My old friend takes off from the Yellow Crane Tower,
In smoke-flower third month down to Yangchou.
A lone sail, a distant shade, lost in the blue horizon.
Only the long Yangtze is seen flowing into the sky.
translated by Wai-lim Yip
Chinese poet
On and On: An Ancient Song (Yüeh-fu) by Li Ho
White reflection retreats to western hills.
A jasper corona goes up in the distance.
The past, the present: where to end?
A thousand years gone with the winds.
Sands of the sea turn into stones.
Fish bubble, blast the bridge of Ch’in.
Light of the sky wanders far away.
Bronze pillars erode with the years.
translated by Wai-lim Yip
To Li Po on a Winter Day by Tu Fu
Alone in my secluded hut,
I think of you all day, Li Po.
Whenever I read of friendship,
I remember your friendly poems.
Harsh winds tatter your old clothes
as you search for the wine of endless life.
Unable to go with you, I remember only
that old hermitage we’d hoped to make a home.
translated by Sam Hamill
Stayover At Pei-ku Shan by Wang Wan
The road reaches beyond mountains.
The boat moves on the green water.
Tides now calm: two banks widen.
Wind stills: one sail straight.
Sun grows from sea: the night tatters.
Upon the river, spring: the year ages.
A letter from home: where to send to?
With the returning geese to Lo-yang.
translated by Wai-lim Yip
Bamboo Grove by Wang Wei
I sit alone among dark bamboos,
Strum the lute and let loose my voice.
Grove so deep, no one knows.
The moon visits and shines on me.
translated by Wai-lim Yip
To See A Friend Off by Wang Wei
Dismount and drink this wine.
Where to? I ask.
At odds with the world:
Return to rest by the South Hill.
Go. Go. Do not ask again.
Endless, the white clouds.
translated by Wai-lim Yip
Night: Setting Out From Shih-kuan Pavilion by Hsieh Ling-yün
Followed mountains over a thousand miles,
Floated on a stream for almost ten evenings.
Birds return: boats and oars put aside.
Stars thinned out: a long weary trip.
High and bright, morning moon.
Cold, so cold, early dewdrips.
translated by Wai-lim Yip
Sailing into the South Lake by Chan Fang-sheng
P’eng-li commands three rivers.
Mount Lu masters other hills.
White sand cleans the waterway.
Green pines cover hanging crags.
The water: since when, it flows?
This mountain: since when, its being?
Man’s fate changes from this to that!
These forms alone stay forever.
Within the distant reach of the cosmos,
Past, present, in order, first, last.
translated by Wai-lim Yip
Autumn Night: A Letter Sent To Ch’iu by Wei Ying-wu
Thinking of you, in autumn night,
Strolling, chanting the cool air.
Empty mountain: pine cones fall.
Secluded man: staying up, still?
translated by Wai-lim Yip
Hearing the Flute in the City of Loyang in a Spring Night by Li Po
Whose jade-flute is this, notes flying invisibly
Scatter into spring winds, filling City of Loyang?
Hearing the “Break-a-Willow-Twig” tonight,
Who can withhold the surge of thoughts of home?
ytranslated by Wai-lim Yip
Leonard Durso 