Masses of flowers and plants envelop the riverbanks;
Walking there, unsteady in my steps, I’m really afraid of spring.
My verses and my wine I can still manage:
There’s no need yet to look after this white-haired one.
translated by Irving Y. Lo
8th Century Chinese poetry
from Farm Routine by Ch’u Kuang-hsi
My family greet me with mocking smiles;
But never would I have changed my mind.
translated by Joseph J. Lee
The Cowherd: A Song by Ch’u Kuang-hsi
It matters not if the pasture is far;
It matters not if the slope is steep.
Whether or not the cattle are tame or wild,
The cowherd’s mind is always calm.
A round bamboo hat over my head,
And a long palm-leaf coat to cover my body.
They’re good against summer showers
And good for days cloudy and cold.
The big cows are hidden behind the slopes;
The little ones dart in and out of nearby woods.
All things seem to please each other;
And they move me to sing and chant.
Joy is found in a moment;
Who would ask for a finer tune?
translated by Joseph J. Lee
from Poem Two of Meandering River, Two Poems by Tu Fu
I’d whisper to the wind and light: “Together let’s tarry;
We shall enjoy the moment, and never contrary be.”
translated by Irving Y. Lo
from Orchid and Orange (A Plea for Official Preferment): II by Chang Chiu-ling
Here, south of the Yang-tsze, grows a red orange-tree.
All winter long its leaves are green,
Not because of a warmer soil,
But because its nature is used to the cold.
Though it might serve your honourable guests,
You leave it here, far below mountain and river.
Circumstance governs destiny.
Cause and effect are an infinite cycle.
You plant your peach-trees and your plums,
You forget the shade from this other tree.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
On Hearing a Flute at Night from the Wall of Shou-hsiang by Li Yi
The sand below the border-mountain lies like snow,
And the moon like frost beyond the city-wall,
And someone somewhere, playing a flute,
Has made the soldiers homesick all night long.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
A Night Abroad by Tu Fu
A light wind is rippling at the grassy shore. . .
Through the night, to my motionless mast,
The stars lean down from open space,
And the moon comes running up the river.
. . .If only my art might bring me fame
And free my sick old age from office!–
Flitting, flitting, what am I like
But a sand-snipe in the wide, wide world!
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
from The Hard Road by Li Po
I would cross the Yellow River, but ice chokes the ferry;
I would climb the T’ai-hang Mountain, but the sky is blind with snow. . .
I would sit and poise a fishing-pole, lazy by a brook–
But I suddely dream of riding a boat, sailing for the sun. . .
Journeying is hard,
Journeying is hard.
There are many turnings–
Which am I to follow?. . .
I will mount a long wind some day and break the heavy waves
And set my cloudy sail straight and bridge the deep, deep sea.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
somewhat appropriate this morning though new friends would be better than old: Chancing on Old Friends in a Village Inn by Tai Shu-lun
While the autumn moon is pouring full
On a thousand night-levels among towns and villages,
There meet by chance, south of the river,
Dreaming doubters of a dream. . .
In the trees a wind has startled the birds,
And insects cower from the cold in the grass;
But wayfarers at least have wine
And nothing to fear–till the morning bell.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
She Sighs on Her Jade Lute by Wen T’ing-yun
A cool-matted silvery bed; but no dreams. . .
An evening sky as green as water, shadowed with tender clouds;
But far off over the southern rivers the calling of a wildgoose,
And here a twelve-story building, lonely under the moon.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
Leonard Durso 