|The Chinese Travelogue|
If you could dull its perspicuity, free it from chaos, limit its gleam,
liken it to a grain of dust, then it would seem to exist clearly.
Flute answers flute,
not a bone or wooden one,
but the one which mountains hold
in their caves and cracks.
Strings answer strings
and word answers word.
And my heart’s wish answers
the swiftly ascending evening star:
you bring out thousands of stars
and with a thousand wishes my heart burns
with a myriad of wishes about one and the same thing:
and look at me, my inspired friend,
watch the sparkle of the night...
Flute responds to flute –
not ivory or wooden,
but the one that the mountains hold
in their caves and crevasses.
Strings respond to strings,
and words respond to words.
And the supplication of my heart
responds to the quickly rising evening star:
you breed thousands of stars,
and thousands of supplications burn my heart,
myriad supplications about one and the same thing:
glance at me, my inspired friend,
see how the night sparkles...