In what dynasty, under what emperor,
did we live without war?
And in every war
every man dreamed of peace.
And now the farmer
finds more bones than soil.
And here comes the draft board,
wanting more bodies.
translated by Sam Hamill
WEi Chuang
from Deva-like Barbarian: Lyric 1 by Wei Chuang
The night of our parting in the red tower is enough for sorrow;
By the fragrant lamp, the tasseled screen is but half rolled up.
As I leave the moon is just fading;
She says goodbye mixed with tears.
The guitar is ornamented with gold and kingfisher feathers;
From its strings come the caroling cries of orioles.
Urging me to return soon,
She is like a flower in the window!
translated by Lois M. Fusek
from Sand of Silk-washing Stream: Lyric 3 by Wei Chuang
I wake in sad reverie; the moon is slating over the mountain;
A single lamp shines on the wall from behind the window curtain;
The beautiful one lives in a high apartment in the small tower.
I think of her lovely jade-like face–how shall I compare it?
A branch of cold plum blossoms in the spring snow.
The fragrant mist of her body is like the gathered clouds of dawn.
translated by Lois M. Fusek
from Deva-like Barbarian, Five Lyrics: Lyric Five by Wei Chunang
Spring is bright and splendid in the city of Lo-yang;
But the man of Lo-yang grows old in another land.
The willows darken on the Prince of Wei’s embankment;
At this time I am confused and bewildered.
Alongside the blossoming peach, the spring waters run clear;
Mandarin ducks bathe in their freshness.
My regret gathers force in the setting sun;
I think of you, but you do not know it.
translated by Lois M. Fusek
from “Deva-like Barbarian,” Five Lyrics by Wei Chuang
Everyone says it is good to live south of the Yangtze;
The traveler can but stay there until he grows old.
The spring waters are more blue than the heavens;
On the painted boat drowsily I listen to the rain.
The girl who pours wine is like the moon;
Her wrists are as bright as frosted snow.
If you are not yet old, don’t return home;
To return home is to be broken hearted!
translated by Lois M. Fusek
from Sand of Silk-washing Stream, Five Lyrics by Wei Chuang
Every night I think of you until the water clock fades;
Sadly, under the bright moon, I lean against the balcony;
I think you too feel the cold in your lonely quilt.
A short foot away, the painted hall is as deep as the sea;
In remembrance I have only your old letters to read;
When can we be together, hand in hand, in Ch’ang-an?
translated by Lois M. Fusek
Leonard Durso 