Monday, June 20, 2016

The forge-fire sets a glow in the heavens,
the hammer thunders, showering the smoke with sparks.

A ruddy smithy, the white face of the moon,
and the hammer, ringing down cold dark canyons.

Li T'ai-po
translator: Hamil

I like a poem that takes the reader to another place and time.
Li Po composed this from China in the 700s.

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