Part 2

NOW I HAVE FOUND THIS PEACEFUL LONELINESS, I HAVE RESOLVED TO COME HERE ONLY WITH MYSELF. [_Po Chu-i_]

THE AUTUMN WIND

THE WIND BLOWS, THE WHITE CLOUDS RUN, THE GRASS PALES, THE TREES FALL BARE, THE GEESE FLY SOUTH. BUT THE ORCHIDS BLOOM, CHRYSANTHEMUMS GIVE THEIR SCENT. I THINK OF MY LOVELY GIRL. I MUST LEAVE HER, BUT I CAN NOT FORGET.

I AM ROWED ACROSS THE RIVER ON MY PLEASURE BARGE, ACROSS THE RIVER WITH WHITE WAVES RISING. FLUTE AND DRUM AND ROWERS’ SONG GO WITH ME. NOW THE FEASTING, NOW THE DANCING ... BUT STILL MY HEART IS SAD AND WILL NOT DANCE.

HOW FEW OUR YEARS OF GOLDEN YOUTH! HOW CERTAIN OUR GRAY YEARS OF AGE! [_Emperor Wu-ti_]

THE END OF ALL

CLEAN THE OCTOBER WIND. CLEAR THE OCTOBER MOON. HEAPED BROWN LEAVES ARE BLOWING ... A BLACK RAVEN FLIES FROM ITS ICY ROOST.

I DREAM OF YOU. WILL EVER I SEE YOU AGAIN? AH, NIGHT OF SORROWING HEART! [_Li Po_]

WAITING ON THE TOWER

HERE THE MOON FLOATS BRIGHT OVER HEAVEN’S MOUNTAIN; IT SAILS ON A WHITE-CLOUD OCEAN. FIVE THOUSAND MILES AWAY A SHRILL WIND’S SCREAMING ... AND COLD IS WHISTLING FROM YU-MEN PASS.

THE EMPEROR’S SOLDIERS MARCH DOWN WHITE MOUND ROAD. TARTARS SEARCH THE INLETS OF THE BLUE SEA. SOLDIERS MAY TURN THEIR HEADS, THINKING OF HOME, BUT AT HOME WE NEVER SEE A RETURNING SOLDIER.

SHE IS STANDING ON THE WATCH-TOWER AGAIN TONIGHT. SORROW AND SADNESS WITHOUT END ... IS ALL. [_Li Po_]

THE WOMEN OF PA

UP HERE AT PA, THE RIVER SHOOTS LIKE FLYING ARROWS. LET A BOAT BE CAUGHT AND IT’S SWEPT OFF A THOUSAND MILES BEFORE THE CURRENT QUIETS DOWN.

O YOU WOMEN OF PA! HOW LUCKY FOR US YOUR HUSBANDS MUST POLE UP THIS MIGHTY RIVER TO GET HOME! [_Li Po_]

THE UNREWARDED POET

HERE SIT I ON A HARD WOOD BOX, STENCILED BLACK WITH THE NAME OF A SELLER OF SUGAR. THIS TABLE IS SO DIRTY ... EVEN IF I HAD FOOD, I COULD NOT EAT IT HERE.

THEN HOW CAN I WRITE OF WINE SPRINKLED WITH VIOLETS, SO YOU MAY DRINK WITH DELIGHT? HOW CAN I PROMISE: I WILL DECORATE YOUR BLUE DRESS WITH GLITTERING EMERALD JEWELS? HOW CAN I OFFER YOU A PERFECT PEAR OF GOLDEN AMBER? OR POUR PERFUMES IN A CARVED BOWL OF ROSY QUARTZ, SO YOU MAY DIP IN IT THE POINTED TIPS OF THOSE BELOVÈD PALE FINGERS? [_J. Wing_]

TO HIS DEAD LOVER

THE SWISHING SOUND OF SILK IS STILL. THE DUST GATHERS ON MARBLE FLOORS. THE ROOM IS HOLLOW, COLD AND SILENT. LEAVES HAVE DRIFTED AGAINST THE DOORS.

