“Drinking Alone Beneath the Moon” (1)
by
Li Bai (701-762)
A pot of wine
among the flowers:
I drink alone,
no kith or kin near.
I raise my cup
to invite the moon to join me;
It and my
shadow make a party of three.
Also, the moon
is unconcerned about drinking,
And my shadow
merely follows me around.
Briefly I
cavort with the moon and my shadow:
Pleasure must
be sought while it is spring.
I sing and the
moon goes back and forth,
I dance and my
shadow falls at random.
While sober we
seek pleasure in fellowship;
When drunk we
go each our own way.
Then let us
pledge a friendship without human ties
And meet again
at the far end of the Milky Way.
“Drinking Alone Beneath the Moon” (2)
If Heaven
weren’t fond of wine
Wine Star
would not be found in Heaven.
If Earth
weren’t fond of wine
There could be
no Wine Spring on earth.
Since Heaven
and Earth are fond of wine,
Then being
fond of wine, I can’t be judged wrong
Clear wine,
I’ve heard, is compared to sages,
Also the
unstained wine spoken of as worthies.
Since I have
drunk both sages and worthies
Why must I
seek out the immortals?
Three cups
penetrate the Great Truth;
One gallon
accords with Nature’s laws.
Simply find
pleasure in wine:
Speak not of
it to the sober one.
“Sitting Alone in Jingting Mountain”
Flocks of
birds fly high and vanish;
A single
cloud, alone, calmly drifts on.
Never tired of
looking at each other---
Only the
Jingting Mountain and me.
“Climbing Phoenix Terrace at Jinling”
The phoenix
birds once frolicked on Phoenix Terrace.
Flourishing
flowers of Wu Palace are buried beneath…
Caps and gowns
of Chin times all lie in ancient mounds.
The
Three-peaked Mountain half visible under the blue…
The tow-forked
stream separated by White-egret Isle.
It’s always
the clouds that block the sun,
I do not see
Chang’an and I grieve.
“In The Mountains: A Reply to the Vulgar”
They ask me
where’s the sense on jasper mountains?
I laugh and
don’t reply in heart’s own quiet:
Peach petals
float their streams away in secret
To other skies
and earths than those of mortals.
“Wine Will Be Served”
Do you not see
the waters of the Yellow River,
coming down
from Heaven,
Rush and roll
into the sea, never to return?
Do you not see
how men mourn their white hair at
the
bright mirror in the great hall—
What was
silken black in the morning has turned
to snow by
night?
To be elated
in life, one should enjoy oneself to the full
And never let
the golden goblet stand empty
toward
the moon.
My
Heaven-endowed talents must have their use;
Throw away a
thousand gold coins,
and they will
all return.
Roast the
sheep, slaughter the ox!
Let’s
take out pleasure,
And with one
long drink, empty three hundred cups!
Young scholar
Dan-qiu, Master Cen,
Wine will be
served:
Don’t stop
drinking!
Let me sing
you a song;
Please incline
your ear to listen.
Bells, drums,
and jade vessels are not to be treasured;
One desires
only to be forever drunk,
never
to be sober again.
The sages of
older times are all still and lonely,
Only the great
drinkers have let their behind.
Prince Chen
once gave a feast at the
Temple of
Peace and Joy;
A cask of wine
worth ten thousand cash,
they drink,
indulging in mirth and jest.
Why should the
host say he has no money?
Go and fetch
wine to drink with you.
The
five-colored horse,
Ten thousand
gold fur---
Let’s call the
boy to take them out and
pawn
them for good wine,
That drinking
together we may dispel
the sorrows of
myriad years!
“Bring the
Wine!”
trans. Burton
Watson
Have you never
seen
The Yellow
River waters descending from the sky,
Racing restless
toward the ocean, never to return?
Have you never
seen
Bright mirrors
in high hall, the white-haired ones lamenting,
Their black
silk of morning by evening turned to snow?
If life is to
have meaning, seize every joy you can;
Do not let the
golden cask sit idle in the moonlight!
Heaven gave me
talents and meant them to be used
Gold scattered
by the thousand comes home to me again.
Boil the
mutton, roast the ox—we will be merry,
At one bout no
less than three hundred cups.
Master Cen!
Scholar Danzhu
Bring wine and
no lelay
For you I’ll
sing a song—
Be pleased to
bend your ears and hear.
Bells and
drums, food rare as jade—these aren’t worth prizing,
All I ask is
to be drunk forever, never to sober up!!
Sages and
worthies from antiquity—all gone into silence;
Only the great
drinkers have left a name behind.
