The ladle's cast aside, the cup not green, The stove still looks as if a fiery red. To many places, communications are broken, I sit, but cannot read my books for grief.
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"My poems are no use—they won’t fill anyone’s stomach."
"Dew is heavy on the grass below, the spider's web is ready. Heaven's ways include the human: among a thousand sorrows, I stand alone."
"The river's blue, the bird a perfect white, The mountain green with flowers about to blaze. I've watched the spring pass away again, When will I be able to return?"
"The stars lean perilously close to the earth tonight."
"A falcon hovers at the edge of the sky. Two gulls drift slowly up the river. Vulnerable while they ride the wind, they coast and glide with ease."
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