Thursday, October 27, 2011

Visiting My Uncle in the Sierra Nevada Foothills

Here, in these misty folds of hills, you have rested
for these fifteen years. How lonely it must be

to be so out of the way. Your sons and daughters
have all moved away, and only visit every few years

when there’s another funeral in town. The road here 
twists and turns, and it’s a wonder I still remember 

the way to this hidden place. This year, your last brother
have passed through, so you four brothers

must be together and are ready to move on, 
so I'll say my last goodbye.

There is not a sound, not a sight of a living thing,
except for a scrub jay pointing me on my way.

~after Du Fu

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I love this one, it has a nice rhythm to it, too.