LONGING FOR THAT LOST SWEET GIRL, I WONDER HOW TO LULL MY ACHING HEART TO REST. [_Li Fu-jen_]

TO THE HERMIT CHENG

I HEAR YOU HAVE COME HERE TO LIVE FOR GOOD ... HERE BY THE LONELY GATE, AMONG THE BURIAL MOUNDS, ENCLOSED BY TALL BAMBOO GROVES.

I HAVE COME NOW TO ASK A FAVOR: WILL YOU LEND ME YOUR OLD GARDEN, TO USE FOR LOOKING AT THE HILL? [_Po Chu-i_]

NON-BEING

JOIN THE SPOKES TOGETHER TO MAKE A WHEEL. A WHEEL IS FULL OF OPENNESS ... NON-BEING. BUT IT IS NECESSARY.

SPIN WET CLAY TO SHAPE A COOKING-POT. A COOKING-POT IS EMPTY ... FULL OF NON-BEING. BUT IT IS NECESSARY.

WORK A SAW TO CUT OUT DOOR AND WINDOWS. DOOR AND WINDOWS ARE HOLES ... NON-BEING. BUT THEY ARE NECESSARY.

TO HAVE BEING IS GOOD. BUT ALSO IT IS NECESSARY TO HAVE NON-BEING ... NOTHINGNESS. [_The Way of Virtue_]

ETERNITY

THE HEAVEN ENDURES FOREVER AND THE EARTH IS ETERNAL. WHY ARE HEAVEN AND EARTH ENDURING AND ETERNAL? BECAUSE THEY DO NOT LIVE FOR THEMSELVES ... THEREFORE THEY CAN LIVE FOREVER.

THE WISE MAN DESIRES TO BE FORGOTTEN, BUT HE IS REMEMBERED. HE DESIRES TO BE FREE OF LIFE, BUT HE RETAINS IT. HE DESIRES NOTHING FOR HIMSELF, BUT HE FINDS EVERYTHING HE WANTS. [_The Way of Virtue_]

THE WAY OF THE WAY

IF YOU FOLLOW THE WAY, YOU MAY TRAVEL ALL OVER THE EMPIRE WITHOUT HARM. YOU WILL FIND PEACE AND YOU WILL FIND QUIETNESS.

PERHAPS YOU WILL PAUSE FOR MUSIC AND STRANGE FOODS ... NO HARM TO ENJOY THEM.

BUT THE WAY ITSELF HAS NO FLAVOR, THE WAY ITSELF HAS NO SOUND, THE WAY ITSELF CANNOT BE SEEN ... BUT USE IT: IT IS NEVER ENDING. [_The Way of Virtue_]

AWAY WITH PHILOSOPHERS

AWAY WITH PHILOSOPHERS, AWAY WITH SAGES. PEOPLE WILL BE A HUNDREDFOLD WISER.... AWAY WITH CHARITY, AWAY WITH VIRTUE. PEOPLE WILL RETURN TO GOODNESS AND KINDNESS.... AWAY WITH PROFITS, AWAY WITH SKILLS. PEOPLE WILL BE FREE OF ROBBERS AND THIEVES.

IF THESE THREE REFORMS ARE NOT ENOUGH, THEN LET ALL MEN SIMPLY GAZE ON PLAINNESS, CHERISH UNCARVED BLOCKS OF STONE, FORGO THE “I,” AND FREE THEMSELVES FROM ALL DESIRE. [_The Way of Virtue_]

NOT IN REPAYMENT

HE GAVE ME A QUINCE. THEN I GAVE HIM A CARVED JADE ... NOT TO PAY HIM BACK, BUT TO MAKE OUR LOVE LONG-LASTING.

HE GAVE ME A PEACH. THEN I GAVE HIM AN EMERALD ... NOT TO PAY HIM BACK, BUT TO MAKE OUR LOVE LONG-LASTING.

HE GAVE ME A PLUM. THEN I GAVE HIM A BLACK JADE ... NOT TO PAY HIM BACK, BUT TO MAKE OUR LOVE LONG-LASTING. [_The Book of Songs_]

WAITING FOR YOU

OVER THE PASS OF THE WESTERN MOUNTAINS TRAVELS THE EVENING SUN; THE HILL-FOLDS GATHER THEIR DEEP DARK; THE MOON LIGHTS UP COLD IN ITS TWISTED PINE-BRANCH; THE LITTLE BROOK SINGS COLD, AND THE COLD WIND SIGHS; THE WOOD CUTTERS ALL HAVE CARRIED THEIR BUNDLES HOME; THE WHEELING BIRDS ARE SETTLED IN THEIR TREES.

