Spring, napped, unconscious of the dawn.
Everywhere, birdsong.
Night sounded, wind, and rain.
How many petals, now, are fallen?
translated by J.P. Seaton
8th Century Chinese poetry
Birdsong Brook by Wang Wei
Mind at peace, cassia flowers fall,
Night still, spring mountain empty.
Moon rising startles mountain birds
Now and again sing from spring brook.
translated by Irving Y. Lo
To the Waters of the Chia-ling, Two poems by Yuan Zhen
1
Long ago you were perhaps
a river flowing down a mountain!
Since then you’ve been flowing,
deepening your bed;
If I could make a river current
understand human feeling,
Then you might know my mind
on coming from so far.
2
You, water with no feeling,
Have you regrets as you flow east?
In my heart are things I cannot express,
Does that make me different from you?
translated by William H. Nienhauser
from Missing Her After Separation by Yuan Zhen
A mountain spring randomly flows over the steps:
a small house among thousands of peach flowers.
Before getting up, I leaf through a Daoist book
and watch her combing her hair under the crystal curtain.
translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping
Petals Falling in the River by Yuan Zhen
At sunset the Jialing River flows east
and thousands of pear petals chase the river wind.
What twists my stomach as I watch the river flowers?
Half have fallen in the river, half drift on the air.
translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping
Ancient Air by Lı Po (Li Bai)
Deep in the gorgeous gloom the lotus grows,
to blossom fresh upon the morning air.
Its petals cover even the clarity of autumn’s flow,
its leaves spreading, blue smoke there.
But it’s in vain, this beauty that would overwhelm the world.
Who sees it? Who will say he saw?
And in its time the frost will come, chilling,
its deep red will wither, and its fragrance fade.
Poor choice it’s made of where to put its roots.
It would be seen to more advantage in a garden pond.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Moonlight Night by Tu Fu
Moon of this night,in Fu-chou,
alone in your chamber you gaze.
Here, far away, I think of the children,
too young to remember Longpeace. . .
Fragrant mist, moist cloud of your hair.
In that clear light, your arms of jade cool.
When, again to lean together, by your curtain there,
alight alike, until our tears have dried.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Zaren on Jingting Mountain by Li Bai (Li Po)
The birds have vanished down the sky
and now the last cloud drains away.
We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.
translated by Sam Hamill
At Ch’iu-pu Lake by Li Po
White hair! Three thousand yards of it.
And a sadness, a sorrow, as long.
I don’t understand. Where did my bright mirror
find all this autumn frost?
translated by J.P. Seaton
Bamboo Pavilion by Wang Wei
I sit alone among the tallest of the tall bamboo,
pluck the lute, and whistle melodies, again.
This deep grove’s unknown to other men.
Bright moon, when it comes: we shine together.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Leonard Durso 