The smoky mist is wide and deep,
The wind’s a child awake from sleep;
A mother bear with baby cubs,
I watch in love through tangled shrubs.
 
Now wandering, I chase the clouds
Up here, away from city crowds,
But still I think of you that day,
Your eyes a lake, the moon at play.

Forty years old, I’ve sinned
With this cup of wine,
To wander in the wind
On a path without a sign.
 
Looking up to the mountain top,
With hints of blossoms laid,
I ponder this life I’ll swap
For some quiet beneath the shade.

In Central Park the cherries begin to bloom
On a sun-drenched day when birds have left their notes
For us, intruders inside their sanctuary moats,
Unseen but heard in the shadows where the branches loom.
 
I walk a narrow path that’s filled with wood chips,
Fine grass and leaves enveloping the way,
Creeping past and among the gates on which they play
In the wind like the smiles on a thousand lips.
 
Deep within the trees there is a shelter
Where all the park unfolds its jagged edges
And there I rest in the mid-day swelter

This morning the sky imparted its will
On spring, on summer, when all around
Is rain and mist, and darkness still,
Distilled for a moment in the river’s sound.
 
These years I’ve buried my head in books
Have come and gone with the green dawn air;
Last night I walked by the brimming brooks
And left a song as I passed on there.  

At the southern edge, around a turn,
The earth is filled by a sea of white;
The day has passed, but I haven’t returned
From this gardenia trance, both scent and sight.
 
 
Original Chinese poem by Zhang Hu
 

As the sun dies down I lie in the lake pavilion,
Heart disturbed and drawn by various affairs;
Sleep ruined, I wake and drink, intoxicated,
Sitting and waiting in the cool night air.
 
Rain in the pines has sent my rattan hat afloat,
The river wind has pierced my hempen clothes:
Walking by willows, never tired of this path,
The sand is soft like cotton in falling snow.
 
 
Original Chinese poem by Bai Juyi

If you want to milk the Earth as a cow,
Then nourish the soil with seed and plow;
For when it’s set with deep grown roots,
Like a plentiful tree, it will yield many fruits.
 
 
 
Inspired by a Sanskrit poem by Bhartri-Hari, as translated in the Clay Sanskrit Library edition:
 
Rajan, dudhuksasi yadi Ksiti dhenum enam,
Ten’ adya vatsam iva lokam amum pusana;
Tasmims ca samyag anisam paripusyamane
Nana phalam phalati kalpa lat eva Bhumih.
 
King, if you want to milk this Earth as a cow,

eternal track to heaven
beneath the shadows—
eyes turned up to the sky
like a prison of light
 
showers fallen to the sea
as if dreaming of dust
and weeping until it rolls
to the shores of regret