Friday Night Poetry

Some say the 20th century was an age of exiles and refugees. I believe there's some truth to that but here's a poem by a Chinese poet who was an exile in Japan a very long time ago (translation: Kenneth Rexroth).


Exile in Japan


On the balcony of the tower
I play my flute and watch
The Spring rain.
I wonder
If I ever
Will go home and see
The tide rushing upriver
through the Chekiang.
Straw sandals, an old
Begging bowl, nobody
Knows me. On how many
Bridges have I trampled
The fallen cherry blossoms?


—Su Man Shu