 In the fog we drift hither
And yon over the dark waves. At last our little boat finds Shelter under a willow bank. At midnight I am awake, Heavy with wine. The smoky Lamp is still burning. The rain Is still sighing in the bamboo Thatch of the cabin of the boat. * Lu Yu (b. 1125-d. 1209) *"Rain on the River" (I), in The New Directions Anthology of Chinese Poetry, trans. Kenneth Rexroth, ed. Eliot Weinberger (New York: New Directions, 2003) 172.
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 A drop of water
From the opal sea, Wishes drift upward as Master Dosun traces Dancing lines of an Ancient text.  Guardian of Ayutthaya,
Golden One Cradled in Earth's Supple palm. Keep your secrets In her embrace, For we who sleep in the Fire of time. |
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