I heard you were in a monastery
somewhere in the hills

maybe in Hangzhou
maybe in Yuchzhou

all this time apart
all this war and chaos

through this entire autumn
I’ve thought and thought about you

my body may be among the noisy gibbons
here in Kuizhou woods

but my spirit floats out to a tower
that hovers above the Eastern Sea

next year in spring I’ll sail
down this swollen river

east as far as the clouds themselves
in search of you.

translated by David Young

the party will end
and what will become of me?

here amid this vastness
I stand alone and chant my poem.

youth gives way as it must
to realities of age

joy and sadness take turns
in a dance we don’t control

translated by David Young

March is long gone
April is half over

how many more spring seasons
can any old man have?

well, stop these thoughts about
life, death, and infinity!

drink what’s left of your wine
enjoy it while you can.

translated by David Young

My sorrow is perfectly visible
to spring, that painted hussy

but she visits my river pavilion
as if it meant nothing at all

encourages the flowers
to open shamelessly

then persuades the orioles
to sing themselves into a frenzy.

translated by David Young