Note to Wang Wei

His Thought Made Pockets (1958)

How could you be so happy, now some thousand yearsdishevelled, puffs of dust?It leaves me uneasy at last,Your poems teaze me to the verge of tearsAnd your fate. It makes me think.It makes me long for mountains & blue waters.Makes me wonder how much to allow.(I’m reconfirming, God of bolts & bangs,of fugues & bucks, whose rocket burns & sings.)I wish we could meet for a drinkin a ‘freedom from the thousand matters’.Be dust myself pretty soon; not now.

His Thought Made Pockets (1958)