Translated by Brett Rutherford
From a Chinese Painting and Poem by Shen Chou, 1470 CE.
Gone, gone, gone. Gone to the west
wind, the leaves have fled. Still, there is
sun, still some shade under half-
disrobed maples. I loosen
my collar, I just lean back
and read my book. No clock, no
appointments, all idleness.
It is a long book; I have
all the Autumn ahead
To read, or to gaze on up
at the sky that pulls on me.
Here below -- or on up there --
who knows what I shall do next?
Op. 1050, January 19, 2020, from a 2006 FB post.
