Alone, Looking for Blossoms Along the River
The sorrow of riverside blossoms inexplicable,
And nowhere to complain -- I've gone half crazy.
I look up our southern neighbor. But my friend in wine
Gone ten days drinking. I find only an empty bed.
A thick frenzy of blossoms shrouding the riverside,
I stroll, listing dangerously, in full fear of spring.
Poems, wine -- even this profusely driven, I endure.
Arrangements for this old, white-haired man can wait.
A deep river, two or three houses in bamboo quiet,
And such goings on: red blossoms glaring with white!
Among spring's vociferous glories, I too have my place:
With a lovely wine, bidding life's affairs bon voyage.
Looking east to Shao, its smoke filled with blossoms,
I admire that stately Po-hua wineshop even more.
To empty golden wine cups, calling such beautiful
Dancing girls to embroidered mats -- who could bear it?
East of the river, before Abbot Huang's grave,
Spring is a frail splendor among gentle breezes.
In this crush of peach blossoms opening ownerless,
Shall I treasure light reds, or treasure them dark?
At Madame Huang's house, blossoms fill the paths:
Thousands, tens of thousands haul the branches down.
And butterflies linger playfully -- an unbroken
Dance floating to songs orioles sing at their ease.
I don't so love blossoms I want to die. I'm afraid,
Once they are gone, of old age still more impetuous.
And they scatter gladly, by the branchful. Let's talk
Things over, little buds ---open delicately, sparingly.
Related quotes
Alone, Looking For Blossoms Along The River
The sorrow of riverside blossoms inexplicable,
And nowhere to complain -- I've gone half crazy.
I look up our southern neighbor. But my friend in wine
Gone ten days drinking. I find only an empty bed.
A thick frenzy of blossoms shrouding the riverside,
I stroll, listing dangerously, in full fear of spring.
Poems, wine -- even this profusely driven, I endure.
Arrangements for this old, white-haired man can wait.
A deep river, two or three houses in bamboo quiet,
And such goings on: red blossoms glaring with white!
Among spring's vociferous glories, I too have my place:
With a lovely wine, bidding life's affairs bon voyage.
Looking east to Shao, its smoke filled with blossoms,
I admire that stately Po-hua wineshop even more.
To empty golden wine cups, calling such beautiful
Dancing girls to embroidered mats -- who could bear it?
East of the river, before Abbot Huang's grave,
Spring is a frail splendor among gentle breezes.
In this crush of peach blossoms opening ownerless,
Shall I treasure light reds, or treasure them dark?
At Madame Huang's house, blossoms fill the paths:
Thousands, tens of thousands haul the branches down.
And butterflies linger playfully -- an unbroken
Dance floating to songs orioles sing at their ease.
I don't so love blossoms I want to die. I'm afraid,
Once they are gone, of old age still more impetuous.
And they scatter gladly, by the branchful. Let's talk
Things over, little buds -- open delicately, sparingly.
poem by Du Fu
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
Alone, Looking for Blossoms Along the River
this path mom walked
to market each morn
she must have loved the flowers by the river too
inspired by
Alone, Looking for Blossoms Along the River
The sorrow of riverside blossoms inexplicable,
And nowhere to complain - I've gone half crazy.
I look up our southern neighbor. But my friend in wine
Gone ten days drinking. I find only an empty bed.
A thick frenzy of blossoms shrouding the riverside,
I stroll, listing dangerously, in full fear of spring.
Poems, wine - even this profusely driven, I endure.
Arrangements for this old, white-haired man can wait.
A deep river, two or three houses in bamboo quiet,
And such goings on: red blossoms glaring with white!
Among spring's vociferous glories, I too have my place:
With a lovely wine, bidding life's affairs bon voyage.
Looking east to Shao, its smoke filled with blossoms,
I admire that stately Po-hua wineshop even more.
To empty golden wine cups, calling such beautiful
Dancing girls to embroidered mats - who could bear it?
East of the river, before Abbot Huang's grave,
Spring is a frail splendor among gentle breezes.
In this crush of peach blossoms opening ownerless,
Shall I treasure light reds, or treasure them dark?
At Madame Huang's house, blossoms fill the paths:
Thousands, tens of thousands haul the branches down.
And butterflies linger playfully - an unbroken
Dance floating to songs orioles sing at their ease.
I don't so love blossoms I want to die. I'm afraid,
Once they are gone, of old age still more impetuous.
And they scatter gladly, by the branchful. Let's talk
Things over, little buds -open delicately, sparingly.
Tu Fu
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life Blossoms into vitality
Petals blossoms into flowers,
Clouds blossom into rain,
Seeds blossoms into trees,
Minutes blossom into hours,
Bricks blossom into dwellings,
Anger blossoms into destruction,
Exuberance blossoms into newness,
Nervousness blossoms into exhaustion,
Teamwork blossoms into unity,
Perseverance blossoms into success,
Beauty blossoms into enchantment,
Intrigue blossoms into enigma,
Trends blossom into innovations,
Eggs blossom into fledglings,
Rose blossoms into scent,
Sun blossoms into optimism,
Stars blossom into radiation,
Soil blossoms into vegetation,
Art blossoms into exoticism,
Ice blossoms into waterfalls,
Fire blossoms into compassion,
Imagination blossoms into concepts,
Wine blossoms into sedation,
War blossoms into hatred,
Pearls blossom into resplendence,
Dreams blossom into floatation,
Fashion blossoms into style,
Roots blossom into stem,
Salt blossoms into tanginess,
Strength blossoms into fortitude,
Resilience blossoms into conviction,
Surrender blossoms into despair,
Truth blossoms into harmony,
Relationships blossom into empathy,
Violence blossoms into prejudice,
Discrimination blossoms into bloodshed,
Scalp blossoms into hair,
Love blossoms into passion,
Peace blossoms into solidarity,
Rainbow blossoms into vivacity,
Endeavor blossoms into sweetness,
Tunes blossom into songs,
Mind blossoms into ingenuity,
Wilderness blossoms into mysticism,
Flames blossom into ardor,
Corpses blossom into ghosts,
Retreat blossoms into sadness,
Bondage blossoms into rebel,
Faith blossoms into worship,
Infidelity blossoms into nemesis,
Idiosyncrasy blossoms into nothingness,
Spiders blossom into webs,
Benevolence blossoms into humanity,
Independence blossoms into character,
Renunciation blossoms into divine,
Introspection blossoms into discovering,
Emotions blossom into yearning,
Death blossoms into extinction,
And life blossoms into vitality…..
poem by Nikhil Parekh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blossoms and My Love
The unusual winter warmth,
Has brought the spring fever in the nature and in my heart,
The pink, purple and white blossoms are blooming all around,
just reminding me of your warm and sensuous loving heart.
How can I compare your beauty with the spring blossoms?
In red blossoms, I see your luscious red lips,
In white blossoms, I see your beautiful body,
The purple blossoms, reminds me of the depth of your eyes,
Closer I get to the blossoms,
closer I get to the God's intricate creation,
Closer I get to your loving affection,
closer I watch the heavenly smiles on your lips.
Under the blossoming tree I walk,
the fragrance fills my love yearning heart,
When I hug you with my sincere love,
your sweet 'I love you' words, fills me with eternal love.
poem by Jay P Narain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wisdom
Love wine and beauty and the spring,
While wine is red and spring is here,
And through the almond blossoms ring
The dove-like voices of thy Dear.
Love wine and spring and beauty while
The wine hath flavour and spring masks
Her treachery in so soft a smile
That none may think of toil and tasks.
But when spring goes on hurrying feet,
Look not thy sorrow in the eyes,
And bless thy freedom from thy sweet:
This is the wisdom of the wise.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring Blossoms
The blossoms dance on the breeze
drifting along like snowflakes
across my windows.
Some are pink and some are white
lazily they drift
on the currents of the breeze
underneath a simmering sun
the spring blossoms that I see.
Like fluffy feathery down
rising up towards the heavens
and the back down they come.
