Po Chu-I

(China)

Night on the West River


No moon
To light my way upon the stair,
Cold comfort
In the wine I drink alone.

Black clouds,
Rain,
The hurried flight of birds,
Water flowing grayly
In the dusk.

A rising storm,
Boats tugging at their mooring ropes.
Or sails full-spread
To take advantage of the wind.

A moving point of fire
In the dark,
The distant lantern
Of a passing boat.

Submitted: Thursday, September 30, 2010
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