I bow, then bow again, deeper, ashamed
I haven’t an immortal’s talent. And yet,

boundless, I can dwindle time and space
away, losing the world in such distances!

translated by David Hinton

I love this T’ung-kuan joy. A thousand
years, and still I’d never leave here.

It makes me dance, my swirling sleeves
sweeping all Five-Pine Mountain clean.

translated by David HintonLi Po

Azure heaven pinched between Wu Mountains,
riverwater keeps streaming down like this,

and with riverwater cascading so suddenly
away, we’ll never reach that azure heaven.

Three mornings we start up Huang-niu Gorge,
and three nights find we’ve gone nowhere.

Three mornings and three nights: for once
I’ve forgotten my hair turning white as silk.

translated by David Hinton

Carrying a ch’in cased in green silk, a monk
descended from O-mei Mountain in the west.

When he plays, even in a few first notes,
I hear the pines of ten thousand valleys,

and streams rinse my wanderer’s heart clean.
Echoes linger among temple frost-fall bells,

night coming unnoticed in emerald mountains,
autumn clouds banked up, gone dark and deep.

translated by David Hinton

Rinsing sorrows of a thousand forevers
away, we linger out a hundred jars of wine,

the clear night’s clarity filling small talk,
a lucid moon keeping us awake. And after

we’re drunk, we sleep in empty mountains,
all heaven our blanket, earth our pillow.

translated by David Hinton

Seeing moonlight here at my bed
and thinking it was frost on the ground,

I look up, gaze at the mountain moon,
then back, dreaming of my old home.

translated by David Hinton

Here on the summit of Fan-k’o Mountain, it’s Tu Fu
under a midday sun sporting his huge farmer’s hat.

How is it you’ve gotten so thin since we parted?
Must be all those poems you’ve been suffering over.

translated by David Hinton

So much beauty home–flowers filled the house.
So much beauty gone–nothing but this empty bed,

your embroidered quilt rolled up, never used.
It’s been three years. Your scent still lingers,

your scent gone and yet never ending.
But now you’re gone, never to return,

thoughts of you yellow leaves falling,
white dew glistening on green moss.

translated by Daviid Hinton

Breezes filling the inn with willow-blossom scents,
elegant girls serve wine, enticing us to try it.

Chin-ling friends come to see me off, I try to leave
but cannot, so we linger out another cup together.

I can’t tell anymore. Which is long and which short,
the river flowing east or thoughts farewell brings on?

translated by David Hinton