Tiny parasols drifting
across in the breeze
on a sunny day
the spring blossoms that I see.
29 May 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fruitless blossom
There were women at different ages
At different stages, with different shades,
Responsible for my springs and blossoms.
They remained as blossoms and withered.
Trees send blossoms in every spring and
Fruits later, though less in proportion.
Women of mine gave me only blossoms
Which fed my nose and left my stomach.
19.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Blossoms On The Trees
Blossoms crimson, white, or blue,
Purple, pink, and every hue,
From sunny skies, to tintings drowned
In dusky drops of dew,
I praise you all, wherever found,
And love you through and through--;
But, Blossoms On The Trees,
With your breath upon the breeze
There's nothing all the world around
As half as sweet as you!
Could the rhymer only wring
All the sweetness to the lees
Of all the kisses clustering
In juicy Used-to-bes,
To dip his rhymes therein and sing
The blossoms on the trees--,
'O Blossoms on the Trees,'
He would twitter, trill, and coo,
'However sweet, such songs as these
Are not as sweet as you--:
For you are blooming melodies
The eyes may listen to!'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Songs Of Shattering
I
The first rose on my rose-tree
Budded, bloomed, and shattered,
During sad days when to me
Nothing mattered.
Grief of grief has drained me clean;
Still it seems a pity
No one saw,—it must have been
Very pretty.
II
Let the little birds sing;
Let the little lambs play;
Spring is here; and so 'tis spring;—
But not in the old way!
I recall a place
Where a plum-tree grew;
There you lifted up your face,
And blossoms covered you.
If the little birds sing,
And the little lambs play,
Spring is here; and so 'tis spring—
But not in the old way!
III
All the dog-wood blossoms are underneath the tree!
Ere spring was going—ah, spring is gone!
And there comes no summer to the like of you and me,—
Blossom time is early, but no fruit sets on.
All the dog-wood blossoms are underneath the tree,
Browned at the edges, turned in a day;
And I would with all my heart they trimmed a mound for me,
And weeds were tall on all the paths that led that way!
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Apple Blossoms
Apple blossoms, the smell is in the air,
I cast aside my doubts,
The grass is green, the sky is clear,
Spring burst forth in a profusion of colors,
Replacing in its stride the gloom of winter,
The ice around my heart is melting,
The warmth of spring fills me with a rush,
Apple blossoms a spectacle of red,
Falling amid the grass,
Making a colorful array of green and red,
Along with the sunshine,
What more could one ask,
Apple blossoms, spring is here at last!
poem by Marva Seaton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today
This song appears on two albums, and was first released on the an evening with john denver album, and has also been released on the country classics album. some versions of the first album do no
Tain this song.
Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine
Ill taste your strawberries, Ill drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today
Ill be a dandy, and Ill be a rover
Youll know who I am by the songs that I sing
Ill feast at your table, Ill sleep in your clover
Who cares what the morrow shall bring
Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine
Ill taste your strawberries, Ill drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today
I cant be contented with yesterdays glory
I cant live on promises winter to spring
Today is my moment, now is my story
Ill laugh and Ill cry and Ill sing
Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine
Ill taste your strawberries, Ill drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today
Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine
Ill taste your strawberries, Ill drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today
Words and music by randy sparks
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Distant Spring
I who love the Spring so well
Shall be sleeping, some glad day,
When her hosts come back to dwell
In their old, familiar way.
I shall live, alas! no more
In some distant April hour,
When the Spring finds wide her door,
Calling leaf, and bloom, and flower.
I shall sleep--but I shall dream
In my home beneath the ground,
And my slumbering heart shall teem
With its visions deep, profound.
I shall know, ere you will guess
(Though with life I have no part),
What new golden loveliness
Stirs within the old earth's heart.
I shall hear the first soft sound
When the Spring is born anew,
And rejoice, beneath the ground,
At the bliss to come to you.
