Death Poem by Tran Nhan Tong
Death
The wild-raging storm sweeps the whole earth now,
running adrift the drunken fisherman's boat.
From all four quarters, clouds thicken and blacken,
waves surge like the report of beaten drums,
everything washed out by slashing rain, gust-driven,
beneath the shuddering menace of this thunder.
Afterward, the dust settles, the sky grows calm,
and the moonlit river lengthens out. What time of night is this?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/26/2024 7:51:40 AM # 1.0.0.1119
