On the mountain: A conversation
why I perch
on a jade green mountain?
but say nothing
like a peach blossom
in the flowing stream
in the depths
in another world
not among men.
Good Rain: A Night in Spring
The good rain knows its season
Come spring it comes to life again
With the wind, so stealthy in the night
Moistens all things so delicate so silent
On the wild paths clouds all black
lI morning’s glow, the red wet spots
Flowers weigh down upon the Brocade Mandarin.
The Birds Have Vanished into the Sky
The birds have vanished into the sky,
and now the last cloud drains away.
We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.
I love East Mountain’s music.
I could stay a thousand years here or just never leave.
I ‘d wave my dancing sleeve,
and sweep clean the Mountain of the Five Trunked Pine.
Drinking with a Friend, among the Mountains
Together, we drink; the mountain flowers open.
A cup, a cup, and one more cup.
Drunk, l’d sleep; you go.
Tomorrow, come again: Do bring your lute.
Quiet Night Thoughts
Before my bed
There is bright moonlight
So that it seems
like frost on the ground;
Lifting my head
I watch the bright moon,
Lowering my head
I dream that I’m home.
To Amuse Myself
full of wine
fill my robe
but getting up
after the moon
in the stream
when the birds have gone
A gift (in jest) – for Tu Fu
Fan Kuo Mountain
and his sombrero
in the noonday
It’s the pain
Taking Leave of a Friend
Blue mountains to the north of the walls,
White river winding about them;
Here we must make separation
And go out through a thousand miles of dead grass.
Mind like a floating wide cloud,
Sunset like the parting of old acquaintances
Who bow over their clasped hands at a distance.
Our horses neigh to each others
as we are departing.
Sitting at Reverence Mountain
The flocks have flown high up and gone.
A single cloud fades into emptiness.
In meditation, endlessly, we two:
Then: only the Mountain of Reverence.
Autumn River Song
The moon shimmers in green water.
White herons fly through the moonlight.
The young man hears a girl gathering water-chestnuts:
into the night, singing, they paddle home together.
In the Quiet Night
The floor before my bed is bright:
Moonlight – like hoarfrost – in my room.
I lift my head and watch the moon.
I drop my head and think of home.
Missing the East Mountains
Its long since Ive gone to the East Mountains.
How many seasons have the tiny roses bloomed?
White clouds-unblown-fall apart.
In whose court has the bright moon dropped?
A Night with a Friend
Dousing clean a thousand old cares,
sticking it out through a hundred pots of wine,
a good night needing the best of conversation,
a brilliant moon that will not let us sleep –
drunk we lie down in empty hills,
heaven and earth our quilt and pillow.
Ascend the Phoenix Terrace
On the phoenix terrace, phoenix at play.
Phoenix gone; terrace empty; the river flows on alone.
Wu Palace: flowers and weeds bury the dark paths.
Robes and caps of Chin Dynasty have gone into grave mounds.
The Three Mountains half-falling beyond the sky,
White Egret Isle splits the river into two.
Always, floating clouds cover the sun:
No sight of Châ€angan: sorrow, sorrow.
Facing wine – I dont notice the dusk
Falling flowers cover my robe
Drunkenly I rise, and walk with the moon in the stream
Birds have gone back, and people are few
other Mountain flowers
Coming Down from Southmost Mountain, Stopping for Wine at Husis Mountain Hermitage
At nightfall, coming down from the green mountainside,
the mountain moon was following me home.
I looked back along the path, where I had come,
down a narrow valley dark with trees.
It was there I met you and you led me to your house.
Your boy came out and opened the gate for us;
through green hgmboos, down a dark path,
we walked, creepers catching on our clothes.
As we talked happily, I found the peace I sought,
for a while, pouring for each other your fine wine.
We sang so long the song of Pines in the Wind
that when we finished, few stars remained in the dark sky.
I got drunk that night, and you were happy, too;
for a while, we forgot the world and all its cares.
A Song of Changan
You came, riding on a bamboo horse,
and played with plums around the railing of the well.
We both lived in Changan village,
two children with no suspicion of each other.
At fourteen, I became your wife;
I was shy, and had not yet smiled at you.
I lowered my head toward the shaded wall;
you called a thousand times, but I never answered.
At fifteen, I first began to smile,
and hoped we would be together, even as dust or ashes
I believed we would never be apart,
so why would I ever need to climb the lookout tower?
When I was sixteen, you went on a long journey,
through Qutang Gorge with its Yanyu rocks,
sharp beneath the high water of the fifth month,
where the sad cries of the apes fill the skies.
By the front gate, your footprints are still there,
but one by one they fill with moss,
moss so deep now, I cant sweep it away,
as leaves fall early in autumn winds.
In the eighth month, butterflies have come;
pairs of them Hutter in our western garden.
Seeing these things makes my heart sad;
I sit, mourning the loss of my youthful beauty.
When, at last, you set out from the Three Gorges,
send a letter ahead to let me know.
I will come to meet you, no matter how far,
even all the way to Long Wind Sands.
Viewing the Heavenly Gate Mountain
Heaven’s Gate is split in the center as the Chu River cuts through it,
The green water flowing east arrives here in swirls.
On both shores there are green mountains facing each other,
A lonely sail comes forward from where the sun is.