A Bus Ride


A Bus Ride

Tune pattern: Zhegu tian



I close my eyes and little dreams rise and fall:

The unusual now becomes the usual.

Through ceaseless wind and snow, we come and go.

There are limits to the cold and warmth we feel,

            whether our journey is short or long.


Through villages dim and the wilderness vast,

The thundering wheels roll. But why such haste?

Clouds and mountains move backward. Why?

Regretting the passing of light,

            both grasp at the evening sun.



—Chang Ch’ung-ho

Translated by Hans H. Frankel and Ian Boyden


[This poem first appeared in the artist book Peach Blossom Fish (Crab Quill Press, 1999.]


Constellations of Humanity

Each luminous dot on this map represents one reader of this poem. As the number of readers increases, the stars begin to cluster and form an increasingly detailed constellation. My intent is to show how brightly a poem glows across our world. I welcome your light.

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