.
We present this work in honor of the Chung Yeung Festival.
On a northern peak among white clouds
You have found your hermitage of peace;
And now, as I climb this mountain to see you,
High with the wildgeese flies my heart.
The quiet dusk might seem a little sad
If this autumn weather were not so brisk and clear;
I look down at the river bank, with homeward-bound villagers
Resting on the sand till the ferry returns;
There are trees at the horizon like a row of grasses
And against the river’s rim an island like the moon
I hope that you will come and meet me, bringing a basket of wine
And we’ll celebrate together the Mountain Holiday.
We present this work in honor of China’s National Day.
I gaze around in the west wind, sick at heart;
A sad season this of red smartweed and white reeds;
No sign is there of autumn by the bare fence round my plot.
Yet I dream of attenuated blooms in the frost.
My heart follows the wild geese back to the distant south,
Sitting lonely at dusk I hear pounding of washing blocks.
Who will pity me pining away for the yellow flowers?
On the Double Ninth Festival they will reappear.
Poets Corner 