“Guan Ju”

Waterbirds on

River islands:

Shy the Nymph our

Shepherd’s chosen!

Waterlilies

Wreathe around her:

Shy the Nymph he

Walking, sleeping

Never reaches;

Walking, sleeping,

Longing, longing,

Turning, tossing!

Waterlilies

To adorn her:

Shy the Nymph we

Greet with zither!

Waterlilies

To array her:

To the shy Nymph

Bell, drum bring glee!

Translated by Arthur Cooper

 

“Li Shao” (Encountering Sorrow)

…….

With a profusion of innate virtues I was endowed;

Augmented them with many cultivated talents.

Clad myself in selinea and shady angelica,

I wove together autumn orchids for girdle pendants.

 

… I could hardly keep my race with fleeting time

Dreading that the years wouldn’t wait for me,

Mornings, I plucked magnolia blossoms…

Evenings, I gathered winter sedges in the islet.

 

The sun and moon sped away and never lingered;

Spring and autumn followed each other in …

As grass and tress will wither and fall,

I also feared the Lovely One would decline in…

You won’t cherish your youth or abandon the filthy;

But, why can’t you mend your ways and manners?

Come, gallop forth on your spirited stteed,

And I’ll guide you on the road ahead!

….

Those rulers, Yao and Shun, were great and…

Following the right principles, they found the way.

But how wild and licentious were Jie and Zhou!

They took the narrow path and they stumbled.

For partisans who indulged themselves in lust,

The road was dark, narrow, and dangerous.

I was not afraid of falling into disaster myself,

But I feared the wreck of the royal carriage.

 

Hastily I rushed back and forth,

To follow the footsteps of former kings.

The Fragrant One failed to discern my feelings;

Instead, he believed in slanders and raged against ..

 

I knew, for sure, my obdurate loyalty would cause…

I would rather be patient but could hardly constrain

I pointed to the Nine Heavens as my witness—

All that I did was for the sake of the Holy One!

….

The crowd vied with each other for sordid gain;

Insatiable they were in craving and extortion.

While measuring other according to their own…

They each set their mind on envy and malice.

To rush about in mad pursuit

Was not my most pressing concern.

As old age slowly came upon me,

I worried that my good name had not been established…

Long I sighed and my tears I wiped away—

I grieved that people could suffer so much

….

These were the things my heart desired,

..I wouldn’t regret even if I died a thousand deaths.

“Going on always on and on”

Going on always on and on

alive, but parted from you.

gone ten thousand miles and more,

each to a far edge of the sky.

the road is hard and long

with nothing sure about meeting again.

Tartar horses lean to the northern wind

Viet birds nest on southern boughs.

days advance, the parting grows long

days advance, the sash grows loose

floating clouds hide the bright sun—

the wanderer can think of no return

loving you I became old

suddenly the time is late—

enough, I speak no more;

try hard to stay well.

*     *     *

Green is the grass on riverbanks,

Dense are the willows in the garden.

Fair is the woman upstairs,

Bright as the moon at her window.

Lovely is her rouge-powered face,

Slender are her white hands.

At one time she was a singing-girl,

Now she is a wanderer’s wife.

He went away and has not returned,

An empty bed, hard to keep alone.

 

 

“Song of Gaixia” –Xiang Ji (232-202BC)

Strength I had to uproot hills,

my spirit dominated the age;

Now in this hour of misfortune,

my dappled steed cannot flee.

Dappled steed, unable to break away,

what hope is left?

Ah, Lady Yü, my Yü!

what will become of you?

“Song of the Great Wind”--Liu Pang (256-195 BC)

A great wind arose,

the clouds flew up and away;

My majesty now grown to the sea’s edges

I return to my old home.

Yet where shall I find brave men to guard

the four quarters?

 

“Poems Expressing My Feelings”

by Juan Chi (210-263)

Deep in the night and unable to sleep

I rise and sit to play my singing lute

thin curtains mirror the bright moon

clear breezes tug my lapels

a single swan shrieks past the fields

hovering birds cry in the north woods,

pacing round, what is it that awaits me?

Anxious thoughts alone that hurt the heart.

