Friday, May 2, 2008

Liu Ch'e

Ezra Pound (1914)

The rustling of the silk is discontinued,
Dust drifts over the court-yard
There is no sound of foot-fall, and the leaves
Scurry into heaps and lie still,
And she the rejoicer of the heart is beneath them:

A wet leaf that clings to the threshold.

1 comment:

dan said...

from Writing Poems by Robert Wallace (3rd Edition)