A stream of pure water can soothe a poet’s soul
it alone knows how warm or cold the years have been
flowing into West Lake it carries entertainers
looking back it’s changed since the mountains
translated by Red Pine
Sung Dynasty
Climbing to Canopy Pavilion on a Summer Day by Ts’ai Ch’ueh
A paper screen a stone pillow a square bamboo bed
a book falls from my hand during a midday dream
I wake up pleased and smile to myself
at the sound of a fisherman’s lute on the waves
translated by Red Pine
Drinking on the Lake As It Clears Then Rains by Su Shih
The shimmering waves are translucent when it clears
the mist-veiled hills are transcendent when it rains
I think of West Lake as the Beauty of the West
equally lovely in powder or paint
translated by Red Pine
Spring Ends by Li Ch’ing-chao
The wind stops.
Nothing is left of Spring but fragrant dust.
Although it is late in the day,
I have been too exhausted to comb my hair.
Our furniture is just the same,
But he no longer exists.
I am unable to do anything at all,
Before I can speak my tears choke me.
I hear that Spring at Two Rivers
Is still beautiful.
I had hoped to take a boat there,
But I am afraid my little boat
Is too small to ever reach Two Rivers,
Laden with my heavy heart.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth & Ling Chung
Tune: “Immortal at the River” by Su Shi
Drinking at Eastern Slope by 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.
translated by Xu Yuan-zhong
The Turning Year by Su Tung P’o (Su Shi)
Nightfall. Clouds scatter and vanish.
The sky is pure and cold.
Silently the River of Heaven turns in the Jade Vault.
If tonight I do not enjoy life to the full,
Next month, next year, who knows where I will be?
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
The End of the Year by Su Tung P’o (Su Shi)
When a friend starts on a journey of a thousand miles,
As he is about to leave, he delays again and again.
When men part, they feel they may never meet again.
When a year has gone, how will you ever find it again?
I wonder where it has gone, this year that is ended?
Certainly someplace far beyond the horizon.
It is gone like a river which flows to the East,
And empties into the sea without hope of return.
My neighbors on the left are heating wine.
On the right they are roasting a fat pig.
They will have one day of joy
As recompense for a whole year of trouble.
Will we leave so carelessly the years to come?
Everything passes, everything
Goes, and never looks back,
And we grow older and less strong.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
Thoughts While Reading by Chu Hsi
The mirror of the pond gleams,
Half an acre in size.
The splendor of the sky,
And the whiteness of the clouds
Are reflected back upon themselves.
I ask the pond where I can find
Anything else as pure and transparent.
“Only in the springs of the water of life.”
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
East Wind by Ou Yang Hsiu
The burgeoning trees are thick with leaves.
The birds are singing on all the hills.
The east wind blows softly.
The birds sing, the flowers dance.
This minor magistrate is drunk.
Tomorrow when he wakes up,
Spring will no longer be new.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
In A Dream by Lu Yu
The shadows of the t’ung tree, glistening and clear,
having just passed,
Bells under the eaves tinkle in the wind,
breaking off my daytime sleep.
In a dream I found myself in a painted hall with no one around,
And only a pair of swallows softly treading zither strings.
translated by Irving, Y. Lo
Leonard Durso 