The sun sets on the dike where I walk,
As I sing alone the song of “Hand-in-hand.”
Then I remember the one whose hand I once held,
And everywhere I look, spring is radiant and green.
Chinese poet
Willow by Li Shang-yin
Awakening spring: how many leaves!
Rustling dawn: how many branches!
Does she know the pangs of love?
Never a time she wouldn’t dance.
Pussy willows aflutter–hide white butterfly,
Tendrils hanging limp–bare yellow oriole.
All conquering beauty, perfect through and through:
Who would enjoy just the brows of her eyes?
translated by Eugene Eoyang & Irving Y.Lo
Reply To Yuan Chen by Po Chu-I
You write out my poems, filling monastery walls,
and I crowd these door-screens here with yours.
Old friend, we never know where it is we’ll meet–
we two duckweed leaves adrift on such vast seas.
translated by David Hinton
Farewell Once More: to my friend at Feng Chi Station by Tu Fu
Here we part.
You go off in the distance,
And once more the forested mountains
Are empty, unfriendly.
What holiday will see us
Drunk together again?
Last night we walked
Arm in arm in the moonlight,
Singing sentimental ballads
Along the banks of the river.
Your honor outlasts three emperors.
I go back to my lonely house by the river,
Mute, friendless, feeding the crumbling years.
Thoughts While Traveling By Night by Tu Fu
Slender grass, light breeze on the banks.
Tall mast, a solitary night on board.
A falling star, and the vast plain broader.
Surging moon, on the Great River flows.
Can fame grow from the written word alone?
This officer, both old and sick, must let that be.
Afloat, afloat, just so. . .
Heaven, and Earth, and one black gull.
Song Of Picking Mulberry by Xin Qi-ji
While young, I knew no grief I could not bear,
I’d like to go upstair.
I’d like to go upstair
To write new verses, with a false despair.
I know what grief is now that I am old,
I would not have it told.
I would not have it told
But only say I’m glad that autumn’s cold.
Thoughts In Night Quiet by Li Bai
Seeing moonlight here at my bed,
and thinking it’s frost on the ground.
I look up, gaze at the mountain moon,
then back, dreaming of my old home.
translated by David Hinton
a bit of philosophy from Li Bai
How could I lower my eyebrows, bend my waist to serve those with power and wealth,
And deny myself the joys of a smiling face and a buoyant heart?
translated by Wu-chi Liu
A Note On A Rainy Night To A Friend In The North by Li Shang-yin
You ask me when I am coming, I do not know.
I dream of your mountains and autumn pools brimming all night with the rain.
Oh, when shall we be trimming wicks again, together in your western window?
When shall I be hearing your voice again, all night in the rain?
translated by Wittner Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
Leonard Durso 