Friday Night Poetry

The Chinese poet, Lu Yu died some 800 years ago just before the Mongol invasions. The translated lines are by Kenneth Rexroth.


Night Thoughts


I cannot sleep. The long, long
Night is full of bitterness.
Memories of the past flood back
Until they have exhausted me.
I sit alone in my room,
Beside a smoky lamp.
I rub my heavy eyelids
And idly turn the pages
Of my notebook. Again and again
I trim my brush and stir the ink.
The hours go by. The moon comes
And stands in the open door,
White and shining like molten silver.
At last I fall asleep and
I dream of the days on the
River at Tsa-feng, and the
Friends of my youth in Yen Chao.
Young and happy we ran
Over the beautiful hills.
And now the years have gone by,
And I have never gone back.


—Lu Yu