THE HOUR IS PAST THAT YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD COME. MY LUTE IS STILL ... LEANING AMONG THE VINES, WAITING IN THE COLD GLEN AMONG THE VINES. [_Mêng Hai jan_]

DRAGON OF THE SHORELESS SEA

OH DRAGON, RULER OF THE SHORELESS SEA OF DEATH, CARRY AWAY MY BELOVÈD, WHILE, LEANING OVER HER WITH PASSION, I DRINK IN HER PERFUMED BREATH.

CARRY HER AWAY IN YOUR SHIP OF GHOSTS, AND CARRY ME AWAY WITH HER ... THAT WE MAY FLOAT FOREVER TOGETHER ON THAT SEA, DRUNKEN WITH LOVE. [_Li Hung-chang_]

THE WIND-TORN ROOF

IN THE EIGHTH-MOON OF AUTUMN, WITH A VICIOUS HOWLING, WIND TORE THREE LAYERS OF THATCH FROM MY POOR ROOF.

FLYING OVER THE RIVER THE THATCH RAINED ON THE EMBANKMENT, TANGLED IN THE TREES, WHIRLED AFAR TO SINK AND SETTLE IN THE MARSHES.

A SWARM OF BOYS FROM THE VILLAGE LAUGHED AT ME BECAUSE I AM FEEBLE. O INSOLENCE! STEALING MY THATCH AND CARRYING IT OFF TO PLAY WITH IN THE BAMBOO GROVE! I SCREAMED AT THEM WITH A DRY TONGUE ... BUT THEY LAUGHED AT ME AND I CAME HOME SIGHING.

THEN THE WIND STOPPED, THE CLOUDS TURNED DARK, AND NIGHT CAME ON LIKE INK. MY OLD COTTON QUILT WAS COLD AS IRON ... MY SWEET SON TOSSED IN HIS SLEEP, BARE FEET STICKING THROUGH THE BLANKET ... RAIN CAME THROUGH THE ROOF TILL THERE WAS NOT A DRY INCH IN BED.

LIKE STRINGS OF WAX THE RAIN HUNG DOWN ... ALL THESE DISASTERS OF WAR HANG DOWN AND KEEP US FROM PEACEFUL REST.

I DREAM OF A GREAT HOUSE WITH TEN THOUSAND ROOMS. THERE ALL COLD CREATURES CAN TAKE SHELTER, WITH BRIGHT FACES, OUT OF THE RAIN, OUT OF THE WIND, SAFE IN A HOUSE SOLID AS A MOUNTAIN.

AH, WHEN SHALL I EVER SEE SUCH A HOUSE? COULD I EVER SEE IT ... AH, THOUGH THE WIND TORE DOWN MY HUT ENTIRELY, THOUGH I FROZE TO DEATH IN THE STORM, THEN SHOULD I DIE HAPPY. [_Tu Fu_]

THE STARTLED PLUMS FALL DOWN

THE CLOUDS ARE SOFT, THE WILLOWS DELICATE ... HER HAIR IS FRESHLY DRESSED. SHE PLACES THE FLUTE UPON HER LIPS, AND AS THE SUNSET FADES AND DUSK SETTLES, SHE PLAYS BENEATH THE PALE MOON.

A FRESHLY-OPENED CHERRY BUD ... HER LIPS UPON THE FLUTE. SHE LEANS IN THE CORNER OF THE BALCONY: THE NIGHT IS CHILL, HER SILKEN ROBES ARE THIN, HER FINGERS COLD ... BUT MUSIC FLOATS THROUGH FROSTY WOODS AND STARTLED PLUMS FALL PATTERING DOWN. [_Chang Hsien_]

WEEP NOT, YOUNG WOMEN

IT IS ALWAYS SAD AUTUMN WHEN OUR ENEMIES SWEEP DOWN THEIR RAIDERS FROM THE MOUNTAINS TO INVADE US.

THE TRUMPETS SUMMON THE WARRIORS! THEY WILL RIDE ON TILL THEY COME TO THE GREAT WALL. THEN THEY WILL RIDE BEYOND IT, OUT ON THE GREAT KOBI DESERT.

