Autumn wind clear,
autumn moon bright,

fallen leaves gather in piles, then scatter,
and crows settling-in, cold, startle away.

Will we ever see, ever even think of each other again?
This night, this moment: impossible to feel it all.

translated by David Hinton

2

In the Po-ko night, a long wind howls.
Streams and valleys turn suddenly cold.

Fish and dragons roaming shoreline waters,
billows surge and waves swell everywhere.

Though heaven’s loaned its moon, bright
moon come soaring over emerald clouds,

I can’t see my old home anywhere. Heart-
stricken, I face west and look and look.

translated by David Hinton

1

Where could evening wandering be so fine?
Here along Po-ko shores, the moon bright,

mountain light trembles on drifted snow,
and gibbon shadow hangs from cold branches.

Only when this exquisite light dies away,
only then I turn my oars and start back.

When I came, it was such bright clear joy.
Now, it’s all these thoughts of you again.

translated by David Hinton

I love this T’ung-kuan joy. A thousand
years, and still I’d never leave here.

It makes me dance, my swirling sleeves
sweeping all Five-Pine Mountain clean.

Translated by David Hinton

On a white horse bridled in gold, I go east of Liao-hai,
spread embroidered quilts, fall asleep in spring winds.

The moon sets, lighting my porch, probing dark lamps.
Blossoms drift through the door, smile on my empty bed.

translated by David Hinton

After wine, I go out into the fields,
wander open country—singing,

asking myself how green grass
could be a white-haired old man.

But looking into a bright mirror,
I see him in my failing hair too.

Blossom scent seems to scold me.
I let grief go, and face east winds.

translated by David Hinton

From the walls of Po-ti high in the coloured dawn
To Kiang-ling by night-fall is three hundred miles,
Yet monkeys are still calling on both banks behind me
To my boat these ten thousand mountains away.

Translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu

My friendship with Lu was the dearest of my life
when he arrived in Hengyang his body multiplied
suddenly from your sleeve some lines of his appeared
seeing my old friend I had to wipe the tears

translated by Red Pine

Long ago a white-haired gentleman
You made the present of a black gauze hat.
The gauze hat still sits on my head;
But you already are gone to the Nether Springs.
The thing is old, but still fit to wear;
The man is gone and will never be seen again.
Out on the hill the moon is shining to-night
And the trees on your tomb are swayed by the autumn wind.

translated by Arthur Waley

A hundred mountains and no bird,
A thousand paths without a footprint;
A little boat, a bamboo cloak,
An old man fishing in the cold river-snow.

translated by Witter Bynner & Kiang Kang-hu