Summer Day at South Pavilion, Recalling Hsin Ta

Suddenly the sun goes off
the mountains;
slowly the moon rises
over the pond.

To enjoy the cool of evening,
I loosen my hair,
open wide the veranda windows
and relax in the airy calm.

A breeze carries
the fragrance of lotuses;
one can hear dew
dripping in bamboo.

I start to play
the five-string zither,
but sadly, there's no
chih-yin to listen.

In this mood,
I think of my old friend, Hsin;
but the night only brings
troubled dreams.

    --Meng Hao-jan (689-740)

Mike O'Connor | Old Mountain Wind
Contents | Mudlark No. 7