Fifth September Selection

September 1st

Walking up
to your home.
The wet grass
stains my pants.
Smoke rises from
your chimney
and I am already
worn out.
Resting against
a valley oak.
Fall is passing.
The thought
of our friendship
keeps me going.
It's 6 a.m.
Drinking grappa
for breakfast.
Our conversation
bright as crystal.

--TuFu, retranslated by Brian Howlett