I’m still lingering on, my climb unfinished,
as the sun sinks away west of peaks galore.
translated by David Hinton
T’ang Dynasty
Spring Dawn by Meng Hao-jan
Spring sleep, not yet awake to dawn,
I am full of birdsongs.
Throughout the night the sounds of wind and rain
Who knows what flowers fell.
translated by Gary Snyder
Late Spring Improvisation by Yu Xuanji
Very few visitors or lovers
come through this alley to this hidden door
and as for someone I can really cherish
I meet him only in dreams
perfumed gauze and damask–
whose empty seat at the banquet?
songs carried on the wind–
coming from what pavilion?
around here it’s mostly army drums
disrupting morning sleep
nothing but magpies in the courtyard
clattering through spring sorrow
how could I hope to have any part
in the world of grand events
my own life at such a distance
and no place to tie up my boat?
translated by David Yooung & Jiann I. Lin
Saying Goodbye by Yu Xuanji
Several nights in this gorgeous pavilion
and I began to have expectations
until my darling surprised me
he had to be off on a journey
so I sleep alone and don’t discuss
the whereabouts of clouds
around the lamp, now almost spent,
one lost moth is circling.
translated by David Young & Jiann I. Lin
TheYinwu Pavilion by Yu Xuanji
Blossoms of spring, the autumn moon–
you have to turn them into poems
the bright days, the clear nights–
you feel surrounded by floating gods
I rolled up the curtain idly
and never rolled it back
I moved my couch to face the mountains
and slept here from then on.
translated by David Young & Jiann I. Lin
At the Pavilion on Grand-View Mountain, Sent to Chang Tzu-jung at Flourish Ridge by Meng Hao-jan
On the summit, sudden winds wild,
a cloud sails by like a startled bird.
Standing at the guardrail, I wonder:
is it old Chang coming back home?
translated by David Hinton
After Chang Yüan’s Clear Mirror Lament by Meng Hao-jan
This mirror of mine all coiled dragons:
its clarity was pure radiance every day,
then gathering the dust of this world
it soon blurred to a moon adrift in mist.
When grief comes, I look to that light,
but find only white hair and lament
and you in borderland distances. Tell me,
How could farewell go so long and far?
translated by David Hinton
Wandering the West Ridge at Phoenix-Grove Monastery by Meng Hao-jan
Savoring the year’s lovely bloom together,
we come wandering among water and rock.
Forest distances open through depths of mist,
colors of spring crowding recluse mountains,
and in wine our thoughts find such accord,
ch’in song filling these joys with idleness.
Don’t worry about dark roads. We’ll invite
old moon: always a friend for the way home.
translated by David Hinton
Spring Dawn by Meng Hao-jan
In spring sleep, dawn arrives unnoticed.
Suddenly, all around, I hear birds in song.
A loud night. Wind and rain came, tearing
blossoms down. Who knows few or many?
translated by David Hinton
Thinking of Us by Wang Wei
Red beans grow in the south
In spring they put out shoots.
Gather a lapful for me–
And doing it, think of us.
translated by Gary Synder
Leonard Durso 