Rows of carriages, grooms at rest—
A festive scene by the green water-margin:
The dark orchids release glorious fragrance,
The lotus radiates a red glow.
A hundred birds, how they flap and flutter,
With winged tumult the flocks chase each other.
“Cast the nets, pull in the deep-hiding fish;
Draw back the crossbow, down the high flying ones”—
The sun is already hidden in the west,
With such happiness, who thinks of going home?
translated by Ronald C. Miao
3rd Century Chinese poetry
from Boudoir Thoughts, Four Selections: 3 by Hsü Kan
The drifting clouds, distant and vast,
I wish they could convey my message.
Yet floating above, they are beyond reach,
Vainly we trust our loving thoughts to them.
When people separate they always reunite,
You alone, sir, have not returned.
Since you went away,
My bright mirror lies dim, untended.
My love for you is as the flowing waters,
How can there ever be an end?
translated by Ronald C. Miao
from Nineteen Old Poems: How Green Is The Riveside Grass by anonymous poet
How green is the riverside grass
the garden willows are a veil of mist
upstairs is the loveliest woman
filling the window with light
her face ablush with rouge
her jade-like hands barely showing
once a sing-song girl
she’s now an absent man’s wife
and how can an absent man
protect a vacant bed
translated by Red Pine
from Lotus Lake by Ts’ao P’i
Mine is not the long life of Sung or Ch’iao,
who can hope to be immortal like them?
With pleasures I will ease my heart,
take care to live out my hundred years!
translated by Burton Watson
For Ku Yen-hsien, A Poem for Him to Give to His Wife by Lu Yün
I on the sunny side of Three Rivers,
you in the gloom south of Five Lakes,
mountains and seas vast between us,
farther apart than bird and fish–
my eyes envision your lovely form,
my ears still ring with your soft sweet voice.
I lie down alone, full of far-off thoughts;
waking, I stroke the collar of my empty robe.
Beautiful one, sharer of my longing,
who but you will ever hold my heart?
translated by Burton Watson
from Songs of My Heart’s Ideals: 3 by Juan Chi
Gently, the breeze at my silken sleeves;
the moon: bright as ice. . .
The rooster, in the treetops, crows.
I’ll saddle my horse: it’s time to go home.
translated by J.P. Seaton
from Songs of My Heart’s Ideals 2: by Juan Chi
I stand here, and gaze upon
the evergreens of Mount Chingham.
They are comfort, solace, for my heart.
translated by J.P. Seaton
from Song of My Heart’s Ideals by Juan Chi
But pacing there I find my heart turns to friends and loved ones,
and all’s a sudden dark again.
So I send these poems by the eastward-singing birds. . .
Purging my heart of all the words
that could give form to sadness.
translated by J.P. Seaton
from Songs from the Heart by Juan Chi: No. 1
Late at night unable to sleep
I sit up and played my zither
moonlight shone through the curtains
a cool breeze ruffled my robe
in the distant wilds a lone goose cried
above the north woods a circling bird called
this way then that searching for something
while anxious thoughts troubled my heart
translated by Red Pine
untitled Chinese poem 3 by anonymous
In the courtyard is a marvelous tree
its green leaves spreading a profusion of flowers
I bend a branch and gather blossoms
to send to the one I love
sweet smells fill my lapels and sleeves
but the road is long and nothing can reach you
these things have no value as precious gifts
they only remind me how long you’ve been away
translated by Charles Hartman
Leonard Durso 