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
Chinese poetry
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.
Returning to Lingao by Night by Su Shi
Drinking at Eastern Slope at night,
I sober, then get drunk again.
When I come back, it’s near midnight.
I hear the thunder of my houseboy’s snore,
I knock but no one answers at my door.
What can I do but, leaning on my cane,
Listen to the river’s refrain?
I long regret I am not master of my own.
When can I just ignore the hums of up and down?
In the still night the soft winds quiver
On the ripples of the river.
From now on, I would vanish with my little boat,
For the rest of my life, on the sea I would float.
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.
Lines Three, Five, Seven Words Long by Li Bai
Autumn wind clear,
autumn moon bright,
fallen leaves gather in piles, then scatter,
and crows settling-in, cold, startle away.
Will we ever see, ever even think of each other again?
This night, this moment: impossible to feel it all.
The Inlaid Harp by Li Shang-Yin
I wonder why my inlaid harp has fifty strings,
Each with its flower-like fret an interval of youth.
. . . The sage Chuang-tzu is day-dreaming, bewitched by butterflies,
The spring-heart of Emperor Wang is crying in a cuckoo,
Mermen weep their pearly tears down a moon-green sea,
Blue fields are breathing their jade to the sun. . .
And a moment that ought to have lasted for ever
Has come and gone before I knew.
translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu
Drinking Alone Beneath The Moon by Li Bei
A pot of wine among the flowers:
I drink alone, no kith or kin near.
I raise my cup to invite the moon to join me;
It and my shadow make a party of three.
Alas, the moon is unconcerned about drinking,
And my shadow merely follows me around.
Briefly I cavort with the moon and my shadow:
Pleasure must be sought while it is spring.
I sing and the moon goes back and forth,
I dance and my shadow falls at random.
While sober we seek pleasure in fellowship;
When drunk we go each our own way.
Then let us pledge a friendship without human ties
And meet again at the far end of the Milky Way.
Night Thoughts Aboard A Boat by Tu Fu
A bank of fine grass and light breeze
A tall-masted solitary night boat.
Stars descend over the vast wild plain;
The moon bobs in the Great River’s flow.
Fame: is it ever to be won in literature?
Office: I should give up, old and sick.
Floating, floating, what am I like?
Between earth and sky, a gull alone.
translated by James J.Y. Liu & Irving Y. Lo
Tune: Joy at Meeting by Li Yu
Silent, I climb the Western Tower alone
And see the hook-like moon.
Parasol-trees lonesome and drear
Lock in the courtyard autumn clear.
Cut, it won’t sever;
Be ruled, ’twill never
What sorrow ’tis to part!
It’s an unspeakable taste in the heart.
Leonard Durso 