THERE, ONLY THE COLD BARE MOON. ONLY COLD BEADS OF DEW ON SWORDS AND SHIELDS. HOW THEY SHIVER.

WEEP NOT, YOUNG WOMEN ... THIS IS NO TIME TO START YOUR WEEPING. WHO KNOWS HOW LONG THAT YOU MUST WEEP? [_Li Po_]

BEFORE AND AFTER

LOOKING BACKWARD ... I CANNOT SEE THE ANCIENTS OF DAYS. LOOKING FORWARD ... I CANNOT SEE AGES YET TO COME. ONLY HEAVEN AND EARTH HAVE REMAINED, AND WILL REMAIN FOREVER ... I AM ALONE, I GRIEVE, I DROP TEARS INTO THE DUST. [_Chen Tzu-ang_]

WHY BE JEALOUS?

MY LITTLE BOAT IS MADE OF EBONY; MY FLUTE-STOPS ARE PURE GOLD. WATER LOOSENS STAINS FROM SILK ... WINE LOOSENS SADNESS FROM THE HEART.

WITH GOOD WINE, A GRACEFUL BOAT, AND A SWEET GIRL’S LOVE ... WHY BE JEALOUS OF MERE GODS? [_Li Po_]

A LADY FROM AFAR

THAT NIGHT ... A NIGHT IN EARLY AUTUMN ... WE SAILED TO THE ISLE OF PARROTS. THERE WE GAZED AT THE ROUND MOON, AND LISTENED TO THE WINDY PINES.

SUDDENLY WE HEARD MUSIC ... A SAD SONG COMING ON THE WIND. THERE WAS A SINGER IN A BOAT.

AS IT DREW NEAR US WE SAW A WOMAN, WHITE AS SNOW, SINGING AND CRYING TOO, LEANING ON THE MAST. MY COMPANIONS ASKED HER WHY SHE WEPT?... WITHOUT AN ANSWER SHE LOWERED HER HEAD, VEILING HER WHITE FACE IN HER GOLDEN HAIR. [_Pe Kin-yi_]

TO THE DANCING-GIRL SIAO-LING

YOU CALLED FOR POEMS ABOUT TWILIGHT. EACH TWILIGHT NOW BRINGS MEMORIES OF THE SOFT BLUE DRESS YOU WORE ... THAT DAY IN THE PALACE WHEN YOU READ AND JUDGED THEM.

IF MINE WAS JUDGED THE BEST ... YOU SEE, THERE WAS A VISION OF YOU, A VISION IN BLUE VEILS, IN THE BLUE DAWN WHEN I COULD NOT SLEEP. SO I GOT UP FROM BED AND WROTE THE POEM FOR YOU ...

BUT YOU SLEPT ON UNKNOWING IN THAT EARLY DAWN. YOU DID NOT PEEP OUT FROM THE JADE FLOWER PAVILION TO SEE ROSES BLOOMING IN THE SKY ABOVE THE PALACE. IN THAT SAME PALACE ONCE, FOR LOVE OF HER, WOU-TI MADE EMPRESS A LOVELY DANCING-GIRL LIKE YOU. [_Tsiang-Tien_]

THE GARDEN THAT DOES NOT FADE

THESE FLOWERS OF JADE IN THEIR LITTLE BOX ... MAY YOUR NOBLE THOUGHTS, LIKE THESE FLOWERS, BE ALWAYS INDESTRUCTIBLE AND LOVINGLY ARRANGED. [_Emperor Chien Lung_]

PEASANT SONG

WHEN THE SUN RISES, WE GET UP TO WORK. WHEN THE SUN SETS, WE LIE DOWN TO SLEEP. FOR OUR WATER WE DIG OUR WELLS, FOR OUR FOOD WE HOE OUR FIELDS. O THE EMPEROR MAY BE GREAT AND POWERFUL, BUT WHAT IS THAT TO US? [_Anonymous_]

THE POET DREAMS

NOW SAD RAINS ARE FALLING. LET US SAY NOW: THE SKY WEEPS BECAUSE FINE WEATHER IS ALL GONE. BOREDOM PILES UP LIKE HEAVY RAIN-CLOUDS: WHERE IS OUR GAIETY AND WIT? LET US SIT INDOORS.

