Chinese 323 Contemplating Nature (2)

 

Tao Qian/T'ao Ch'ien (365-427)

"Written After Drinking: Twenty Poems"

 

V.

 

I built my hut beside a traveled road

Yet hear no noise of passing carts and horses.

You would like to know how it is done?

With the mind detached, one's place becomes remote.

I pick a chrysanthemum by the eastern hedge

And catch sight of the distant southern hills.

The mountain air is lovely as the sun sets

And flocks of flying birds return together.

In these things is a fundamental truth

I would like to tell, but lack the words.

 

(James Hightower, The Poetry of T'ao Ch'ien, p. 130)

 

Du Fu/Tu Fu (712-770)

"Restless Night"

 

The cool of bamboo invades my room;

moonlight from the fields fills the corners of the court;

dew gathers till it falls in drops;

a scattering of stars, now there, now gone.

A firefly threading the darkness makes his own light;

birds at rest on the water call to each other;

all these lie within the shadow of the sword--

Powerless I grieve as the clear night passes.

 

(Burton Watson, tr., The Columbia Book of Chinese Poetry, p.232)

 

Han Yu/Han Yü (768-824)

 

"To the Wooden Hermit: Two Poems"

 

I.

 

Scarred by flame, hollowed out by waves

you've stood here for ages.

Your roots look like somebody's face

and your trunk just like a human body.

Just because you were called "The Wooden Hermit"

people came to pay you homage and pray for fortune.

 

II.

 

This tree trunk honored as "spirit"

is worth less than an old log

adrift in the gutter.

At least someday someone

might rescue the log from the flame,

and make something good of it.

But you--you are rotten, brittle,

would break under knife or saw,

and even the best craftsman

wouldn't know what to make of you.

 

(Kenneth O. Hanson. tr., Sunflower Splendor, pp. 171-2)

 

 

Su Shi/Su Shih (1037-1101)

 

"Lotus Viewing"

 

The clear wind--what is it?

Something to be loved, not to be named.

Moving like a prince wherever it goes;

the grass and trees whisper its praise.

This outing of ours never had a purpose;

let the lone boat swing about as it will.

In the middle of the current, lying face up,

I greet the breeze that happens along

and lift a cup to offer to the vastness:

how pleasant - that we have no thought for each other!

Coming back through two river valleys,

clouds and water shine in the night.

 

(Burton Watson, tr., The Columbia Book of Chinese Poetry, p. 303)

 

Lu You/Lu Yu (1125-1210)

"Written in a Carefree Mood"

 

Old man pushing seventy,

in truth he acts like a little boy,

whooping with delight when he spies some mountain fruits,

laughing with joy, tagging after village mummers;

with the others having fun stacking tiles to make a pagoda,

standing alone staring at his image in a jardiniere pool.

Tucked under his arm, a battered book to read,

just like the time he first set off for school.

 

(Burton Watson, tr., The Columbia Book of Chinese Poetry, p. 322.)

 

Chen Zilong/Ch'en Tzu Lung (1608-1647)

 

"Willow Branch Songs," Two Selections

 

[1]

 

Must I lament the time that's gone because I've been cast aside?

I've had my days when flowers bloom and flowers fall.

the green bank by the river is said t be like fragrant grass:

It'll ever follow the wanderer to the end of the world.

 

II.

 

A crescent moon hangs on the tip of the willows,

New leaves are like eyebrows, the moon's like a hook.

Wait till the moon is round and reflected in a mirror

To lift from my eyebrows ten thousand layers of grief.

 

(Nos 7, 9 from a series of 10)

(Irving Lo, tr., Sunflower Splendor, p. 471)

 

Zheng Xiaoxu/Cheng Hsiao-hsü (1860-1938)

"Waiting for the Moon on the Twentieth: Two Poems"

 

I.

 

The peaks are shone on, but the moon has yet to rise.

The flowing jasper fills the ground.

In the empty mountain is a lone poet,

Hundreds of crickets chirp in echo of me.

 

II.

 

The nocturnal shade is indescribable,

Thus I describe it with the waning moon.

A recluse comes in sight awhile,

And disappears after a scene of purity.