Wanderer’s Song by Meng Chiao

The thread in the hand of a kind mother
Is the coat on the wanderer’s back.
Before he left she stitched it close
In secret fear that he would be slow to return.
Who will say that the inch of grass in his heart
Is gratitude enough for all the sunshine of spring?

translated by A.C. Graham

Fisherman by Liu Zongyuan

A fisherman spends the night under West Rock,
pails clear river water and burns bamboo.
Smokes vanishes, sun rises, and no one is seen.
The swishing oar turns mountains and water green.
Floating the central current, he turns to gaze at the sky
above rock where mindless clouds chase each other.

translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping