Han Shan
When water is so clear it sparkles
you can see the bottom without effort
when your mind doesn’t have a goal
no circumstance can distract you
once your mind doesn’t chase illusions
even kalpa holds no change
if you can be so aware
from such awareness nothing hides
Chanson 209
Quand eau chuchote verre
Elle-veut carpe diem
il-peut voir carpe doré
Quand votre qi chuchote verre
Villageois hurleront mirage
mais cadres ne inquiétez-vous pas
kalpa changent bébés
kalpa changent âgées
Si peut-il chuchote sans parler
Peuvent-ils entendre tout
Peut-il chuchote eau
SONG 209
When water whispers glass
She sees, seize the day
You can see the golden carp
When your chi whispers glass
Villagers will scream mirage
but surroundings don’t disquiet
kalpa changes babies
kalpa changes elders
If you whisper without speaking
You can hear all
You can whisper water
THINKING OF MY HOME IN CH’AN-AN WHILE TRAVELING WITH THE ARMY ON THE NINTH
Ts’en Shen
If only I could climb somewhere
but no one sends me wine
my poor distant garden of mums
blooms by a battlefield now
RÉFLÉCHANT DE MA MAISON EN YAKIMA PENDANT QUE J’ ÉTAIS Á BICYCLETTE EN LE AVENUE NEUVIÉME
Si seulement je pourvoyais monter Montaigne Froid−
mais pour quel raison.
Le gardien de ma femme plein de basilic
demande du Chemin,
pourquoi nous combattons les rosiers?
THINKING OF MY HOME IN YAKIMA WHILE RIDING MY ON NINTH AVENUE
If only I could climb Cold Mountain−
but for what reason.
My wife’s garden, full of basil,
asks the Way
why do we war with the roses?
SONG ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY −NINE
Han Shan
Live without making visits
die neither kind nor just
words include limbs and leaves
thoughts contain lies and betrayals
people who clear a small path
thereby give rise to great deceit
claiming to build a ladder to the clouds
they whittle it into splinters
CENT SOIXANTE VINGT – NEUF ESCELIERS AU CIEL
Vous vit sans rendre visites á Stevie Wonder
Vous meurt ni gentil ni juste
mots cultivent branches et feuilles
réflexions fleurons mensonges et abuses de confiance.
Coupait les arbres construire escaliers au nuages
Stevie nie, fend et brise le Chemin
ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY −NINE STAIRWAYS TO HEAVEN
Live without visiting Stevie Wonder
die neither kind nor just
words grow branches and leaves
thoughts blossom lies and betrayal.
Cutting down the trees to build stairways to the clouds
Stevie nixes, splinters, and shatters the Way
Bionote
Doug
Johnson is the founding editor of Cave Moon Press. He holds a
PhD in Psychology and is a member of Mensa. His poems and
photographs have appeared
across the U.S. in literary journals.
His short stories have appeared in Audience
and Skive out of New York and
Australia. His book of short fiction Frank’s Diary was
nominated for the
Pacific Northwest Bookseller’s Award. A chapbook
will be released by Red Ochre Press called Pedaling
Blind. His debut novel appears
in fall of 2013. Of the book, Home on the Range,
Naomi Shihab Nye
wrote: “Douglas P.
Johnson, citizen of the world, visionary artist of words and
visual images,
responds deeply and generously to the mysteries and
complexities we are living
through. He is a voice of witness and
empathy, resonantly attentive to the voices and stories around
him- poems as
corrals, gathering places, or poems as sieves, filtering out
the tiny
glittering stones.”
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