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trinkie
27-Mar-07, 20:11
Illness and Idleness
by Po Chu-i
A.D. 812
translated by Arthur Waley.

Illness and idleness give me much leisure.
What do I do with my leisure when it comes?
I cannot bring myself to discard inkstone and brush,
Now and then I make a new poem.
When the poem is made, it is slight and flavourless
A thing of derision to almost every one.
Superior people will be pained at the flatness of the metre;
Common people will hate the plainness of the words;
I sing to myself, then stop and think about it......

cliffhbuber
30-Mar-07, 19:33
Thank you Trinkie for the inspirational poetry you provide.

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When thrust by idleness into a trough
Of blowing winds and erratic clouds,
I feel the harness of nature's energy
Cloaking me in uncertain blanket.

With wild flowers bending to a breeze,
And washing waves scampering about,
The rocks and woods re-energize to
Protect the universal creatures
That seek comfort and shelter.

Amongst animals and insects one
Finds the space of rejuvenation,
A moment of unending time
To protect and salve seeking soul.

ch - March 2007