I don’t want to believe it, either—
so I won’t, until the image clears.
Then there is only what there is
and I won’t have to believe anything
I can’t see, or in anything I can’t see.
Maybe belief is only what we practice
while waiting. I only know I’d kill anything
and hold it up to the sun to see you safe.
Parting and parting the grasses on the plain
which one year withers and one year flourishes
which burns again but is never destroyed
a spring wind blows over this life resurging
its fragrance trespasses old paths in the distance
–Po Chü-i (Bai Ju-yi)
even to the abandoned city comes jade clarity
as we part again, my friend, separated by world’s wind
it’s as deep grasses parting on a crowded plain
translated by Jeff Schwaner