Her hands of white jade by a window of snow
Are glimmering on a golden-fretted harp–
And to draw the quick eye of Chou Yü,
She touches a wrong note now and then.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
Chinese poet
A Sigh From A Staircase Of Jade by Li Po (Li Bai)
Her jade-white staircase is cold with dew;
Her silk soles are wet, she lingered there so long. . .
Behind her closed casement, why is she still waiting,
Watching through its crystal pane the glow of the autumn moon?
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
from Five Songs by Tzu Yeh
I am the North Pole
Steady for a thousand years.
Your sun-like heart
Goes East in the morning
And West in the evening.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth & Ling Chung
from Entering Tung-t’ing Lake by Tu Fu
Returning, waves high and south winds strong, I
Fear sunsets. But tonight, a dazzling lake
Stretches into distant heavens–as if any moment,
On this raft of immortals, I will drift away.
translated by David Hinton
Autumn Spring by Hsüeh T’ao
The cold hue newly clears, a belt of haze;
The mysterious sound gurgles afar, the ten-stringed lute.
Endlessly to my pillow they come, to draw thoughts of love,
Not letting this pensive soul half the night to sleep.
translated by Eric W. Johnson
Farewell to a Friend by Hsüeh T’ao
The water country’s reeds and rushes, night, covered with frost;
The moon’s coldness, the mountains’ cast share a bleak, pale blue.
Who can say, from this night on, a thousand li away,
My dreams of you, dim as the distant frontier?
translated by Eric W. Johnson
from Feng-ya Song by Tu Fu
How long before I’ve grown feathers and wings
and settled beside you at the end of flight?
translated by David Hinton
from Miscellaneous Poems, Poem 3 by T’ao Ch’ien
Bright blossoms seldom last long;
Life’s ups-and-downs can’t be charted.
What was a lotus flower in spring,
Is now the seed-husk of autumn.
Severe frost freezes the wild grass:
Decay has yet to finish it off.
Sun and moon come back once more,
But where I go, no sun will shine.
I look back longingly on times gone by–
Remembering the past wounds my soul.
translated by Eugene Eoyang
from an untitled poem by T’ao Ch’ien
…my soul is not fashioned like other men’s.
To drive in their rut I might perhaps learn:
To be untrue to myself could only lead to muddle.
Let us drink and enjoy together the wine you have brought:
For my course is set and cannot now be altered.
translated by Arthur Waley
People Hide Their Love by Wu-ti
Who says
That it’s by my desire,
This separation, this living so far from you?
My dress still smells of the lavender you gave:
My hand still holds the letter that you sent.
Round my waist I wear a double sash:
I dream that it binds us both with a same-heart knot.
Did not you know that people hide their love,
Like the flower that seems too precious to be picked?
translated by Arthur Waley
Leonard Durso 