Alright, my pond mirrors sky, azure into azure.
I just pour in a few jars of water, fill it brimful,
then wait. Evening deepens and the moon sets,
and look, swimming down there: all those stars!
translated by David Hinton
9th Century Chinese poetry
In Reply to Chia P’eng of the Mountains, Sent Upon Seeing That the Pine He Planted Outside My Office Has Begun to Prosper by Liu Tsung-yüan
Flourish and ruin keep leaving each other,
but no-mind stays, dark-enigma’s fruition.
The bloom of youth scatters steadily away
and grandeur crumbles to its tranquil end,
but mountain streams continue here in this
green pine you brought to this courtyard,
deep snows showing off its radiant beauty
and cold blossoms its kingfisher-greens.
At dawn, even a pure recluse must yearn:
now, I just invite clear wind for company.
translated by David Hinton
from Water Sifting Sand: No. 4 by Po Chü-i
A day will no doubt come when dust flies at the bottom of seas,
and how can mountaintops avoid the transformation to gravel?
Young lovers may part, a man leaving, setting out on some boat,
but who can say they’ll never come together again one day?
translated by David Hinton
The Coat of Gold Brocade by Du Qiuniang
I tell you, don’t adore your coat of gold brocade.
I tell you, adore the short spell of youth.
When the bloom is ready it must be plucked.
Don’t wait till flowers drop and break the empty twig.
translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping
Lament for Peony Flowers by Bai Juyi
I grieve for the red peony flower by the steps.
By this evening two branches have withered.
Tomorrow morning wind will blow away the rest.
At night I keep sad watch, hold flame over the dying red.
translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping
Black-Uniform Lane by Liu Yuxi: THERE IS A MISTAKE IN THE TITLE OF THIS POEM. IT SHOULD BE Bamboo Branch Song. Same poet, though. And I swear I wasn’t drinking..
Willows are green, green and the river water flat.
I hear a man on the river singing me songs
and see sun on my east, rain on my west.
The sun is shying off, but I feel his shine.
translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping
On Laozi by Bai Juyi
“The ignorant speak, but the sage stay silent.”
I heard this saying from Laozi.
But if Laozi knew the Way,
why did he write a book of five thousand characters?
translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping
Moon by Xue Tao
Its spirit leans like a thin hook
or opens round like a Han-loom fan,
slender shadow whose nature is to be full,
seen everywhere in the human world.
translated by Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping
After Finishing a Poem by Chia Tao
Those two lines cost me three years:
I chant them once and get two more, of tears.
Friend, if you don’t like them. . .
I’ll go home, and lie down,
in the ancient mountain autumn.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Sick Cicada by Chia Tao
A sick cicada, unable now to fly,
Walks over onto my palm.
Its broken wing can still grow thinner.
And its bitter songs are clear as ever.
Dewdrops stick on its belly,
Dust specks fallen by mischance in its eyes.
The oriole and the kite as well
Both harbor the thought of your ruin.
translated by Stephen Owen
Leonard Durso 