The Prince of
Chen once feasted in the Hall of Calm Delight;
Wine, ten
thousand coins a cask, flowed for his reveler’s joy.
Why does my
host tell me the money has run out?
Buy more wine
at once—my friends have cups to be refilled!
My dappled
mount,
My furs worth
a thousand—
Call the boy,
have him take them and barter for fine wine!
Together we’ll
wash away ten thousand years of care.
“Still
Night Thoughts”
trans. Burton
Watson
Moonlight in
front of my bed—
I took it for
frost on the ground!
I lift my eyes
to watch the mountain moon,
Lower them and
dream of home.
“Seeing a
Friend Off”
trans. Burton
Watson
Green hills sloping
from the northern wall,
White water
rounding the eastern city:
Once parted
from this place
The lone weed
tumbles ten thousand miles
Drifting
clouds—a traveler’s thoughts;
Setting sun—an
old friend’s ehart.
Wave hands and
lets us take leave now,
Xiao-xiao our
hesitant hoses neighing.
“The Ballad of Chang’gan”
I with my hair
fringed on my forehead,
Breaking
blossom, was romping outside:
And you rode
up on your bamboo steed,
Round garden
beds we juggled green plums;
Living alike
in Chang’gan village
We were both
small, without doubts or guile….
When at
fourteen I became your bride
I was bashful
and could only hide
My face and
frown against a dark wall:
A thousand
calls, not once did I turn;
I was fifteen
before I could smile,
Long to be
one, like dust with ashes:
You’d ever
stand by pillar faithful,
I’d never
climb the Watcher’s Mountain!
I am sixteen
but you went away
Through Qutang
Gorge, passing Yanyu Rock
And when in
June it should not be passed,
Where the
gibbons cried high above you.
Here by the
door our farewell footprints,
They one by
one are growing green moss,
The moss so
thick I cannot sweep it,
And fallen
leaves: Autumn winds came soon!
September now:
yellow butterflies
Flying in
pairs in the west garden;
And what I
feel hurts me in my heart,
Sadness to
make a pretty face old…
Late or early
coming from San-pa
Before you
come, write me a letter
To welcome
you, don’t talk of distance,
I’ll go as far
as the Long Wind Sands!
“Viewing
the Waterfall at Mount Lu”
trans. Burton
Watson
Sunlight
streaming on Incense Stone kindles violet smoke;
Far off I
watch the waterfall plunge to the long river,
Flying waters
descending straight three thousand feet,
Till I think
the Milky Way has tumble from the ninth height of Heaven.
“Dreaming of Li Po, Two Poems”
by
Du Fu (712-770)
(I)
Parted by
death, we swallow remorse;
Apart in life,
we always suffer.
South of the
river, miasmal place,
From the
banished exile, not a word!
Old friend,
your 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 ere 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!
“Dreaming
of Li Bai”
trans. Burton
Watson
Parting from
the dead, I’ve stifled my sobs,
But this
parting from the living brings me constant pain
South of the
Yangtze is a land of plague and fever;
No word comes
from the exile.
Yet my old
friend has entered my dreams,
Proof of how
long I’ve pined for him.
He didn’t look
the way he used to,
The road so
far—father than I can guess.
His spirit
came from where the maple groves are green
Then went
back, leaving me in borderland blackness.
Now you’re
caught in the meshes of the law—
How could you
have wings to fly with?
The sinking
moon floods the rafters of my room
And still I
seem to see it lighting your face.
Where you go,
waters are deep, the waves so wide—
Don’t let the dragons,
the horned dragons harm you!
(II)
Drifting
clouds pass by all day long;
The wanderer
is long in getting here.
Three nights
now you’ve entered my dreams---
Which shows
how good a friend you are.
But your
leave-takings are hurried,
Bitterly you
say, it’s not easy to come;
The river’s
waters are wind-blown and choppy,
And you’re
afraid to lose your oars.
Outside the
door, you scratch your white head,
As if a
lifetime’s ambition were forfeit.
Officials teem
in the capital city,
Yet you alone
are wretched.
Who says the
net is wide,
An
imperishable fame of a thousand years
Is but a
paltry, after-life affair.
“At Horizon’s End, Thinking of Li Bai”
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.
“A Guest
Arrives”
trans. Burton
Watson
North of my
lodge, south of my lodge, spring rivers all;
Day by day I
see only flocks of gulls convening.
Flower paths
have not been swept for any guest;
My thatch gate
for the first time opens to you.