NOW IS THE TIME FOR POETRY THAT REMEMBERS SUMMER. LET IT BE PUT DOWN GENTLY ON WHITE PAPER, LIKE FULL-BLOWN PETALS FALLING FROM EXQUISITE TREES. AND LET MY LIPS DRINK FROM THIS CUP OF SUMMER WINE EACH TIME MY BRUSH IS DIPPED INTO THE INK. THUS WILL I KEEP MY FANCY FROM FLOATING OFF LIKE CLOUDS OR SMOKE: TIME PAST ESCAPES FROM US QUICKER THAN A FLIGHT OF BIRDS. [_Tu Fu_]

LAUGHTER IN THE THICKET

THE GAY AND GALLANT YOUTH ... HIS PALACE IS ON THE ROAD OF IMPERIAL TOMBS NEAR THE GOLDEN BAZAAR ... SETS OUT INTO THE SWEET SPRING BREEZE.

HIS TALL WHITE CHARGER, SADDLED WITH SILVER, PRANCES GRACEFULLY IN RHYTHMIC STEPS. BENEATH HIM IS A WHIRLWIND OF PETALS AS HE RIDES THROUGH THE CARPET OF FALLEN BLOSSOMS.

THE YOUTH REINS IN THE CHARGER, PERPLEXED.... A LAUGH, SWEET AND MUSICAL, RINGS FROM THE THICKET; NOW HE IS PERPLEXED NO MORE. [_Li Po_]

SEEING YOU OFF

BECAUSE YOU ARE OLD, BECAUSE YOU ARE LEAVING, MY HANDKERCHIEF IS WET WITH TEARS ... BECAUSE YOU ARE SEVENTY YEARS OLD AND HAVE NO HOME.

I AM UNEASY AS THE WIND RISES AND YOUR BOAT SAILS OFF ... WHITE-HEADED TRAVELER AMONG WHITE-HEADED WAVES. [_Po Chu-i_]

A LETTER HOME

YOU ASK ME: WHEN WILL I COME HOME? THERE IS NO DATE SETTLED YET. HERE, AT PA-SHAN IN AUTUMN, EVENING RAIN FLOODS THE HOLLOWS.

O FOR THE TIME WHEN WE CAN PUT OUT THE CANDLE TOGETHER BY THE WESTERN WINDOW ... O FOR THE TIME WHEN I CAN TELL YOU HOW I FEEL HERE TONIGHT AT PA-SHAN, WHEN AUTUMN RAIN FLOODS THE HOLLOWS. [_Li-Shang-yin_]

THE POET AND THE FLOOD

ICY WINDS SWEEP DOWN FROM THE MOUNTAINS AND RIP OUT THE TREES. PITILESS, THE FLOOD RISES IN THE RIVER DAY BY DAY. THERE IS NO MOUNTAIN NOW, OR FIELDS ... EVERYTHING IS FOG AND WATER.

ALL THE SAME, MY LATE CHRYSANTHEMUMS ARE IN BLOOM. WHEN YOU ROW PAST, YUNG-HI, SLOW YOUR BOAT IN FRONT OF MY GARDEN AND GAZE AT THEM ... THEIR HOT COLORS WILL RE-WARM YOUR HEART. [_Tu Fu_]

PARTING IN AUTUMN

THE CRICKETS ARE COLD, THEIR SONG IS SAD. OUTSIDE THE PAVILION THE LAST SHOWER-DROPS PATTER DOWN. HOLLOW THE HAPPY FAREWELL PARTY. WE LINGER ... WHILE THE RIVER-BOAT, LOADED WITH SANDALWOOD, IS WAITING FOR ME TO GO ABOARD.

WE STAND HAND IN HAND, WE STAND WITHOUT TALKING, WE STAND WITH TEARS ... TO THINK THAT I MUST TRAVEL A THOUSAND MILES OF MIST AND RAIN AND WATER! THE EVENING CLOUDS ARE GATHERING AGAIN, AND THE SKY WIDENS TO THE SOUTH.

