So, it's National Poetry Day. A while ago, I posted Tu Fu to Li Po by Carolyn Kizer, and as Tu Fu and Li Po were both real people and poets, I thought I'd post some of their work today.
It's been so long since I headed for East Mountain—
how many times have the roses bloomed?
White clouds have scattered themselves away—
and this bright moon – whose house is it setting on?
—Li Po
They see you're staying in a mountain temple,
in Hang-chou—or is it Yueh-chou?
In the wind and grime of war, how long since we parted!
At Chiang-han, bright autumns waste away.
While my shadow rests by monkey-loud trees,
my soul whirls off to where shell-born towers rise.
Next year on floods of spring I'll go downriver,
to the white clouds at the end of the east I'll look for you!
—Tu Fu
Moonlight in front of my bed—
I took it for frost on the ground!
I lift my eyes to watch the mountain moon,
lower them and dream of home.
—Li Po
Li Po was the wandering sort, I suppose. He always seems to be far from home in his poems.
In other news, I think my phone case is infested with tiny bugs. Not the listening sort, although I do sort of...tend to assume that Mrs H can hear every word I say at all times. Actual literal bugs. Very small. Sort of gnat like. I think they're eating it. It's a plastic case, but it's covered in fabric, and that's the only thing I can think of that might be attracting them. I like the fabric though; makes it easy to keep a grip on the phone even in less than ideal conditions, like 90% of my life and 100% of my working life.
So if I get rid of this one, I'll probably end up with another fabric one. And more bugs in a year or two? Surely this can't be a common problem though or the internet would be full of weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth over it.
Anyhow, I'm going to peel back the fabric a bit. If a flood of horrifying bugs pour out, I'll try to take pictures.
It's been so long since I headed for East Mountain—
how many times have the roses bloomed?
White clouds have scattered themselves away—
and this bright moon – whose house is it setting on?
—Li Po
They see you're staying in a mountain temple,
in Hang-chou—or is it Yueh-chou?
In the wind and grime of war, how long since we parted!
At Chiang-han, bright autumns waste away.
While my shadow rests by monkey-loud trees,
my soul whirls off to where shell-born towers rise.
Next year on floods of spring I'll go downriver,
to the white clouds at the end of the east I'll look for you!
—Tu Fu
Moonlight in front of my bed—
I took it for frost on the ground!
I lift my eyes to watch the mountain moon,
lower them and dream of home.
—Li Po
Li Po was the wandering sort, I suppose. He always seems to be far from home in his poems.
In other news, I think my phone case is infested with tiny bugs. Not the listening sort, although I do sort of...tend to assume that Mrs H can hear every word I say at all times. Actual literal bugs. Very small. Sort of gnat like. I think they're eating it. It's a plastic case, but it's covered in fabric, and that's the only thing I can think of that might be attracting them. I like the fabric though; makes it easy to keep a grip on the phone even in less than ideal conditions, like 90% of my life and 100% of my working life.
So if I get rid of this one, I'll probably end up with another fabric one. And more bugs in a year or two? Surely this can't be a common problem though or the internet would be full of weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth over it.
Anyhow, I'm going to peel back the fabric a bit. If a flood of horrifying bugs pour out, I'll try to take pictures.
