On the stairway fragrance assails the bosom;
In the garden flowers light the eye.
Once the spring heart is like this,
Love comes without bounds.
translated by Jan W. Walls
Chinese poet
Jade Steps Plaint by Hsieh T’iao
Palace at dusk, the pearl blind is lowered,
Drifting fireflies glide and come to rest;
Through the long night I sew a fine silk jacket–
My thoughts of you, when will they end?
translated by Ronald C. Miao
from On the Border: poem 3 by Kuan Hsiu
In Green Mound Cave, they say
a white wolf dwells.
Once in a while it comes out
looks east, and howls
and howls
and howls.
Paint that for me, if you can,
my painter friend.
translated by J.P. Seaton
from Drinking Wine by T’ao Ch’ien
Perhaps a man, in time, may get beyond the clothing
of conventional ideas. . .
translated by J.P. Seaton
from Songs of My Heart’s Ideals: 3 by Juan Chi
Gently, the breeze at my silken sleeves;
the moon: bright as ice. . .
The rooster, in the treetops, crows.
I’ll saddle my horse: it’s time to go home.
translated by J.P. Seaton
from Songs of My Heart’s Ideals 2: by Juan Chi
I stand here, and gaze upon
the evergreens of Mount Chingham.
They are comfort, solace, for my heart.
translated by J.P. Seaton
from Song of My Heart’s Ideals by Juan Chi
But pacing there I find my heart turns to friends and loved ones,
and all’s a sudden dark again.
So I send these poems by the eastward-singing birds. . .
Purging my heart of all the words
that could give form to sadness.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Grass on the Ancient Plain by Po Chu-i
So tender, so tender, the grasses on the plain,
in one year, to wither, then flourish.
Wildfire cannot burn them away.
Spring breezes’ breath, they spring again,
their distant fragrance on the ancient way,
their sunlit emerald greens the ruined walls.
Seeing you off again, dear friend,
sighing, sighing, full of parting’s pain.
translated by J.P. Seaton
from “You cannot hold it. . .” by Ou-yang Hsiu
Nurture the tender blossoms there, don’t wait.
No flowers to be plucked
from empty bough.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Rapt in Wine by Su Shih (Su Tung-p’o)
Rapt in wine against the mountain rains,
dressed I dozed in evening brightness,
and woke to hear the watch drum striking dawn.
In dreams I was a butterfly,
my joyful body light.
I grow old, my talents are used up,
but still I plot toward the return. . .
to find a field and take a cottage
where I can laugh at heroes,
and pick my way among the muddy puddles
on a lakeside path.
translated by J.P. Seaton
Leonard Durso 