Мария Визи - A moongate in my wall: собрание стихотворений

Powdered with falling snow,
the crow turns white;
the moon's translucent glow
pales the black night.
Only a loving heart that constant stays
will never change its color through the days.

What will become of me
after I die?
Standing on the top of Mount Pon-ne-san
I want to be a tall, straight pine tree
So that my green crown
May reach the grey sky
Even in winter.

Over the autumn river
The cold night breezes play.
No matter how often I cast my line,
I can catch no fish today.
I have only loaded my sorry sloop
With all the moonlight I can scoop.

I built a three-room hut of clay
To dwell in, with my friends;
One for myself, one for the moon,
The third one for the winds.
Only the distant mountains must remain
Under the open sky and autumn rain.

I do not need a straw mat
I can sit on the fallen leaves.
About the lighting do not worry either —
The half moon soon will light the sky.
Why co m p lain about the modest fare!
Bring it — I am not a demanding guest.

Life, like a tortuous river, has led to divided streams:
clear blue sky and the peach's gentle blossom gleams,
reflected, as if in glass, in the limpid surface of one,
while tossing in storm and fury, the other hurtles on.
How can 1 seek then, carefree, the Inlet of Greatest Peace,
now that over my country the war winds never cease?

No one knew until now that there were in the world
such corners as Kosang
where my hut stands on the seashore,
where my friends now like to visit,
while i read the works of Chu Hsi,
imagining my self in Mu Yi.

The sun comes up over the Rock of Dawn —
how beautiful is the Ilgok First Bend!
The mist has flown from the dewy meadows,
and the mountains have appeared on the horizon.
Having put a jug of wine in front of myself,
I sit under the pines and await my friends.

Everything has begun to bloom
on the hill of Awakening. —
How beautiful is the Igok bend!
The petals of spring flow'ers float down from the knoll
on the waves that retreat into the sea…
People will know' about this now — from me.

The woods are screened by the Green Curtain. —
How beautiful is the Samgok bend!
Birds sing fantastic songs!
A duet down below, a trio — from above,
And the wind, with a pine-tree brush,
paints the picture of summer in the blue sky.

The sun sets beyond the Pinetree Fan. —
How beautiful is the Sagok bend!
The mirror smoothness of the water
Reflects the mountain tops and stately woods,
And a hundred hues of the sunset… I look
And a feeling of wonder fills me to the brim.

The Forest Screen breathes of pine. —
How beautiful is the Ogok bend!
A little house stands here, clean and orderly,
As if it had bathed in spring water.
I know: alone in it, one can
sing the enchantment of the moonlight nigh.

The raindrops are falling, falling on the smooth lake surface,
the willows, the weeping willows are wrapped in silent mist.
Where shall I look for you, my young fisherman?..
A lonely skiff presses its stern to the shore.
Dusk has settled upon the lusterless water.
A white gull darts aimlessly back and forth…

Wait, i am still holding your hands.
Don't push mo away, don't leave!
I see the night descending, the night of parting,
upon the flowers and trees of the garden.
But the (stub) of the candle will flicker on till morning,
and all will be clear by sunrise!

Exiled by enemies to bleak Kangho,
In loneliness, five faithful friends I found:
Water, Bamboo, a Cliff, a Pine, the Moon
that rises over yonder Eastern Mcund.
No calumny can sway them toward betrayal:
In lofty friendship they will never fail.

I love the blue sky,
but in the sky dark clouds are born.
I love the impetuous wind,
but the wind is changeable…

Only you, Water, always
carry away my sorrows.

How beautiful were the flowers!
But now they have lost their petals.
The lush, bright-colored grasses
Have also dried and withered.

Only you, in your modest grey garment,
Granite cliff, have remained the same!

The warm days are over,
the trees have lost their leaves,
but angry winter storms
fail to scare you, Pine —
deep into the earth
your stubborn roots are grown.

Shining upon ten thousand things
you pass over the world. Moon,
and your bright gaze penetrates
into the depths of a darkened heart.
Thus silently into my eyes
gazes my closest friend.

In the mountains I built my chihbi
Of clay and of willow branches,
And the valley people are mocking
And laughing at my idea.
They do not know I have found
Freedom from care in the chihbi.

Alone on a moonlight night
I gaze at a distant mountain.
The mountain is more perfect than my love
from whom I have parted:
The mountain is silent,
and no one will make us quarrel.

The creator may think
that I've no desire to work
for the good of myself and of others…
But I'm doing something important:
having left the malicious, the knaves,
I'm standing guard over nature.

Close the door tighter,
and blow out the candle…
I'm very tired, my friend,
I'm going to fall fast asleep.
But should a welcome guest
arrive, — awaken me.

Leaves, falling, wilt and dry;
its petals drops the flower,
and sap-filled grasses die
on scheduled hour.
Alone, the image of my land stays bright
through autumn days as on a summer night.

Close your book and open the window wide,
look: the ships are sailing away to sea.
The white gulls are following after them.
White seagulls! If we could also sail
far away to some peaceful harbor,
where there is no vain glory,
where friends alone await me.

Snow has blanketed our village.
It has blocked every road and trail.
My gate is snowbound. No friend
will knock on it. By the window
I'll spend this night with my only
friend — the moon.

I've left all thought of riches,
I've left all thought of glory.
I've left all thought of happiness, —
I've left all thought of myself…
So after I die
would anyone think of me?!

I am the lord of the streams and the green hills
scattered over the width of the Earth,
of pure and (untouched) nature.
No one can compete with me,
because, unlike the rich,
I keep my possessions in my soul.