Su Tung P’O (11th c. Chinese poet)


Starting at dawn, zigzagging up

Mt. Shozan, at a narrow pass

A web blocks the path.  Sun through it

As through silk, at the web’s

Center, a calm, jeweled spider.


Moments pass;  tingling


He turns, re-routes his way.

Later, by his brother’s fire,

The wine jars that had been full,

Light, he thinks to the spider,

Wind thrumming its web,


The moon full in all eight eyes.

© slovitt 2023
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From black clouds, spilt ink…. a great one for observational work.

Why should I strain my ears
Listening to the squeaks of this autumn insect?
Better lay aside the book
And drink my cup of jade-white wine.

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