I’m no immortal. I can’t just soar away
beyond change. There’s no doubt about it,
death’s death. Once you see that, you’ll
see that turning down drinks is for fools.
translated by David Hinton
4th Century Chinese poetry
from Peach-Blossom Spring by T’ao Ch’ien
Wandering in the world, who can fathom
what lies beyond its clamor and dust. O,
how I long to rise into thin air and
ride the wind in search of my own kind.
translated by David Hinton
Night: Setting Out From Shih-kuan Pavilion by Hsieh Ling-yün
Followed mountains over a thousand miles,
Floated on a stream for almost ten evenings.
Birds return: boats and oars put aside.
Stars thinned out: a long weary trip.
High and bright, morning moon.
Cold, so cold, early dewdrips.
translated by Wai-lim Yip
from Drinking Wine by T’ao Ch’ien
Perhaps a man, in time, may get beyond the clothing
of conventional ideas. . .
translated by J.P. Seaton
Song 3 by Tzu-yeh
Nights are long and I cannot sleep
the clear moon so bright and shining.
I think I hear a voice fitfully calling,
and futilely I answer yes to the empty sky.
translated by Burton Watson
Song 2 by Tzu-yeh
In the hottest time, when all is still and windless
and summer clouds rise up at dusk,
under the dense leaves, take my hand
and we’ll float melons on the water, dunk crimson plums.
translated by Burton Watson
Song by Tzu-yeh
Cool breezes–I sleep by the open window
where the light of the setting moon shines in.
At midnight there are no voices,
but within my gauze curtains, a pair of smiles.
translated by Burton Watson
from Steady Rain, Drinking Alone by T’ao Ch’ien
in this body long since lost to change,
my thoughts remain, quite silent after all.
translated by David Hinton
from Lady Midnight Songs of the Four Seasons: Autumn 5
Autumn’s cold, the window wide open.
A tilted moon fills the room with light.
It’s midnight, and nothing need be said:
just two smiles behind a gauze curtain.
translated by David Hinton
from Lady Midnight Songs of the Four Seasons: Autumn 4
Autumn’s chill infuses crystalline wind.
A moon drifts heaven’s exquisite depths,
radiant. Lovely women ready winter robes,
ten thousand sticks beating frozen stone.
translated by David Hinton
NOTE: using sticks to beat clothing on special stones in autumn was a ritual women had to show longing for lovers taken far off to war.
Leonard Durso 