It is night time, and cold, and snow is falling, And no wind grieves the walls. In the small world of light around the arc-lamp A swarm of snowflakes falls and falls....
As I walked through the lamplit gardens, On the thin white crust of snow, So intensely was I thinking of my misfortune, So clearly were my eyes fixed On the face of this grief which has come to me,...
How many times have we been interrupted Just as I was about to make up a story for you! One time it was because we suddenly saw a firefly Lighting his green lantern among the boughs of a fir-tree....
My heart is an old house, and in that forlorn old house, In the very centre, dark and forgotten, Is a locked room where an enchanted princess Lies sleeping. But sometimes, in that dark house,...
Like an old tree uprooted by the wind And flung down cruelly With roots bared to the sun and stars And limp leaves brought to earth Torn from its house So do I seem to myself When you have left me.
The music of the morning is red and warm; Snow lies against the walls; And on the sloping roof in the yellow sunlight Pigeons huddle against the wind. The music of evening is attenuated and thin...
It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning When the light drips through the shutters like the dew, I arise, I face the sunrise, And do the things my fathers learned to do....
Music I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was more than bread; Now that I am without you, all is desolate; All that was once so beautiful is dead. ...
Moonlight silvers the tops of trees, Moonlight whitens the lilac shadowed wall And through the evening fall, Clearly, as if through enchanted seas, Footsteps passing, an infinite distance away,...
After the movie, when the lights come up, He takes her powdered hand behind the wings; She, all in yellow, like a buttercup, Lifts her white face, yearns up to him, and clings;...
Senlin sits before us, and we see him. He smokes his pipe before us, and we hear him. Is he small, with reddish hair, Does he light his pipe with meditative stare, And a pointed flame reflected in both eyes?...
Senlin, walking beside us, swings his arms And turns his head to look at walls and trees. The wind comes whistling from shrill stars of winter, The lights are jewels, black roots freeze....
It is evening, Senlin says, and in the evening, By a silent shore, by a far distant sea, White unicorns come gravely down to the water. In the lilac dusk they come, they are white and stately,...
Senlin, walking before us in the sunlight, Bending his small legs in a peculiar way, Goes to his work with thoughts of the universe. His hands are in his pockets, he smokes his pipe,...
In the hot noon, in an old and savage garden, The peach-tree grows. Its cruel and ugly roots Rend and rifle the silent earth for moisture. Above, in the blue, hang warm and golden fruits....
Rustling among his odds and ends of knowledge Suddenly, to his wonder, Senlin finds How Cleopatra and Senebtisi Were dug by many hands from ancient tombs. Cloth after scented cloth the sage unwinds:...
'And am I then a pyramid?' says Senlin, 'In which are caves and coffins, where lies hidden Some old and mocking hieroglyph of flesh? Or am I rather the moonlight, spreading subtly...
In cold blue lucid dusk before the sunrise, One yellow star sings over a peak of snow, And melts and vanishes in a light like roses. Through slanting mist, black rocks appear and glow....
I am a house, says Senlin, locked and darkened, Sealed from the sun with wall and door and blind. Summon me loudly, and you'll hear slow footsteps Ring far and faint in the galleries of my mind....
It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning When the light drips through the shutters like the dew, I arise, I face the sunrise, And do the things my fathers learned to do....