This is my third Cold Food Festival
since I was exiled to Huang-chou.
Each parting spring, each year, I grieve.
Nevertheless, each passes–no regret.
This year there’s pestilential rain,
the past two months dark as autumn.
I lie still, listening to cherry blossoms fall
into snow, pink and growing muddy.
Of what steals things in the dark,
the strangest arrives at midnight:
as though a young man went to bed
only to wake and find his hair turned white.
translated by Sam Hamill
gazing at a picture
taken years ago
you dancing in apron
a holiday meal
among family
many of whom
are gone like you
it’s hard
holding back tears
knowing never to see
you dancing again
or singing off-key
those Italian songs
echoing in a house
no longer mine
Living in obscurity I’ve given up current affairs
I bow my head in silence and reflect on the sage kings
the highs and lows of the ancient past
the ups and downs of countless paths
I laugh to myself when I’m pleased
when I’m sad I simply sigh
I take my books from their cases
I go through from front to back
despite the affliction of tropical diseases
I feel different than in the past
while reading I suddenly understand
when I’m done my mind is a blank
who can I talk with at night
if not these texts on bamboo and silk
I lie down when I get tired
after a good sleep I feel refreshed
I yawn and stretch my limbs
I read out loud to my heart’s content
I enjoy doing what suits me
not to please learned men
I shut up when I’ve said what I want
free of restraints I relax
the clever consider me stupid
the wise think I’m a fool
but reading has managed to make me happy
what good is working till you drop
cherish this body of yours
don’t use it to chase after fame
translated by Red Pine
Morning rain dampens the dust in Weicheng
new willow branches have turned the inn green
drink one more cup of wine my friend
west of Yang Pass there’s no one you know
translated by Red Pine
A lone pine shaded a rest stop with green
putting down roots beside a dirt road
it didn’t need to guard against the heights
it was injured for the sake of more light
luckily a kindhearted person came along
surrounding it with a fence
part of its heart survived
enough to feel the rain and dew
translated by Red Pine
Last night I dreamt I went home
and saw my wife at her loom
she stopped the shuttle as if in thought
then raised it as if without strength
I called and she turned to look
she looked but didn’t know me
I guess we’d been apart too many years
and my temples weren’t their old color
translated by Red Pine
Painted beams aren’t for me
the forest is my home
a lifetime suddenly passes by
don’t think your cares will wait
those who build no raft to cross
drown while gathering flowers
unless you plant good roots today
you’ll never see a bud
translated by Red Pine
When will the treadmill of life and death stop
each rebirth gets more confusing
until we discover the jewel of our mind
we’re like blind mules following our feet
translated by Red Pine
a young girl dances
on the street
twirl twirling
the mutli-colored scarf
on her head
matching the smile
on her upturned face
Men these days search for a way through the clouds,
But the cloud way is dark and without sign.
The mountains are high and often steep and rocky;
In the broadest valleys the sun seldom shines.
Green crests before you and behind,
White clouds to east and west–
Do you want to know where the cloud way lies?
There it is, in the midst of the Void!
translated by Burton Watson
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