keith holyoak

     As evening approaches
along the mountain paths
      I come to my chamber
above the Water Gate.
 
      Wisps of cloud
rest on the edges of cliffs;
      a lonely moon
slowly turns in the waves.
 
      A line of cranes
flies past on its silent hunt;
      a pack of wolves
howls around its prey.
 
      I cannot sleep,
plagued by thoughts of war,
      and powerless
to spare the world its fate.

© 2006 by Keith Holyoak (translator)
First printed in Chrysanthemum (2006)