Suddenly aware that the good year is almost over,
Sitting down, I look at the chilling leaves fall.
I cannot even be like the decayed grasses
That whirl up and transform into fireflies.
translated by C.H. Wang
T’ang Dynasty
At Horizon’s End, Thinking of Li Po by Tu Fu
Chill wind stirs at horizon’s end:
My friend, what news?
When will the geese arrive?
Autumn swells river and stream.
Writers abhor worldly success;
Mountain demons like to entrap us.
Perhaps we should talk with the abused soul,
By sending a poem to the River Mi-lo.
translated by Eugene Eoyang
from The Road to Shu Is Hard by Li Po
The Brocade City might be a place for pleasure,
But it’s far better to hurry home.
The road to Shu is hard, harder than climbing to the heavens.
Sideways I look westward and heave a long sigh.
translated b y Irving Y. Lo
from Seven Songs Written While Living at T’ung-ku in 759 : 7 by Tu Fu
I am a man who’s made no name, already I’ve grown old,
Wandering hungry three years on barren mountain roads,
In Ch’ang-an the ministers are all young men;
Wealth and fame must be earned before a man grows old.
In the mountains here are scholars who knew me long ago.
We only think of the good old days, our hearts full of pain.
Alas! This is my seventh song, oh! with sorrow I end the refrain,
Looking up to the wide sky where the white sun rushes on.
translated by Geoffrey Waters
Returning Home after a Trip by Wei Ying-wu
In the past I was glad to come home
but to sadness I now return
entering our closed sunless room
I stifle my grief and write the epitaph
I lift the dark curtain in pain
startled by a cold desolate breeze
our younger daughter doesn’t realize
she still comes into the courtyard to play
I sigh every day feeling older
dazed by the transience of life
my relatives urge me to eat
at the table my tears fall in vain
translated by Red Pine
Cold Food Days: To My Cousins in the Capital by Wei Ying-wu
My empty rooms are bleak on a rainy day with fire banned
I sit alone and listen to orioles by the river
I’ve had the wine and seen the flowers but think about my cousins
Cold Food Day on Tuling the grass by now is green
translated by Red Pine
NOTE: Cold Food was the name given to a 3 day period in April when fires were banned.
Events on the Huai: To a Dear Friend in Kuangling by Wei Ying-wu
The earlier boat is already faint
I was hoping to cross but it wouldn’t wait
from autumn hills comes the evening bell
it’s raining in Ch’u all the way to the sea
the windblown waves recall our parting
the way I once looked has changed
a lone bird heading southeast
asks the way to Kuangling
translated by Red Pine
from dreaming of Li Po, Two Poems: from 1 by Tu Fu
Old friend, you appeared in a dream,
It shows you have long been in my thoughts.
Perhaps it wasn’t your living soul:
The way’s too far, it couldn’t be done.
Your spirit came: and the maples were green:
Your spirit left: the mountain pass darkened.
Friend, now that you’re ensnared down there,
How did you manage to wing away?
Moonlight shines full on the rafters,
Yet I wonder if it isn’t your reflection.
The waters are deep, the waves expansive:
Don’t let the water dragon get you!
translated by Eugene Eoyang
The Pa River by Po Chü-i
Below the city, where the Pa River’s water flows,
spring comes like yeast-powder spiriting wine:
beaches feel soft as the Wei’s meandering shores,
and cliffs bring memories of T’ien-chin Bridge,
but fresh yellow willows dip their shadows here,
and tiny white duckweed blossoms scent the air.
Sitting beside swelling water, I scratch my head:
all this grief and sorrow, and whose is it anyway?
translated by David Hinton
Farewell to My Day Lilies and Cassia by Po Chü-i
No longer Prefect, this isn’t home anymore.
I planted day lillies and cassia for nothing.
Cassia renowned for enticing us to stay on,
day-lilies never making it sorrow forgotten:
they’re a far cry from this riverside moon,
come lingering our farewell step after step.
translated by David Hinton
Leonard Durso 