Dripping, dripping in the Hsiang forest
All through the windy night
Shaking the branches, violent sometimes,
Knocking on my ears: I cannot sleep.
The spirit of poetry rises in me.
Awake in the morning, I go to see the new shoots,
Thousands risen in a single night. Strange, strange indeed.
Lê Thánh Tông (1442-1497) Vietnam
Translated by Nguyen Ngoc Bich
Source: poempire
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please keep your comments relevant and free from abusive language. Thank you. Note that comments are moderated so it may be a day or two before your comment is posted - irrelevant or abusive comments will not be published.