from Three Dreams at Chiang-ling: III by YΓΌan Chen

Your bones have long since turned to dust,
My heart for just as long to ashes!
A hundred -year life has no end!
For three nights you’ve come to me in a dream.
The flowing waters have passed and are gone,
The floating clouds, where are they now?
As I sit watching the morning sun come up,
A flock of birds by twos returns.

translated by William H. Nienhauser

Parting from Wang Wei by Meng Hao-jan

Forlorn and lonely, my time will never come;
Day after day, I return by myself in vain.
I wish to go away, to seek fragrant herbs,
But regret that I must leave an old friend behind.
On whom among those in power might I depend?
Few in this world hear the same music as I.
All I can do is keep to my lonely solitude,
And just close the gate of my old garden.

translated by Daniel Bryant

No Word by Tu Fu

Haven’t seen my friend Li Po for some time:
It’s really too bad, his feigning madness.
The whole world would want him executed,
Save I,who cherrish his abilities.

A thousand fine and spirited poems he’s written,
With a cup of wine, and wandering in solitude.
Here I am in K’uang Shan, where he used to study:
He’d do worse than come back—now that his hair’s turned white.

translated by Eugene Eoyang