River’s glint and mountain mist were floating in green;
At sunset we made to return, they stayed a little longer.
Hereafter this scene shall always enter into my dreams;
In dreams I can wander with my old friends.
translated by Jan W. Walls
Sung Dynasty
worth posting again: Self-Portrait In Praise by Wang An-shih
Things aren’t other than they are.
I am today whoever I was long ago,
and if I can be described, it’s as this
perfect likeness of all these things.
translated by David Hinton
Thoughts as I Lie Alone by Wang An-shih
Alone, a noon dove calling in spring
shade, I lie in a valley of forest quiet.
Scraps of cloud pass, scattering rain,
and I listen, late in life, to its clatter.
Eyes full of red and green confusion,
our sad times unraveling my legacy,
there’s no word near these thoughts
still as Bell Mountain in its slumber.
translated by David Hinton
Leaving the City by Wang An-shih
I’ve lived in the country long enough to know its wild joys:
it feels like I’m a child back home in my old village again.
Leaving the city today, I put all that gritty dust behind me,
and facing mountains and valleys, feel them enter my eyes.
translated by David Hinton
With my goosefoot staff by Wang An-shih
With my goosefoot staff, I wander the stream winding around
East Ridge. When interest fades, I go home to bed. But in dream,
emperors Yao and Chieh sometimes appear: one noble, one vile.
So my practice isn’t over. There are a few last things to forget.
translated by David Hinton
Aboard a Boat at Night, Drinking with My Wife by Mei Yao-ch’en
The moon appears from the mouth of the sheer bluff,
its light shining behind the boat over there.
I sit drinking alone with my wife;
how much better than facing some dreary stranger!
The moonlight slowly spreads over our mat,
dark shadows bit by bit receding.
What need is there to fetch a torch?
We’ve joy enough in this light alone.
translated by Burton Watson
By The Yangtze River by Li Zhiyi
I’m living upstream and you downstream
Day by day, you are the one I am missing.
Even if we can’t meet,
We are in the same drink.
The time when the water stops flowing,
Is the time of the end of my grief.
I’m wishing your heart was also missing me.
Then my pining for you has a meaning.
translated by Edison Lai
Thanks to Qiaoen for sharing this.
To the Melody A Blooming Plum by Li Qingzhao
The Fragrant red lotuses have Withered away,
My jade-like mat turns cool on autumn day
Lightly putting off my skirt or silky coat,
Alone I boarded the pretty boat
Looking back, the wild geese fly
Who’s to send me a letter through clouds sky?
My west chamber window’s full of moonlight
Flowers drift alone out of the smell
The creek running alone is natural
There’s one kind of love sickness
Coming from two places with sadness
No way could cure such a sickness
Just falling down from my eyebrows
Into my heart with sorrows
translated by Zhu Manhua
with thanks to Qiaoen for passing it my way
from Rhyming with Tzu-yu’s “Silkworm Fair” by Su Tung-p’o
I remember long ago when you and I were boys;
each year we dropped our books and raced to the fair.
Peddlers outdid each other hawking goods;
peasants stood gaping, ripe to be cheated–
when your poem came it brought back those times again.
I grieve less for home than for the years that are lost.
translated by Burton Watson
Spring Evening on Pan Mountain by Wang An-shih
Spring breezes erase the flowers,
leaving me in a state of yin.
This quiet downhill road leads by
a half-hidden bower where I’ll make my bed.
Straw sandals, a walking stick–
I wander the world alone,
only a few northern birds pass by
like the memory of a beautiful song.
translated by Sam Hamill
