The crescent, tiny as the curtain hook;
The fan, woven on the Han loom, is round.
The slender image, its nature, to gain fullness–
Where else on earth is this seen?
translated by Eric W. Johnson
Month: September 2014
In Praise of Huaching Palace by Tu Ch’ang
A journey of countless stages from the Southland ends
with the pale moon and dawn clouds of Huaching
and the West Wind rushing past Sunrise Pavilion
entering the tall willows it sounds like rain
translated by Red Pine
Autumn Spring by Hsüeh T’ao
The cold hue newly clears, a belt of haze;
The mysterious sound gurgles afar, the ten-stringed lute.
Endlessly to my pillow they come, to draw thoughts of love,
Not letting this pensive soul half the night to sleep.
translated by Eric W. Johnson
In a Dream by Lu Yu
The shadows of the t’ung tree, glistening and clear,
having just passed,
Bells under the eaves tinkle in the wind,
breaking off my daytime sleep.
In a dream I found myself in a painted hall with no one around,
And only a pair of swallows softly threading zither strings.
translated by Irving Y. Lo
Spring Rain by Sowol Kim
Caught in a sudden shower, spring sobs,
while flowers fall everywhere–
even in my heart.
Watch, as the clouds drift high over the budding branches
until dusk descends with nightfall.
The sweet, sad rain falls endlessly
as do my tears on the carpet of flowers.
translated by Jaihiun Kim & Ronald B. Hatch
Two People by Sowol KIm
Flake after flake
fleecy snow falls
carpeting the mountain pass.
Straw-sandaled, with leggings fastened,
a knap-sack on my back,
I start on my way, then turn around
to catch sight of her form, almost
erased.
translated by Jaihiun Kim & Ronald B. Hatch
from Recollections of West Lake: Lyric 6 by Ou-yang Hsiu
a whole life of saying, West Lake’s good.
now I come, in my official carriage
wealth and honor
. . . . . . . .floating clouds
look up, look down, the rushing years
twenty.
I come back, old white head, ancient crane
the people of the city and the suburbs
all strange, all new
who’d recognize the old coot, their master, on another day?
translated by Jerome P. Seaton
from Reflections of West Lake: Lyric 4 by Ou-yang Hsiu
flocks of blossoms gone, yet West Lake’s good.
shattered scattered residue of red
as willow down comes misting down
the willow hangs across the wind the whole day through
the pipe song wanders off, the traveler goes
and spring spring’s emptied to my heart
I let the thin gauze curtain fall
fine rain, a mated pair of swallows, coming home
translated by Jerome P. Seaton
from Recollections of West Lake: Lyric 3 by Ou-yang Hsiu
painted skiff with a load of wine, and West Lake’s good.
lively music from pipes and strings
wine cups quickly passed along
secure afloat on calming waves
slip off
to drunken stupor
the clouds float on beneath the moving boat
sky and the water, pure and fresh
look up, look down, stay, or go on
seems there’s another heaven
in this Lake
translated by Jerome P. Seaton
Autumn by Su Tung P’o
The water lilies of summer are gone. They are no more.
Nothing remains but their umbrella leaves.
The chrysanthemums of Autumn are fading.
Their leaves are white with frost.
The beauty of the year is only a solemn memory.
Soon it will be winter and
Oranges turn gold and the citrons green.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
Leonard Durso 