To the Melody A Blooming Plum by Li Qingzhao

The Fragrant red lotuses have Withered away,
My jade-like mat turns cool on autumn day
Lightly putting off my skirt or silky coat,
Alone I boarded the pretty boat
Looking back, the wild geese fly
Who’s to send me a letter through clouds sky?
My west chamber window’s full of moonlight
Flowers drift alone out of the smell
The creek running alone is natural
There’s one kind of love sickness
Coming from two places with sadness
No way could cure such a sickness
Just falling down from my eyebrows
Into my heart with sorrows

translated by Zhu Manhua
with thanks to Qiaoen for passing it my way

toward the east: for Qiaoen

the scent of jasmine
hangs in the air
the cup of tea
grows cold on the desk
a lone dog
howls in the dark
the clock on the wall
ticks away the night
and my mind
turns toward the east
five long hours away
where the morning sun
shines high in the sky
and this planet earth
is graced by her smile

Stopping at Beign Mountain by Wang Wan

Man on a road through green mountains.
A boat sails the green waters.

The banks grow when the tide stills.
One sail taut in the wind.

The ocean sun emerges from broken night.
Spring flows in rivers as the year ages.

How can my letter find its way home
to Luoyang where the geese fly?

translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping

Chatting about the Past with the Elder (Ching-jen) by Hung Liang-chi

reblogged for Jimmy

Leonard Durso

All ambitions of youth yield place to calamities;
Parted as in a dream–reunited, we can’t trust our eyes.
Shall we match our strength in climbing one more mountain?
Winning fame in literature, there’s you alone.
In a sea of dust, we still can tarry for a little while;
Or sit in a granary of books, all day, without food.
This morning I took myself to Yen Pavilion for a look,
Trying to find the leanest horse to ride down the capital street.

translated by Irving Lo

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Traveling By River In Lınghan by Liu Tsung-yuan

Sailing south on infested waters into the land of mist
horizon of tanglehead stretching to the sea
hills marked by elephant swaths after a rain
dragon drool rising from the depths in the sun
poison-spitting frogs that can see a traveler’s shadow
a typhoon sky frightening the passengers on board
my concerns however are other than these
namely how to bear white hair and the disappearing years

translated by Red Pine