A faint phoenix-tail gauze, fragrant and doubled,
Lines your green canopy, closed for the night. . .
Will your shy face peer round a moon-shaped fan,
And your voice be heard hushing the rattle of my carriage?
It is quiet and quiet where your gold lamp dies,
How far can a pomegranate-blossom whisper?
. . .I will tether my horse to a river willow
And wait for the will of the southwest wind.

translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu

the land of heart’s desire
is never far away

bluebird, go find out the path–
show us how to get there!

translated by David Young

You ask me when I am coming. I do not know.
I dream of your mountains and autumn pools brimming all night with the rain.
Oh, when shall we be trimming wicks again, together in your western window?
When shall I be hearing your voice again, all night in the rain?

translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu

I ponder on the poem of The Precious Dagger.
My road has wound through many years.
. . .Now yellow leaves are shaken with a gale;
Yet piping and fiddling keep the Blue Houses merry.
On the surface, I seem to be glad of new people;
But doomed to leave old friends behind me,
I cry out from my heart for Shin-feng wine
To melt away my thousand woes.

translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu

the cat
crawls
onto my arm
pinning me down
with his love

it was the most melancholy version
I’ve ever heard
and suddenly I thought of my father
singing at the dining room table
his collar open
his sleeves rolled up
his glasses perched on his nose
his right hand covering his heart
his eyes on my mother alone
this song on his lips
and my eyes start to water
it could have been the wine
but I know it wasn’t
and that song will stay with me
in that version
for the rest of the nights
of my life

in the mirror
my father’s face
in my arms
his strength
in my mind
his thirst for knowledge
in my heart
his love
his gifts to me
still reverberating
these many years
after he’s gone