IT IS AN OLD STORY: PARTING FROM A LOVER IS FULL OF PAIN ... AND IT IS ALL THE WORSE IN RAINY AUTUMN. TONIGHT, WHEN I GROW SOBER AFTER ALL THIS WINE, WHERE WILL YOU BE? ON THE WILLOWY SHORE, UNDER THE WANING MOON?

AND I ... ALL THIS YEAR AWAY, SUNSHINE AND LOVELY SIGHTS WILL COME TO ME IN VAIN ... NO ONE ALL THIS YEAR TO TELL A THOUSAND HAPPY THOUGHTS. [_Li Yung_]

THE EMBROIDERY

THE COOL WIND OF EVENING BLOWS BIRD-SONG TO A WINDOW WHERE THE MAIDEN SITS. SHE IS EMBROIDERING FLOWER-PATTERNS ON SILK.

HER HEAD IS RAISED; HER WORK FALLS FROM HER FINGERS; HER THOUGHTS HAVE FLOWN TO SOMEONE FAR AWAY.

“A BIRD CAN EASILY FIND ITS MATE AMONG THE LEAVES, BUT ALL A MAIDEN’S TEARS, FALLING LIKE RAIN FROM HEAVEN, WILL NOT BRING BACK HER DISTANT LOVER.”

SHE BENDS AGAIN TO HER EMBROIDERY: “I WILL WEAVE A LITTLE VERSE AMONG THESE FLOWERS OF HIS ROBE ... PERHAPS HE WILL READ IT AND COME BACK AGAIN.” [_Li Po_]

THE SOUTH WIND

THE SWEET SMELL OF THE SOUTH WIND CAN CALM THE TEMPERS OF MY PEOPLE.

THE SWEET RAIN OF THE SOUTH WIND CAN NOURISH THE GRAIN-FIELDS OF MY PEOPLE. [_Anonymous_]

LET US DRINK WINE

LOOK: DO YOU NOT SEE THE RAIN FALLING AT LAST FROM THE SKY? FALLING INTO THE YELLOW RIVER, FLOWING FAST INTO THE SEA, AND NEVER NEVER RETURNING?

LOOK: DO YOU NOT SEE THE CLEAR MIRROR IN THE HALL, SHOWING OUR HAIR BLACK SILK AT MORNING, FALLEN TO BITTER SNOW BY NIGHT?

YOU WHO HAVE HAD YOUR FILL OF BITTER LIFE, COME DRINK THE DREGS WITH ME! LET THERE BE MOONLIGHT IN OUR EVENING ... LET THE GOLDEN CUPS NEVER STAND EMPTY.

HEAVEN BLESSED ME WITH RICHES AND I MUST SPEND MYSELF. THOUGH I THROW AWAY TEN THOUSAND GOLD COINS AND POEMS, ALWAYS I FIND MORE. SO LET US SLAUGHTER THE SHEEP AND THE OX ... LET US MAKE MERRY AND MERRY ... WHY, I PROMISE TO SWALLOW THREE HUNDRED CUPS THIS SINGLE NIGHT.

COME, FRIEND CH’IN ... COME, MASTER CH’AN ... I OFFER YOU MY WINE: DO NOT REFUSE IT. I OFFER YOU MY SONG: DO NOT IGNORE IT.

THE MEATS AND THE DANCING AND THE MUSIC ARE NOT MY DESIRE ... MY ONLY DESIRE IS TO BE DRUNK FOR EVER AND EVER AND NEVER WAKE AGAIN. SCHOLARS AND SAINTS ARE FORGOTTEN SOON; BUT GREAT DRUNKARDS ARE IMMORTAL.

THEY SAY PRINCE CH’EN AT HIS GREAT PING-YUEH TEMPLE FEAST PAID TEN THOUSAND COINS FOR WINE, SO EVERYONE COULD HAVE ENOUGH. NOW THAT I GIVE THE FEAST ... DARE I LACK MONEY? NO! LET US BUY THE WINE! LET US DRINK TOGETHER! I WILL SEND MY BOY WITH MY FIVE-COLORED HORSE, I WILL SEND MY BOY WITH MY WONDROUS FURS WORTH ALONE TEN THOUSAND COINS ... HE WILL BARTER THEM FOR WINE ... AND WE, WE WILL DROWN THE SORROW OF A THOUSAND GENERATIONS! [_Li Po_]

AT THE RIVER

SHE GATHERS LILY-FLOWERS IN THE SHALLOW RIVER-WATERS ... SINGING AS SHE WADES. NOW A STRANGER DAWDLES ALONG THE BANK. SHE TURNS AROUND TO LOOK AT HIM.