For food—the market’s
far—no wealth of flavors
For wine—my house
is poor—only old muddy brew
If you don’t
mind drinking with the old man next door,
I’ll call
across the hedge and we can finish off what’s left.
“Random Pleasures, in Quatrain”
(1)
See a traveler
in sorrow: deeper is his grief
As wanton
spring steals into the river pavilion---
True, the
flowers will rush to open,
Yet how the
orioles will keep up their songs?
(2)
Peach
and....planted by hand are not without master:
The rude wall
is low; still it’s my home.
But ‘tis just
like the spring wind, that master bully:
Last night it
blew so many blossomed branches down.
(3)
Heartbroken—there
springtime river trickles to its end:
Cane in hand,
I slowly pace and stand on fragrant bank.
How
impertinent the willow catkins to run off with the…
So fickle, the
peach blossoms to drift with the stream!
“Thought on Historical Sites: Wang Zhaojun”
Massive hills,
numberless valleys,
all
point to Jingmen,
Where the Radiant
Lady was born and reared;…
Once gone from
the purple palace,
she
was lost to northern desert.
Only her green
mound remained,
looking
toward yellowing dusk.
as spring breeze;
Now, pedants jangling, her soul returns in vain
on moonlit night
For a thousand years the lute speaks in an alien tongue,
Clearly her resentment and grief are told in these tunes.
“Climbing the
Height”
The winds cut, clouds are high, apes wails their sorrow,
The air is fresh, sand white, birds fly in circles;
On all sides fallen leaves go rustling, rustling,
While ceaseless river waves come rippling, rippling:
Autumn’s each faded mile seems like my journey
To mount, alone and ill, to this balcony;
Life’s failures and regrets frosting my temples,
And wretched that I’ve had to give up drinking.
“Autumn Thoughts,”
Two Selections
(1)
Jade dews deeply wilt and wound the maple woods;
On Witch Mountain, in Witch Gorge,
the air is somber, desolate.
Billowy waves from
the river roar and rush
towards the sky;
Over the
frontier pass, wind and clouds
sink
to the darkening earth.
These
clustered chrysanthemums, twice blooming,
evoke
the tears of yesteryear;
A lonely boat,
as ever, is moored to the heart
that
yearns for home.
To cut winter
clothes, women everywhere
ply
their scissors and foot-rulers---
Below the
White Emperor’s tall city wall is heard
the urgent
pounding of the evening wash.
(2)
I have heard
the affairs in Chang’an are
like
a game of chess;
For a hundred
years, the business of the state
has
caused sorrows unbearable.
Over there,
the mansions of great nobles and princes
have changed from former times.
Straight
north, one the mountain pass,
gongs and drums
shake the earth;
To horses and
chariots in the westward expedition,
war dispatches
race.
Here, the
fish-dragon is solitary and
the
autumn stream cold—
To live
peacefully in the old country is all I cherish.
“The Ballad of the Army Wagon”
The din of wagons!
Whinnying horses!
Each marcher
at his waist has bow and quiver;
Old people,
children, wives, running alongside,
Who cannot
see, for dust, bridge over river:
They clutch
clothes, stamp their feet,
bar
the way weeping,
Weeping their
voices rise to darkening Heaven;
And when the
passers-by question the marchers,
The marchers
but reply, “Levies come often:
‘They take us
at fifteen for up the river,
To garrison
the West, they’ll take at forty,
Your Headman
has at first to tie your turban,
Grey-headed
you come home, then back to duty—
‘The blood
that’s flowed out there would make a sea,
Sir!
Our Lords, his
lust for land knows no degree, Sir!
But have you
not heard
Of House of
Han, its East two hundred regions
Where villages
and farms are growing brambles?
‘That thought
a sturdy wife may take the plough,
You can’t see
where the fields begin and end, Sir?
That
Highlanders fare worst, they’re hardy fighters
And so they’re
driven first, like dogs and chickens?
‘Although you,
Sir, ask such kind questions,
Dare the
conscripts tell their wretchedness?
How, for
instance, only last winter
The Highland
troop were still in the line
When their
Prefect sent urgent demands,
Demands for
tax, I ask you, from where?
So how we
know, no good having sons.
Always better
to have a daughter:
For daughters
will be wed to our good neighbors
‘But have you
not seen
On the Black
Lake’s shore
The White
bones there of old no one has gathered,
Where new
ghosts cry aloud, old ghosts are bitter,
Rain drenching
from dark clouds their ghostly chatter?’
“Seeing Someone off”
by Wang Wei
(701-761)
Dismounting, I
offer you wine
And ask,
“Where are you bound?”
