Peach-tree flowers over rising waters.
White drowned stones, then free again.
Wistaria-blossom on quivering branches.
Clear blue sky. The waxing moon.
How many tight-coiled scrolls of bracken,
On green tracks where I once walked?
When I-m back from exile in Yeh-lang,
There I-ll transmute my bones to gold.
Remembering The Springs At Ch-ih-chou
Li Po
(1)
Poem topics: green, moon, sky, tree, blue, white, clear, gold, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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