Reaching the Hermitage

by


At evening I make it down the mountain.
Keeping company with the moon.
Looking back I see the paths I've taken
Blue now, blue beneath the skyline.
You greet me, show the hidden track,
Where children pull back hawthorn curtains,
Reveal green bamboo, the secret path,
Vines that touch the traveller's clothes.
I love finding space to rest,
Clear wine to enjoy with you.
Wind in the pines till voices stop,
Songs till the Ocean of Heaven pales.
I get drunk and you are happy,
Both of us pleased to forget the world.


8.7

facebook share button twitter share button reddit share button share on pinterest pinterest


Add Reaching the Hermitage to your library.

Return to the Li Bai library , or . . . Read the next poem; Remembering the Springs at Ch’ih-chou

© 2024 AmericanLiterature.com