“The lingering clouds, rolling, rolling,
And the settled rain, dripping, dripping,
In the Eight Directions—the same dusk.
The level lands—one great river.
Wine I have, wine I have:
Idly I drink at the eastern window.
Longingly—I think of my friends,
But neither boat nor carriage comes.”
Flood ~ Björn Rudberg
Beneath cloud shadows tumbling
curtains of drizzle are sprinkling.
A world veiled — in unison gloom,
Horizon stays wide — one river alone
A frosted glass in my hand,
raised to welcome the dawn.
I wait for a knock on my door,
but pandemic still keeps us apart.
Laura inspires us with classic Chinese poetry today at dVerse and asks us to interpret the original Chinese Poems without using the words. The titles should be the same. My choice was the poem Flood by Tao Chien, and to me the waiting for friends made me think about the year we are still spending alone, waiting for the social distancing to diminish.
April 20, 2021