The candle burned out, my boat is windblown.
You ask about my southern sailing:
I sat awake all night in silence,
waves pounding on the lake.
translated by Sam Hamill
9th Century Chinese poetry
Bamboo Mat by Yuan Chen
I cannot bear to put away
the bamboo sleeping mat–
that first night I brought you home,
I watched you roll it out.
translated by Sam Hamill
Reading Books by Liu Tsung-yuan
Living in obscurity I’ve given up current affairs
I bow my head in silence and reflect on the sage kings
the highs and lows of the ancient past
the ups and downs of countless paths
I laugh to myself when I’m pleased
when I’m sad I simply sigh
I take my books from their cases
I go through from front to back
despite the affliction of tropical diseases
I feel different than in the past
while reading I suddenly understand
when I’m done my mind is a blank
who can I talk with at night
if not these texts on bamboo and silk
I lie down when I get tired
after a good sleep I feel refreshed
I yawn and stretch my limbs
I read out loud to my heart’s content
I enjoy doing what suits me
not to please learned men
I shut up when I’ve said what I want
free of restraints I relax
the clever consider me stupid
the wise think I’m a fool
but reading has managed to make me happy
what good is working till you drop
cherish this body of yours
don’t use it to chase after fame
translated by Red Pine
ALONG THE ROAD PAST SHANGSHAN THERE WAS A LONE PINE TO WHICH SOMEONE TOOK AN AXE FOR MORE LIGHT. A KIND PERSON TOOK PITY AND BUILT A BAMBOO FENCE AROUND WHAT REMAINED, AND IT RESPONDED WITH NEW GROWTH. MOVED, I WROTE THIS POEM by Liu Tsung-yuan
A lone pine shaded a rest stop with green
putting down roots beside a dirt road
it didn’t need to guard against the heights
it was injured for the sake of more light
luckily a kindhearted person came along
surrounding it with a fence
part of its heart survived
enough to feel the rain and dew
translated by Red Pine
The Gold-threaded Robe by Tu Ch’iu-niang
Covet not a gold-threaded robe,
Cherish only your young days!
If a bud open, gather it—
Lest you but wait for an empty bough.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
from A Spring Day in the Countryside by Wen T’ing-yün
The feeling of separation, what is there to say
But that the heart is an endless river of stars.
translated by William R. Schultz
quote from Li Shang-yin
Literature endures like the universal spirit,
And its breath becomes a part of the vitals of all men.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
from To the Waters of the Chia-ling, Two Poems: Poem Two by Yüan Chen
You, waters 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
Night Rains: to my Wife up North by Li Shang-yin
You ask how long before I come. Still no date set.
The night rains on Mount Pa swell the autumn pool.
When shall we, side by side, trim a candle at the West Window,
And talk back to the time of the night rains on Mount Pa?
translated by A.C. Graham
Pien River blocked by Ice by Tu Mu
For a thousand miles along the river, when the ice begins to close,
Harness jades and girdle jaspers tinkle at the jagged edge.
The drift of life’s no different from the water under the ice
Hurrying Eastward day and night while no one notices.
translated by A.C. Graham
Leonard Durso 