Everything passes, everything
Goes, and never looks back,
And we grow older and less strong.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
Chinese poet
The Tiniest of Lives by Chin Jen-jui
Beneath the leaf a green insect, and frost upon the leaf;
The tiniest of lives, having come to this, is most to be pitied.
Had I the strength of high heaven and rotund earth,
I’d make you live a thousand autumns, ten thousand years.
translated by Irving Lo
Ancient Sentiments by Wu Wei-yeh
My love is like the silk on the loom,
To be woven into a Tree of Longing.
I’m like blossoms on your cloth coat
Which no spring wind can deflower.
translated by Irving Lo
On the Road to Tang Lake by P’eng Sun-yü
In the evening I gaze out from atop a high tower;
The sun’s radiance in the forest has been clear all day.
On Lonely Mountain the autumn garrison is cold,
Up the three branches of the Mao River the night tides are born.
Fishermen’s fires appear out in the main current,
Gull-topped waves stay bright all night long.
It’s time for our boat to stop for a moment:
The misty moon is just too filled with feeling.
translated by William H. Nienhauser, Jr.
Farewell to Monk Chih-hsinmg by Chia Tao
You have lived a long time
at Pa-hsing Temple;
retired, you’re preparing
only now to leave.
On the verge of parting, we look
out upon the bright water of autumn;
you’re not returning to your hometown
nor to the countryside near it.
You will hang your Buddhist staff in a tree
where the sky reaches to a watery horizon;
where the door-leaf of your hut
opens on great mountains.
Below, you will see dawn
a thousand li away;
a miniature sun
born of a cold white sea.
translated by Mike O’Connor
Morning Travel by Chia Tao
Rising early
to begin the journey;
not a sound
from the chickens next door.
Beneath the lamp,
I part from the innkeeper;
on the road, my skinny horse
moves through the dark.
Slipping on stones
newly frosted,
threading through woods,
we scare up birds roosting.
After a bell tolls
far in the mountains,
the colors of daybreak
gradually clear.
translated by Mike O’Connor
Winter Night Farewell by Chia Tao
At first light, you ride
swiftly over the village bridge;
Plum blossoms fall
on the stream and unmelted snow.
With the days short and the weather cold,
it’s sad to see a guest depart;
The Ch’u Mountains are boundless,
and the road, remote.
translated by Mike O’Connor
from Under the Heaven of Our Holy Ruler by Su Tung-p’o
Bury me anywhere on the green hills
and another year in night rain grieve for me alone.
Let us be brothers in lives and lives to come,
mending then the bonds that this world breaks.
translated by Burton Watson
note: written while in prison for criticizing the empreror.
To the Tune of “Partridge Sky” by Su Tung-p’o
Mountains shine through forest breaks, bamboo hides the wall;
withered grass by small ponds, jumbled cicada cries.
White birds again and again cut across the sky;
faint scent of lotus shining pink on the water.
Beyond the village,
by old town walls,
with goosefoot cane I stroll where late sunlight turns.
Thanks to rain that fell at the third watch last night
I get another cool day in this floating world.
translated by Burton Watson
South Hall by Su Tung-p’o
Sweep the floor, burn incense, close the door to sleep;
a mat marked like water, curtains like mist.
I dream a guest comes, wake wondering where I am,
prop open the west window on waves that meet the sky.
translated by Burton Watson
Leonard Durso 