DREAMING OF LI BAI

In the boat at Three Gorges

I wake from dreaming you,

the monkeys’ cries gone

a thousand years, now only

the wind that follows you,

its chants of praise

opening my ears,

my eyes.

Roused, I see

as you did

clouds over Baidicheng.

The current sweeps as always

by the banks

unto the sea.

You never pull ashore

but round each cliff face,

big rocks sliding past,

one curtain of mountains

opening to the next.

The boat grounds on a pebbled shoal

amid unending eddies.

You step off,

vanishing

into these echoes, this spray.

Through the hull

audible time,

clear river water.