HIDING IN A BUNCH OF LILIES, PRETENDING TO BE EMBARRASSED ... SHE PEEKS OUT TO SMILE. [_Li Po_]

CHRYSANTHEMUMS

I BUILT MY LITTLE HOUSE RIGHT IN THE CITY, BUT I NEVER HEAR HORSE OR CARRIAGE. DO YOU WONDER HOW THIS CAN BE? BECAUSE A SOUL UNATTACHED CREATES ITS OWN SWEET SOLITUDE.

I PICK CHRYSANTHEMUMS UNDER THE HEDGE TO THE EAST, GAZE AT THE MOUNTAIN RISING TO THE SOUTH, BREATHE HIGH WESTERN AIR AT SUNSET, WATCH THE BIRDS FLY NORTH.

THESE THINGS HOLD HIDDEN TRUTHS ... BUT WHEN I TRY TO UNCOVER THEM, WORDS ARE NOT THE WAY. [_Tao Yuan-Ming_]

THE INSTRUMENT

I SET MY STRINGED INSTRUMENT HERE ON THE ELEGANT TABLE ... I SIT HERE ON THE EXQUISITE BENCH. EMOTIONS FLOW INTO ME, MOVE ME, AS I SIT HERE QUIETLY.

WHY SHOULD I PLAY? BREEZES WILL FIND THE INSTRUMENT ... BREEZES WILL FLOW OVER IT AND SWEEP THE STRINGS TO SONG. [_Po Chu-i_]

A DREAM OF YOU

FOR TEN YEARS I HAVE BEEN LIVING AND YOU HAVE BEEN DEAD. EVEN WHEN I DO NOT THINK OF YOU I CANNOT FORGET. YOUR LONELY GRAVE IS A THOUSAND MILES AWAY.... WHERE CAN I GO TO SPEAK MY SADNESS?

EVEN IF WE MET NOW, YOU WOULD NEVER RECOGNIZE ME. MY HAIR IS GOING GRAY AT THE TEMPLES, MY WRINKLED FACE ALWAYS COVERED WITH DUST OF THE ROAD.

IN A DREAM LAST NIGHT I CAME HOME. AT THE OPEN WINDOW OF OUR ROOM YOU SAT COMBING YOUR HAIR. WE STARED AT EACH OTHER WITHOUT A WORD, AND BURST INTO TEARS.... I CHERISH IN MEMORY THAT GLEN OF OUR HEART-BREAKING, THAT STILL MOONLIGHT NIGHT, THAT HILL OF LITTLE PINES. [_Su Shih_]

A SONG OUT THERE

A SONG OUT THERE.... WHY, IT IS A BEGGAR SINGING! IF THIS OLD MAN WHO NEVER HAD A SILVER COIN CAN SING, WHY MUST YOU WITH RICH GOLD MEMORIES SIT HERE AND SIGH? [_Tu Fu_]

THINKING OF HER LOVER

THE FRAGRANCE IS BLOWN FROM THE LOTUS-FLOWERS. THE EMERALD LEAVES ARE WITHERED NOW AND BROWN. THE WEST WIND IS PUFFING SORROWS INTO GREEN RIPPLES ON THE RIVER. EVERYTHING IS DYING, MY YEARS ARE DYING ... I CANNOT BEAR THE SIGHT OF DEATH.

I STARE AT THE SILKEN LINES OF RAIN, WHERE MY DREAMS ARE FLOATING IN THE LOST LANDS OF NEVERMORE. ALONE I BLOW ON MY FLUTE OF JADE, UNTIL MY BALCONY FREEZES WITH THE ICY NOTES. O ENDLESS SORROWS, ENDLESS TEARS, ENDLESS LEANING ON MY EMPTY BALCONY. [_Prince Li Chin_]

AUTUMN MOON

THE JADE STAIRCASE WEEPS WITH DEW. IT WETS HER SILKEN SHOES, AS SHE CLIMBS SLOWLY TO THE PAVILION.

