by Wang Wei

Wang Wei

September skies are clear to the distance
Clearer still so far from human kind.
A heron by the pool, a mountain cloud,
Either of them makes the mind content.
The faintest ripples still and evening's here.
The moon turns silver and I dream,
Tonight leaning on a single oar,
Drifting without thought of going home.

Last updated January 14, 2019