top of page

Trying My Hand at Translating Li Bai

 

 

A bright moon, of course,

appears almost immediately 

in the sky of the page.

Azure peaks soon join it,

mist wafting in and among them.

 

Then, somewhere deep along

one of the narrow trails there

and barely visible, a recluse

lifts a hand to give a wave  

just as he turns to disappear.

​

​

​

(Published in FIELD, No. 100, Spring 2019)

​

Back to Selected New Poems

bottom of page