Gone are the days,
are the centuries, even,
when government officials
retired to become
poets in gardens
of their own design,
as here in Suzhou
happened for so long:
a gnarled shaft
of limestone here,
there a willow’s
green locks swaying
above the fishpond,
a zigzag bridge
to a pagoda where,
far from the capital,
one could finally
attend to matters
of real importance:
the moon’s reflection
troubled by a carp.
From: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?volume=161&issue=4&page=32
Date: 1993
By: Jeffrey W. Harrison (19??- )
