For him “To be or not to be”
Wasn’t a question at all.
One night he slept
And never woke up.
He was taken, carried away,
Washed, prayed for, and buried.
If his creditors hear of his death
They’re sure to give up any claims.
And when his credit comes in . . .
Well, no one owned the deceased a thing.
translated by George Messo
Month: November 2023
Cassia Flowers: To A New Version of “The Silk Washing Brook” by Li Ch’ing-chao
The twisted limbs break
Into ten thousand flecks of gold,
On layer upon layer of carved jade leaves,
Fresh and bright as the grace of Yen Fu.
The heaps of plum petals seem vulgar.
The lilacs seem coarse and contorted.
Your perfume has broken into
My sorrowful dream of the one
A thousand miles away,
And left me drained of emotion.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth & Ling Chung
from An Answer to Ting Yuan Ch’en by Ou Yang Hsiu
All night you can hear
The sad cries of the wild geese.
They make me think of my old home.
I have been sick since the new year.
The sight of flowers might cheer me
Up. I am no longer your guest,
Among the flowers at Lo Yang,
But even the wild flowers,
If they would only come would be
Enough to make me happier.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
A Song of Departure: To the Tune “Butterflies Love Flowers” by Li Ch’ing-chao
Wet rain and soft breeze by turns
Have just broken
And driven away the chill.
Moist as pussy willows,
Light as the plum blossoms,
Already I feel the heart of Spring vibrating.
But now who will share with me
The joys of wine and poetry?
Tears streak my rouge.
My hairpins are too heavy.
I put on my new quilted robe
Sewn with gold thread
And throw myself against a pile of pillows,
Crushing my phoenix hairpins.
Alone, all I can embrace is my endless sorrow.
I know a good dream will never come.
So I stay up past midnight
Trimming the lamp flower’s smoking wick.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth & Ling Chung
Leaning on a Cane by Tu Fu
Even in the city, come leaning on a cane,
I gaze at stream-side blossoms. Here
Mountain markets close early, and riverboats
Gather at the bridge in spring. Lighthearted
Gulls flutter among white waves. Returning
Geese delight in blue skies. All things shade
Together in earth’s passion. But I, all
Disparate chill, I brood over years gone by.
translated by David Hinton
Drinking in the Mountains with a Recluse by Li Po
Drinking together among mountain blossoms, we
down a cup, another, and yet another. Soon drunk,
I fall asleep, and you wander off. Tomorrow morning,
if you think of it, grab your ch’in and come again.
translated by David Hinton
Farewell at Fang Kuan’s Grave by Tu Fu
Traveling again in some distant place, I
Pause here to offer your lonely grave
Farewell. By now, tears haven’t left dry
Earth anywhere. Clouds drift low in empty
Sky, broken. Hsieh An’s old go partner,
Sword in hand, I come in search of Hsü,
But find only forest blossoms falling and
Oriole songs sending a passerby on his way.
translated by David Hinton
Ching-t’ing Mountain, Sitting Alone by Li Po
The birds have all vaniahed into deep
skies. The last cloud drifts away, aimless.
Inexhaustible, Ching-t’ing Mountain and I
gaze at each other, it alone remaining.
translated by David Hinton
Facing the End by Li Pai (Li Bei, Li Po)
Soaring above the world’s horizon
the Peng’s strength failed halfway to heaven
I had enough wind for ten thousand generations
but my robe caught on the Sunrise Tree
I leave it behind for whoever finds it
Confucius is dead who’ll cry for me
translated by Red Pine
6pm, Moda: this dreamy languor
I grow drowsy
as light
leaves the sky
this chair beckons
these old bones
to rest
the whiskey helps
to bring on
this dreamy languor
a friend at last
to ease memory out
and sleep at last
in
Leonard Durso 