SHE TOO WEEPS. LETTING DOWN A CURTAIN OF CRYSTAL BEADS LIKE A TINKLING WATERFALL, SHE SITS STARING THROUGH IT AT THE AUTUMN MOON. [_Li Po_]

LI-SI DANCING

IN THE IMPERIAL GARDEN BREEZES TOY WITH OPENING LOTUS BLOSSOMS. ON THE TERRACE, LYING ON SILK CUSHIONS SCATTERED THERE, THE KING LIES RESTING.

MORE DELICATE THAN A THIN SCARF OF MIST, BRIGHTER THAN THE EASTERN STAR, LI-SI THE BEAUTY, THE FAVORITE, DANCES FOR THE KING.

ALL TREMULOUS EYELIDS AND TREMBLING LIMBS, SHE CIRCLES AND DROPS BESIDE THE KING ... UNDER THE ROYAL EYE, HER LIDS ARE LOWERED. [_Li Po_]

REFLECTIONS

RAPIDLY TONIGHT MY BOAT FLOATS DOWN THE RIVER UNDER A CLOUD-DAPPLED SKY. I LOOK INTO THE WATER; IT IS AS CLEAR AS THE NIGHT. WHEN CLOUDS FLOAT PAST THE MOON, I SEE THEM FLOATING IN THE RIVER, AND FEEL I AM ROWING IN THE SKY.

I THINK OF MY LOVE ... MIRRORED SO IN MY HEART. [_Tu Fu_]

AT MIDNIGHT

LOOK: MOONLIGHT SHINING ON MY BED. OR IS IT THE WHITE OF FROST?

RAISING MY HEAD, I SEE THE MOON OVER MOUNTAINS. LOWERING IT, I REMEMBER ALL MY DEBTS AND ERRORS. [_Li Po_]

AN ELEGY

LAST, BEST-LOVED DAUGHTER OF OLD HSIEH, YOU WHO FOOLISHLY RAN OFF WITH THAT PENNILESS BOY, WHO MENDED HIS CLOTHES WITH PATCHES FROM YOUR OLD CLOTHES BROUGHT FROM HOME ... AND I TEASED YOU FOR YOUR GOLD HAIRPINS, SO WE COULD TRADE FOR WINE, AND WE DRANK IT WITH OUR DINNERS OF BERRIES AND HERBS PICKED CHEAP IN THE FIELD, COOKED OVER DRY LEAVES FROM THE FIELD ... NOW, WHEN THEY PAY ME WELL, ALL I CAN GIVE BACK TO YOU IS TEMPLE OFFERINGS.

LONG LONG AGO WE COULD LAUGH AT DYING, BUT DEATH A MAGICIAN CLOSED YOU IN HIS HAND AND OPENED IT SUDDENLY EMPTY. I HAVE LOCKED YOUR NEEDLEWORK AWAY, I HAVE GIVEN YOUR CLOTHES AWAY ... MY EYES ARE NOT STRONG ENOUGH. I AM GENTLE, BECAUSE YOU WERE, TO OUR SERVING-MAIDS AND MEN. SOMETIMES WHEN I DREAM I DREAM I SHOWER YOU WITH GIFTS. ALL OF US MUST KNOW SUCH SORROW ... TO KNOW IT BEST YOU MUST FIRST BE POOR AND HAPPY TOGETHER.

HERE I SIT ALONE, HERE I SIGH FOR BOTH OF US. HOW MANY BEADS MUST I STILL COUNT UPON MY STRING OF TIME? BETTER MEN THAN I HAVE GROWN OLD WITHOUT A SON ... A BETTER POET SANG TO HIS DEAD WIFE WHO COULD NOT HEAR.

WE NEVER SAID THAT WE WOULD MEET AGAIN IN DEATH. I HAVE NO HOPE BEYOND THE DARKNESS. ALL I HAVE, IS TO STARE INTO THE NIGHT, SEEING AGAIN AND AGAIN THAT LITTLE WORRIED WRINKLE IN YOUR BROW. [_Yuan Chen_]

Transcriber’s Notes

--Copyright notice provided as in the original—these anonymous translations are public domain in the country of publication.

--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged.

--Only in the text versions, delimited italicized text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)