I for one have no plans to abandon the road I’m on.
translated by Burton Watson
Ch’ı-chi
Autumn Evening: To Send to My Nieces and Nephews by Ch’i-chi
Each year, come the late autumn evenings,
I sit by the lamp recalling my old home,
gardens and groves red with oranges and pomelos,
windows and doors blue with Hsiao and Hsiang waters.
But since I left you old age has come on,
I quail at the long road that parts us.
Brothers young and old, just so you’re well,
tending fields and silkworms amid these fires of war!
translated by Burton Watson
from Thinking of a Monk of Flower Summit on Mount T’ien-t’ai by Ch’i-chi
I wish I could go again, make the Wise One my teacher,
but my head is white and the road so very long.
translated by Burton Watson
Don’t Ask by Ch’i-chi
Don’t ask if I’ve ceased wanting anything–
we all know the simile of the drifting clouds.
Excess wouldn’t fit the precepts:
take what comes and you’re never in doubt.
How happy, that worthy Yen!
Even the sage Confucius was poor.
Once you’ve passed the age of understanding
stop trying to change destiny’s course.
translated by Burton Watson
from Sent to a Poetry Friend by Ch’i-chi
I thought of you these past fall evenings,
both of us facing the cold lamp, composing.
translated by Burton Watson
The Year Keng-wu, Night of the Fifteenth, Facing the Moon by Ch’i-chi
Sea calm, sky blue, moon just now full–
in my poems I think how cold Hsuan-tsung must be tonight.
The jade rabbit in the moon, if he has a heart, will remember too,
as he looks west and cannot see the old Ch’ang-an.
translated by Burton Watson
from the series Don’t Ask: 11 by Ch’i-chi
Don’t ask if I’ve ceased wanting anything–
we all know the simile of the drifting clouds.
Excess wouldn’t fit the precepts:
take what comes and you’re never in doubt.
How happy, that worthy Yen!
Even the sage Confucius was poor.
Once you’ve passed the age of understanding
stop trying to change destiny’s course.
translated by Burton Watson
Delighted That The Monk Chien-chou Has Come A Long Way To Visit Me by Ch’i-chi
He and I both nearing seventy,
what does it mean to meet like this?
The age of a sage king has yet to arrive,
but partings and rebellions–we have plenty of that!
Though the gate to detachment is hard to attain,
days of leisure pass quickly.
For the rest of our lives, aside from writing letters,
we’ll just be at the beck of the poetry devil.
translated by Burton Watson
Leonard Durso 