Spring, napped, unconscious of the dawn.
Everywhere, birdsong.
Night sounded, wind, and rain.
How many petals, now, are fallen?
translated by J.P. Seaton
Meng Hao-jan
Mourning Meng Hao-jan by Wang Wei
My dear friend nowhere in sight,
this Han River keeps flowing east.
Now, if I look for old masters here,
I find empty rivers and mountains.
translated by David Hinton
Sent to Ch’ao, the Palace Reviser by Meng Hao-jan
You polish words in rue-scented libraries,
and I live in bamboo-leaf gardens, a recluse
wandering every day the same winding path
home to rest in the quiet, no noise anywhere.
A bird soaring the heights can choose a tree,
but the hedge soon tangles impetuous goats.
Today, things seen becoming thoughts felt:
this is where you start forgetting the words.
translated by David Hinton
Spring Dawn by Meng Hao-jan
Sleeping in spring oblivious of dawn
everywhere I hear birds
after the wind and rain last night
I wonder how many petals fell
translated by Red Pine
Seeing Off Chu Ta Leaving For Ch’in by Meng Hao-jan
For an unemployed gentleman bound for Wuling
a first-rsate sword is worth a ton of gold
I remove this in parting and give it to you
a simple piece of my heart
translated by Red Pine
Leonard Durso 