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Tag: Po Chu-i

Autumn’s Cold

Poet: Po Chu-i

here’s my snowy crown
          time’s tinted decrepitude
there’s the frost in the courtyard
          autumn’s glittery breath
now I’m sick and just watching my wife
          pick cure-alls
then I’m frozen waiting for the maid
          to comb my hair
without the body
          what use fame?


Poet: Po Chu-i

my lute set aside
          on the little table
lazily I meditate
          on cherishing feelings
the reason I don’t bother
          to strum and pluck?

Staying at Bamboo Lodge

Poet: Po Chu-i

an evening sitting under
          the eaves of the pines
at night sleeping
          in Bamboo Lodge
the sky so clear you’d say
          it was drugs
meditation so deep,