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A Lonely Traveller

Since we are all broken-spirited travellers on this lonely planet, what need is there to have known each other before we meet?

  1. A scribbling for a Green Basil

    by , 08-05-2010 at 11:48 PM (A Lonely Traveller)
    Wearing a green blouse,
    standing outside in the morning,
    you look like a maid from an ancient palace
    carrying a long vase on your shoulder.

    Small purple bells dot your vase here and there,
    and every bell gives off a faint scent.
    Four buzzing bees come flying to collect your sweet pollen,
    all dancing like four cheerful young girls,
    gathering water from a well in an age-old town.

    The purple vase is nothing but a source ...

    Updated 08-06-2010 at 11:35 AM by angliholic

  2. To a Little Flower without a Name

    by , 08-05-2010 at 01:31 PM (A Lonely Traveller)

    In the early morning,
    your little pink cheeks were covered with beads of tears.
    Now Iím by your side, and your tears turn to smiles.
    You are always quiet and simply smile for no reason.
    I donít care how much more beautiful a rose can be
    As long as I can appreciate your lovely smiling face.

    Itís destined for us to be lovers again
    Because a long long time ago, I believe,
    in one of our myriad previous lives,
    you ...

    Updated 08-05-2010 at 01:44 PM by angliholic

  3. A Snow-covered River

    by , 08-05-2010 at 08:16 AM (A Lonely Traveller)
    Neither a bird can be seen flying above those thousand hills,
    nor a footprint found on those ten thousand trails.
    There is only a boat with an old man in straw quilts,
    fishing alone in a snow-covered river.

    Updated 08-05-2010 at 09:01 AM by angliholic

  4. Watershore

    by , 08-04-2010 at 11:49 PM (A Lonely Traveller)
    I've been sitting here for four afternoons;

    No one walks past, not to mention the shuffle of footsteps.
    In the loneliness, lacy ankle-high ferns grew to reach over my shoulders. covering me for no reason at all.
    If the water babling is a memory that is hard to forget,
    I can only let it be written on a stationary cloud.
    Twenty paces to the south stands a smiling dandelion;
    A breeze blows its pollen onto my bamboo hat.
    Ah, what can my hat ...

    Updated 08-04-2010 at 11:52 PM by angliholic

  5. A Mistake

    by , 08-04-2010 at 09:27 PM (A Lonely Traveller)

    While I'm passing through south-east China,
    the pretty faces waiting in the season bloom and fade like lotus flowers.

    The east wind doesn't come; the willow catkins in March don't fly--
    your heart is like a small lonely town.
    When there is no footstep on a bluestone street at dusk--
    the spring curtains don't draw open in March.
    Your heart is a small tightly-closed window.

    The clip clop of my horse is a beautiful mistake:

    Updated 08-05-2010 at 09:08 AM by angliholic

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