You say, “I’ve
found no fame or favors;
“I must return
to rest in the South Mountain.”
You leave, and
I ask no more—
White clouds
drift on and on.
“To Subprefect Zhang”
In late years,
I love only the stillness,
The world’s
affairs no longer trouble my heart.
Looking at
myself: no far-reaching plans;
All I know: to
return to familiar woods---
The pine winds
blow and loosen my sash;
The mountain
moon shines upon me playing the lute.
You ask for
reasons for failure or success---
Fisherman’s
song enters the riverbanks deep.
“Deer Fence”
In the empty
fence, I see no one
And hear only
echoes of talk
But sunlight
sifts into my thicket
And glints
back and forth on the moss
“My Bamboo-village Resort”
I sit alone in
the dense bamboo grove,
Plucking a
zither and then crooning long
Deep in the
woods there is no one to notice,
But the bright
moon comes out to take heed of my song.
“My Zhungnan Retreat”
Middle-aged,
much drawn to the Way
Settled for my
evening in the Zhungnan foothill.
Elation comes
and off I go by myself;
Where are the
sights that I must know alone?
I was right on
to the head of a stream,
I sit and
watch when clouds come up.
Or I may meet
an old woodman—
Talk,
laughter, never a time to go home.
“Remembering My Brothers East of the
Mountains”
Here I am
alone in a strange place a stranger
And always
this festival revives thoughts of my people
From far I
know my brothers are
climbing
some high place
All crowned
with dogwood
their
number one short
“Good-bye to Yuan the Second on His Going….”
In Wei city
the morning rain has settled the light dust
At the inn it
is green with the new willow leaves
I beg you to
drink down another cup of wine
You’re going
out west of the frontier
and
you have no friend there.
“Song of the Gansu Frontier”
Two miles
galloping all the way
Another one
plying the whip---
A message arrives
from headquarters
The Huns have
surrounded Jiuquan
The frontier
passes are all flying snow
Beacons are
out, not smoke.
“Good-bye to Adjutant Ping Danran”
You don’t yet
know the road to the frontier
Once more Ban
Chao’s footstep will be followed--
Where the
yellow clouds cut off spring’s colors
And horns call
up the frontier’s sadness
The Gobi is
more than one year’s separation
And the river
forks out over the boundary
You will soon
be teaching those foreign envoys
How to drink
from King Yuezhih’s skull.
“Written on
My Way into Exile”
by Han Yu, trans.
Burton Watson
Once document
at dawn, submitted to the nine-tiered palace;
By evening,
banished to Chaozhou eight thousand li away.
For the sake
of our holy ruler I longed to drive away the evil;
What thought
for this old body, for the few years remaining?
Clouds blanket
the Qin Range—which way is home?
Snow blocks
the Lan Pass—my horse will not go on.
You must have
some purpose, coming so far with me;
Be kind and
gather up my bones from the shores of the fetid river.
“A Question
Addressed to Liu Shijiu”
by Bai Juyi,
trans. Burton Watson
Green bubble—new
brewed wine;
Lumps of red—a
small stove for heating;
Evening comes
and the sky threatens snow—
Could you
drink a cup, I wonder?
“River Snow”
by Liu
Zongyuan, trans. Burton Watson
From a
thousand hills, bird flights have vanished;
one ten
thousand paths, human traces wiped out;
lone boat, an
old man in straw cape and hat,
fishing alone
in the cold river snow.
“Looking
for a Recluse but Failing to Find Him”
by Jia Dao,
trans. Burton Watson
Undre the
pines I questioned the boy.
“My master’s
off gathering herbs.
All I know is
he’s here on the mountain—
Clouds are so
deep, I don’t know where….”
“Sent in
Parting”
by Du Mu,
trans. Burton Watson
Great love may
seem like none at all:
Wine before
us, we only know that smiles won’t come.
The tallow
candle has a heart—it grieves at parting,
In our place
drips tears until the break of day.
“Untitled”
by Li
Shangyin, trans. Burton Watson
Last night’s
planets and stars, last night’s wind,
By the painted
tower’s west side, east of Cassia Hall—
For us no
nearness of phoenixes winging side by side,
Yet our hearts
became as one, like the rhino’s one-tread horn.
From opposing
seats we played pass-the-hook, spring wine was warm.
On rival teams
we played what’s-under-it—wax candles shone red.
When I heard
the drums that called me back to work,
I raced my
horse to Orchid Terrace like tumbleweed torn loose.