 

“On Returning to My Garden and Field”

by Tao Qian (365-427)

When I was young, I did not fit into the common…

By instinct, I love mountains and hills.

By error, I fell into this dusty net

And was gone from home for thirteen years.

A caged bird yearns for its native woods;

The fish in a pond recalls old mountain pool.

Now I shall clear the land at the edge of the south…

And, clinging to simplicity, return to garden and…

My house and land on a two-acre lot,

My thatched hut of eight or nine rooms—

Elms and willows shade the eaves back of the house

Peach and plum trees stand in a row before the hall.

Lost in a haze is the distant village,

where smoke hovers above the homes.

Dogs bark somewhere in deep lanes,

Cocks crow atop the mulberry trees.

My home is free from dust and care,

In a bare room there is leisure to spare.

Long a prisoner in a cage,

I am now able to come back to nature.

 

“Drinking Wine”

by Tao Qian

I built my cottage among the habitations of men,

And yet there is no clamor of carriages and horses.

You ask: “Sir, how can this be done?”

“A heart that is distant creates its own solitude.”

I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge,

Then gaze afar toward the southern hills.

The mountain air is fresh at the dusk of day,

The flying birds in clocks return.

In these things there lies a deep meaning,

I want to tell it, but have forgotten the words.

“Miscellaneous Poems”

A man has no roots.

Blown about—like dust on the road

In all directions, he tumbles with the wind:

Our lives are brief enough.

We come into this world as brothers and sisters:

But why must we be tied to flesh and blood?

Let’s enjoy our happiness:

Here’s a jug of wine, call in the neighbors.

The best times don’t come often:

Each day dawns only once.

The seasons urge us on—

Time waits for no man.

 

In Praise of Jing Ke

By Tao Qian

Prince Dan of Yan knew how to treat a man-

His aim was vengeance on mighty Ying.

He long had looked for the man worth a hundred

And then as the years ran out he got Jing Ke.

“A gentleman will die for one who knows his worth;

With sword in hand I will leave Yan’s capital,

My pallid charger whinnying through the streets

As they escort me, filled with high resolve.”

The hero’s hair thrusts through his high hat,

His valor saturates the long capstring.

A farewell cup beside the River Yi,

Around him sit the heroes of the realm.

Gao Jianli strikes the sad lute,

Song Yi sings the high-pitched mournful song.

A plaintive wind begins its lonely wail,

The cold waves surge in the swelling flood.

With the Shang mode tune the tears flow fast

When the not yu is struck the hero is startled:

He knows he will leave and never return

But after him his name will live forever.

He mounted his carriage and never once looked back.

Canopy flying, he headed for the court of Qin.

Straight for his goal he dashed, ten thousand miles

Around and through a thousand towns he drove.

When the chart unrolled, the thing was there—

Even the intrepid ruler drew back in fear.

Alas, this his swordsmanship was faulty

And left the unimaginable deed undone!

Although the man is long since dead and gone,

After a thousand years he inspires us still.

 

Blaming Sons

By Tao Qian

White hair shrouds both my temples,

My skin and flesh have lost their fullness.

Though I have five male children,

Not one of them loves brush and paper.

A-shu’s already twice times eight—

in laziness he’s never been rivaled.

A-xuan’s going on fifteen

But cares nothing for letters or learning.

Yong and Duan are thirteen

And can’t tell a 6 from a 7!

Tongzi’s approaching age nine—

All he does is hunt for chestnuts and pears.

If this is the luck Heaven sends me,

Then pour me the “thing in the cup”!

 

Climbing Stone Drum Mountain Above the Shores of Shang-shu”

by Xie Lingyun (385-433)

 

A traveler’s thoughts stretch on forever,

Sorrow follows grief and grief follows sorrow.

The road home is interminably far,

The rivers and highlands are impassable.

Wandering on, … no one to share a happy moment,

…at the start of spring I devote myself to climbing.

Since I cannot share my joys and hopes,

Perhaps my melancholy is most in place.

Extending my gaze leftward, I see the broad plains,

Around to the right, I behold a narrow gorge.

As the sun sinks the waters grow choppy,

And clouds form midst the multiplying ranges.