jueves, 5 de noviembre de 2009


It has turned cold.
The mountains grow more vast and more blue.
The Autumn waterfalls are louder.
I take my cane and go out to the gate for a walk.
I can hear the last crickets
Singing in the chilly evening.
I am happy. The rays of the setting sun
Shine through the evening smoke
That hover over the village.
I throw back my head,
Drunk with beauty,
And sing the "Willow song"
At the top of my lungs.
Wang Wei (Trad. de Kenneth Rexroth)

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