A river moon only a few feet away, storm-lanterns
alight late in the second watch. . .Serene
flock of fists on sand–egrets asleep when
a fish leaps in the boat’s wake, shivering, cry.
translated by David Hinton
T’ang Dynasty
The Bamboo By Li Ch’e Yun’s Window by Po Chü-i
Don’t cut it to make a flute.
Don’t trim it for a fishing
Pole. When the grass and flowers
Are all gone, it will be beautiful
Under the falling snow flakes.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
River Snow by Liu Tsung-yuan
A thousand mountains, no birds fly.
Ten thousand paths, no footprints.
Lone skiff, rush-cloaked old man.
Fishing alone, cold river snow.
translated by J.P. Seaton
A different translation of this poem but as Mary Tang would say, That’s what makes translations so interesting.
First Month: at Ch’ung-jang House by Li Shang-yin
Secret behind locks and double bars, covered with green moss.
In the deepest corridors, innermost chambers, pacing to and fro.
A presage that the wind will rise–the halo round the moon.
The season of cold dews still, the buds unopened.
A bar sweeps past the flap of the blind. Endless tossing and turning.
A mouse unsettles the cobweb on the window, startles with brief suspicions.
With the lamp at my back I talk alone to a fragrance still in the air,
And unawares, just as before, sing Rise in the Night and Come.
translated by A.C. Graham
untitled love poem by Li Shang-yin
Coming was an empty promise, you have gone, and left no footprints:
The moonlight slants above the roof, already the fifth watch sounds.
Dreams of remote partings, cries which cannot summon,
Hurrying to finish the letter, ink which will not thicken.
The light of the candle half encloses kingfishers threaded with gold,
The smell of musk comes faintly through embroidered water-lilies.
Young Liu complained that Fairy Hill is far.
Past Fairy Hill, range above range, ten thousand mountains rise.
translated by A.C. Graham
from Pond in a Bowl by Han Yü
Alright, my pond mirrors sky, azure into azure.
I just pour in a few jars of water, fill it brimful,
then wait. Evening deepens and the moon sets,
and look, swimming down there: all those stars!
translated by David Hinton
In Reply to Chia P’eng of the Mountains, Sent Upon Seeing That the Pine He Planted Outside My Office Has Begun to Prosper by Liu Tsung-yüan
Flourish and ruin keep leaving each other,
but no-mind stays, dark-enigma’s fruition.
The bloom of youth scatters steadily away
and grandeur crumbles to its tranquil end,
but mountain streams continue here in this
green pine you brought to this courtyard,
deep snows showing off its radiant beauty
and cold blossoms its kingfisher-greens.
At dawn, even a pure recluse must yearn:
now, I just invite clear wind for company.
translated by David Hinton
Spring Morning by Meng Hao-jan
Spring, napped, unconscious of the dawn.
Everywhere, birdsong.
Night sounded, wind, and rain.
How many petals, now, are fallen?
translated by J.P. Seaton
from Water Sifting Sand: No. 4 by Po Chü-i
A day will no doubt come when dust flies at the bottom of seas,
and how can mountaintops avoid the transformation to gravel?
Young lovers may part, a man leaving, setting out on some boat,
but who can say they’ll never come together again one day?
translated by David Hinton
Birdsong Brook by Wang Wei
Mind at peace, cassia flowers fall,
Night still, spring mountain empty.
Moon rising startles mountain birds
Now and again sing from spring brook.
translated by Irving Y. Lo
Leonard Durso 