We came of age, and were made man and wife.
Seventeen years have gone by since then.
I still have not tired of gazing at her face
but now she has left me forever.
My hair has nearly turned white,
Can this body hold out much longer?
When the end comes I’ll join her in the grave;
until my death, the tears flow on and on.
translated by Jonathan Chaves
Month: January 2024
Untitled Poem by Shih Te
I laugh at my failing strength in old age,
Yet still dote on pines and crags, to wander there in solitude.
How I regret that in all these past years until today,
I’ve let things run their course like an unanchored boat.
translated by James M. Hargett
from Tune: “Immortal at the River” by Su Tung-p’o
I long regret I can’t master my own body,
Much less come to terms with worldly problems.
Night advances, quiet breeze quivers on ripples.
How I wish to sail away in my little skiff
And high on the waters, live out the rest of my life.
translated by Michael E. Workman
Reading by the Window by Yang Wan-li
I idly open a book of T’ang poems
and find a petal of peach blossom, still fresh.
I remember taking the book with me
to read among the flowers
and realize that another year has passed.
translated by Jonathan Chaves
from Sick and Restless at Night: I Get Up and Walk in the Moonlight by Yang Wan-li
I don’t ask to be one of the three ministers;
there’s enough to eat—who needs a lot of money?
I just want to lead a happy life
enjoying the moon and the wind.
translated by Jonathan Chaves
from Drinking Wine by Su Tung-p’o
Master T’ao, I can’t compete with you!
Forever snarled up in official business,
what can I do to break away,
live just once a life like yours?
Thorns grow in the field of the mind;
clear them and there’s no finer place.
Free the mind—let it move with the world
and doubt nothing it finds there!
In wine I stumbled on unexpected joy.
Now I always have an empty cup in hand.
translated by Burton Watson
On the Yangtze Watching the Hills by Su Tung-p’o
From the boat watching hills—swift horses:
a hundred herds race by in a flash.
Ragged peaks before us suddenly change shape,
ranges behind us start and rush away.
I look up: a narrow road angles back and forth,
a man walking it, high in the distance.
I wave from the deck, trying to call,
but the sail takes us south like a soaring bird.
translated by Burton Watson
On a Portrait of Myself by Yang Wan-li
The pure wind makes me chant poems.
The bright moon urges me to drink.
Intoxicated, I fall among the flowers,
heaven my blanket, earth my pillow.
translated by Jonathan Chaves
Evening View from a Boat by Yang Wan-li
We sail past a pine-tree forest on the river bank.
A man is walking where the trees end.
A mountain moves in front of the man, blocking our view.
The blue flag of a wine shop flutters in the wind.
translated by Jonathan Chaves
Listening to Rain by Yang Wan-li
A year ago my boat, homeward bound,
moored at Yen-ling—
I was kept awake all night by the rain
beating against the sails.
Last night the rain fell on the thatched roof
of my house.
I dreamed of the sound of rain
beating against the sails.
translated by Jonathan Chaves
Leonard Durso 