Thinking of you, in autumn night,
Strolling, chanting the cool air.
Empty mountain: pine cones fall.
Secluded man: staying up, still?
translated by Wai-lim Yip
T’ang Dynasty
Hearing the Flute in the City of Loyang in a Spring Night by Li Po
Whose jade-flute is this, notes flying invisibly
Scatter into spring winds, filling City of Loyang?
Hearing the “Break-a-Willow-Twig” tonight,
Who can withhold the surge of thoughts of home?
ytranslated by Wai-lim Yip
To See A Friend Off by Wang Wei
Dismount and drink this wine.
Where to? I ask.
At odds with the world:
Return to rest by the South Hill.
Go. Go. Do not ask again.
Endless, the white clouds.
translated by Wai-lim Yip
A Country Road by Li Ho
Fragrant fireweed grows in the rain.
Tonight, August nears the mountains,
they bloom in lonely places.
Moss and grass slowly overtake
this stony rutted road
I craved eight years ago.
translated by Sam Hamill
Lu-lung Village, Autumn by Hsu Hsuan
Refusing worldly worries,
I stroll among village strollers.
Pine winds sing, the evening village
smells of grass, autumn in the air.
A lone bird roams down the sky.
Clouds roll across the river.
You want to know my name?
A hill. A tree. An empty drifting boat.
translated by Sam Hamill
To the Tune: In the Hills by Hsueh Chao-yun
At Ch’ang-men, the grass is green,
jade stairs shimmering under dew.
Mist softens the moonlight.
East winds drown a sorrowful flute.
The water clock marks time.
Outside, orioles greet the dawn.
I wake in the night
Grief-stricken, in tears,
exhausted, just exhausted.
My grip crushes my robe.
Once again, my mind settles over you
like dust settles over our scrolls.
translated by Sam Hamill
Running from Trouble by Tu Fu
Barely fifty, but already my face is old, hair white.
I traveled this whole coast fleeing the state.
Rough cloth saved my shivering bones
as I roamed the awful cold.
Thus began the years of my disease.
Everywhere, people were mud and ash.
Between heaven and earth,
there’s nowhere a body is safe.
I see my wife and children follow.
We sigh for mutual sorrows.
My old home gone to weeds,
and all my neighbors scattered,
we may never find the road back home.
We add our tears to the river.
translated by Sam Hamill
