Thinking of you, in autumn night,
Strolling, chanting the cool air.
Empty mountain: pine cones fall.
Secluded man: staying up, still?
translated by Wai-lim Yip
Wei Ying-wu
The Call of the Cuckoo by Wei Ying-wu
Dew drips from tall trees on a clear summer night
in the hills to the south a cuckoo calls
the widow next door comforts her child
I turn in bed and wait for first light
translated by Red Pine
Events on West Stream: For Lu She by Wei Ting-wu
My bedroom door overlooks a jade stream
the stillness of dawn drives cares away
a fine rain reaches deserted woods
ripples spread across the water
nothing else happens all day
in the mountains the sound of an axe
you’ve lived amid dust and noise too long
come loosen those troublesome hat strings awhile
translated by Red Pine
Facing Snow in Early Spring: To Former Palace Censor Yuan by Wei Ying-wu
I swept the snow from my secluled path
living retired I look for old friends
I still have some solstice wine left
and plum blossoms are early this spring
how long shall we wander outside the east wall
and which day along that winding stream
take some time off and spend it on pleasure
don’t wait until you’re wearing new robes
translated by Red Pine
reflecting on how difficult it is to maintain one’s principles among unprincipled people, I turned to my old friend Wei Ying-wu for comfort and understanding: Seeing Off Censor Chang of the Palace Library Leaving for Chiangtso to Care for His Parents by Wei Ying-wu
Don’t sigh about the road beyond the city gate
or that you won’t be coming back in a carriage
your brocade robes are there in your trunk
along with your books from rue-scented halls
with red rice grown in a well-watered land
and whitefish fresh from the Yangtze
your breakfasts can also be offerings
what good is longing for fortune and fame
translated by Red Pine
To Supernumerary Ts’ui by Wei Ying-wu
Ten years after we parted
we meet on the shores of Huaihai
recalling our days in Loyang
we discuss perfecture colleagues
and facing cups of fine wine
wish our white hair was new
where are you hurrying off to
braving the dust and wind of the road
translted by Red Pine
Passing Our Old Place in Chaokuo Quarter by Wei Ying-wu
Passing our old home
I don’t see anyone I know
things have changed and the air feels warm
my heart suffers from the loneliness of the season
this pond is choked with wild bamboo
the courtyard is overgrown with unfamiliar plants
the wind scatters fading flowers
birds return to darkening hills
in the past we enjoyed this together
how strange to be recalling those times
her room in the eastern wing is closed
I can’t bear to look at the things she left
her calligraphy brush and writing kit
her perfumed scarf still damp
tools she left in her chest
pieces of silk she cut with her knife
I collected these things to bring back
but bringing them back would just cause more grief
parted forever from the joys we shared
why keep the traces she left behind
words can’t express something so dark
and to that distant place I can’t go
but the past and the present I think are one
and time soothes heartache and sorrow
translated by Red Pine
