I cannot bear to put away
the bamboo sleeping mat–
that first night I brought you home,
I watched you roll it out.
translated by Sam Hamill
Peach Blossoms by Yuan Chen
Infinite peach-blossom shades,
her rouged and powdered cheeks.
Spring breezes help her break my heart,
blowing peach petals from her dress.
translated by Sam Hamill
“The only question we have a right to ask is what’s the right thing to do? What does this earth require of us if we want to continue to live on it?”
from Douglas Moore’s Art of Quotation
“We don’t have a right to ask whether we’re going to succeed or not. The only question we have a right to ask is what’s the right thing to do? What does this earth require of us if we want to continue to live on it?”
Wendell Berry, writer, from “Confronting the Consequences of Runaway Capitalism”. Interview with Bill Moyers, October 7, 2013.
Watching the Distances by Tu Fu
I watch the limitless distance of autumn,
the far-off dark rising up in layers
where icy waters merge with the frozen sky
and the city is blurred with mist.
Last leaves are torn into flight by winds,
and sunless, distant peaks fade fast.
A lone crane flops home at dusk.
The trees are full of crows.
translated by Sam Hamill
Rain during the Cold Food Festival by Su Tung-p’o
This is my third Cold Food Festival
since I was exiled to Huang-chou.
Each parting spring, each year, I grieve.
Nevertheless, each passes–no regret.
This year there’s pestilential rain,
the past two months dark as autumn.
I lie still, listening to cherry blossoms fall
into snow, pink and growing muddy.
Of what steals things in the dark,
the strangest arrives at midnight:
as though a young man went to bed
only to wake and find his hair turned white.
translated by Sam Hamill
after Liu Tsung-yuan: holding back tears
gazing at a picture
taken years ago
you dancing in apron
a holiday meal
among family
many of whom
are gone like you
it’s hard
holding back tears
knowing never to see
you dancing again
or singing off-key
those Italian songs
echoing in a house
no longer mine
Reading Books by Liu Tsung-yuan
Living in obscurity I’ve given up current affairs
I bow my head in silence and reflect on the sage kings
the highs and lows of the ancient past
the ups and downs of countless paths
I laugh to myself when I’m pleased
when I’m sad I simply sigh
I take my books from their cases
I go through from front to back
despite the affliction of tropical diseases
I feel different than in the past
while reading I suddenly understand
when I’m done my mind is a blank
who can I talk with at night
if not these texts on bamboo and silk
I lie down when I get tired
after a good sleep I feel refreshed
I yawn and stretch my limbs
I read out loud to my heart’s content
I enjoy doing what suits me
not to please learned men
I shut up when I’ve said what I want
free of restraints I relax
the clever consider me stupid
the wise think I’m a fool
but reading has managed to make me happy
what good is working till you drop
cherish this body of yours
don’t use it to chase after fame
translated by Red Pine
Seeing off Yuan Er on a Mission to Anhsi by Wang Wei
Morning rain dampens the dust in Weicheng
new willow branches have turned the inn green
drink one more cup of wine my friend
west of Yang Pass there’s no one you know
translated by Red Pine
ALONG THE ROAD PAST SHANGSHAN THERE WAS A LONE PINE TO WHICH SOMEONE TOOK AN AXE FOR MORE LIGHT. A KIND PERSON TOOK PITY AND BUILT A BAMBOO FENCE AROUND WHAT REMAINED, AND IT RESPONDED WITH NEW GROWTH. MOVED, I WROTE THIS POEM by Liu Tsung-yuan
A lone pine shaded a rest stop with green
putting down roots beside a dirt road
it didn’t need to guard against the heights
it was injured for the sake of more light
luckily a kindhearted person came along
surrounding it with a fence
part of its heart survived
enough to feel the rain and dew
translated by Red Pine
from Han-shan 5
Last night I dreamt I went home
and saw my wife at her loom
she stopped the shuttle as if in thought
then raised it as if without strength
I called and she turned to look
she looked but didn’t know me
I guess we’d been apart too many years
and my temples weren’t their old color
translated by Red Pine
Leonard Durso 