And the dreams that I shall dream,
In that Spring when I am dead,
May arise until they seem
Blossoms white and blossoms red!
poem by Charles Hanson Towne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothing can compare with the beauty of spring
Nothing can compare with the beauty of spring,
with branches filled with blossoms
in clusters of pink, yellow and white
and every day has a bright sunny look
and everything is pure and lustrous
with fragrant cups that are opening, everywhere it lives
with new energy, as if everything is filled with joy
in the branches birds sing a tribute
bees and butterflies caper,
the sky is open and sapphire blue,
birds fly up and down
and my heart is overflowing
from every loving glance from you,
is knocking stormy almost out of control.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From April
These days are from April
When spring is coming in
With the dreams of the hill
In green blossoms to win
Hours grow their backyard
From daybreaks rising deep
And from the dim are barred
With blossoms true to keep
Each secret lane of sorrow
Is now in muttered stain
And here is now tomorrow
With their stone and grain
These summer days of April
The song of growing hills
In dreams of silence still
And each new coming thrill
When day and night together
Are like one in each one
In beautiful spring weather
Until those dreams are gone
poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Joyous Spring Colors
Spring always starts with a little yellow
As dandelions pop out their heads
Then we see daffodils’ smiling faces
They don’t even need flower beds
We enjoy blossoms along the streets
Some are pink and some are white
After a long dreary winter, folks
They are such a welcome sight
Azaleas and Rhododendrons galore
Burst forth with many colors
Every size you can imagine as well
And flourish like no others
Let’s not forget the Hydrangea
Dressed in blue, pink or white
Huge balls of blossoms they are
And just fills us with delight
I would enjoy them all year long
If only I had my druthers
But since I don’t have a choice
I treasure joyous spring colors!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Almond Blossoms of Chao Village
For fifteen long years,
Times without number
I have come
To see the red almond-blossoms
Open in the spring.
Now I am growing old—
I am all of seventy-three,
And it is hard for my old legs
To come thus far.
I fear that this time
Is the last,
And I have come
To bid the red blossoms of the almond
A long farewell.
Spring
I walk and wonder
To hear the birds sing,
Without you my lady
How can there be Spring?
I see the pink blossoms
That slept for a year;
But who could have woke them,
While you were not near?
Birds sing to the blossoms;
Blind, dreaming your pink,
These blush to the songsters,
Your music they think.
So well had you taught them,
To look and to sing;
Your bloom and your music;
The ways of the Spring.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Springtime Love # 2
Cold winds of winter
have blown far away-
Springtime is now time
and love is today.
Springtime is our time
when mating birds sing-
Our time is love time
and love time is spring
Springtime-
Once in a lifetime
spring comes,
blossoms and then
springtime
moves on forever.
No second spring again.
Kisses and blossoms
and sweet birds of May,
they're to remember
when spring slips away.
poem by Daniel Artemas Harmon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Joy Of Spring
A Spring morning
A warm Breeze
doves cooing softly
Pollen dusted trees
A few brave violets
A red streaked dawn
A very early robin
Earthworms in the lawn
Spring peeper frogs
Smell of dogwood blossoms
Nature’s petroglyphs in muddy bogs
Footprints left by possums
Easter eggs and bonnets
Chocolate rabbits, Missing ears
Jelly beans and sonnets
Spilled easter baskets, children’s tears
Parades,
leafy bowers
Lemonades
Spring showers
Spring mornings
Warm breezes
Deep breaths
Allergic sneezes
Smell of Fresh blossoms
Sound of birds as they sing
Joy of life.. joy of being…
…Joy of Spring
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring
Spring appears with yellow mango blossoms everywhere;
Bay-leaf trees with tiny silvery blossoms bear.
Cuckoos melody from mango groves reverberates in the sky;
Poets become enthused with peace and inspiration high.
Tiny birds twittering in the sky fill the poet’s minds with ease;
Green leaves dance with the mild vernal breeze.
Fragrant yellow blossoms invite the bees for a kiss;
For these honey-seekers, its nature given bliss.
Sun rays falling on earth make it alluringly rosy;
The rays make the earth-dwellers warm and cosy.
The wavy streams flow down with a melodious muttering;
The green forest all around is most enchanting.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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