#AmericanWriters
All streams flowing East or West Must flow into the sea; The current from the middleland Sweeps by the lonely island. Gold and silver pebbles mingle,
I sit through the long night In the high tower, And listen to the autumn rain Outside my window. There is no sound of human life,
The sun sets low in the west; The farewell song is over; We are separating. Leaning on the sandalwood oar I g… Far away, the sky.
The dying sun lies sadly in the fa… The autumn wind blows mercilessly; The yellow leaves fall. From the mountain peak, Two streams parted unwillingly,
Our togetherness is like a sweet d… Too sweet, too bitter sweet, Whose awakening should have been i… And now like a dream you will vani… And only in dream can we chance to…
I wish neither to possess, Nor to be possessed. I no longer covet paradise, More important, I no longer fear… The medicine for my suffering
Alone I wander in silence And in the sky the two escaped par… Fall from fear of fishermen. The two fish swim; One white, one gold.
Love is like a friendship caught o… In the beginning a flame, Very pretty, often hot and fierce But still and only light and flick… As love grows older, our hearts ma…
Who knows when meeting shall ever… It might be for years or It might be forever. Let us then take a lump of clay, Wet it, pat it,
The surroundings utter no sound. Time suddenly ceases. Gently you fall into my arms. The years of a lifetime never reac… Yet they contain a thousand years’…
The wind is in high frolic with th… Outside the garden a little yellow… Clinging desparately to its mother… I pick up the leaf And put it in the book,
For a moment The surrounding utters no sound. Time ceases. The paradise of dreams come true.
I live in memory of a dream Which has come and gone; In solitude I sit on my boat As it glides freely down the tranq… Across the blue sky, the swallows…
Rain, Black clouds, Fallen blossoms and pale moon, The hurried flight of birds The arrival of lonely autumn
The breeze on the bank Already blows cool and mild; The distant merging of lake and sk… Is but a red trace of sunset. The deep silence of the lake,