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[Transcriber's Note: Accented Chinese words have been represented
with the appropriate Pinyin tone number. The macron is marked as
tone 1. Neutral (tone 5) u with umlaut is represented as "uu".
U-with-breve is rendered without the breve, as it carries no information.
Japanese long vowels (macrons in the original) are suffixed with "u".
UTF-8 and HTML versions of this text, with the original accents, are also
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_Translations by Arthur Waley_
I A HUNDRED AND SEVENTY CHINESE POEMS
II MORE TRANSLATIONS FROM THE CHINESE

MORE TRANSLATIONS
FROM THE CHINESE
BY
ARTHUR WALEY

NEW YORK
ALFRED A KNOPF
MCMXIX

COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY
ALFRED A. KNOPF, INC.

PRINTED BY THE VAIL-BALLOU CO., BINGHAMTON, N.Y.
ON WARREN'S INDIA TINT OLD STYLE PAPER
BOUND BY THE PLIMPTON PRESS, NORWOOD, MASS

CONTENTS

PAGE
INTRODUCTION 5

CH`UU YUUAN:--
The Great Summons 13

WANG WEI:--
Prose Letter 23

LI PO:--
Drinking Alone by Moonlight 27
In the Mountains on a Summer Day 29
Waking from Drunkenness on a Spring Day 30
Self-Abandonment 31
To Tan Ch`iu 32
Clearing at Dawn 33

PO CHUU-I:--
Life of Po Chuu-i 35
After Passing the Examination 37
Escorting Candidates to the Examination Hall 38
In Early Summer Lodging in a Temple to Enjoy
the Moonlight 39
Sick Leave 40
Watching the Reapers 41
Going Alone to Spend a Night at the Hsien-Yu
Temple 42
Planting Bamboos 43
To Li Chien 44
At the End of Spring 45
The Poem on the Wall 46
Chu Ch`en1 Village 47
Fishing in the Wei River 50
Lazy Man's Song 51
Illness and Idleness 52
Winter Night 53
The Chrysanthemums in the Eastern Garden 54
Poems in Depression, at Wei Village 55
To His Brother Hsing-Chien, Who was in Tung-Ch`uan 56
Starting Early from the Ch`u-Ch`eng1 Inn 57
Rain 58
The Beginning of Summer 59
Visiting the Hsi-Lin Temple 60
Prose Letter to Yuuan Chen1 61
Hearing the Early Oriole 65
Dreaming that I Went with Lu and Yu to Visit
Yuuan Chen1 66
The Fifteenth Volume 67
Invitation to Hsiao Chuu-Shih 68
To Li Chien 69
The Spring River 70
After Collecting the Autumn Taxes 71
Lodging with the Old Man of the Stream 72
To His Brother Hsing-Chien 73
The Pine-Trees in the Courtyard 74
Sleeping on Horseback 76
Parting from the Winter Stove 77
Good-Bye to the People of Hangchow 78
Written when Governor of Soochow 79
Getting Up Early on a Spring Morning 80
Losing a Slave-Girl 81
The Grand Houses at Lo-Yang 82
The Cranes 83
On His Baldness 84
Thinking of the Past 85
A Mad Poem Addressed to My Nephews and Nieces 87
Old Age 88
To a Talkative Guest 89
To Liu Yuu-Hsi 90
My Servant Wakes Me 91
Since I Lay Ill 92
Song of Past Feelings 93
Illness 96
Resignation 97

YUUAN CHEN1:--
The Story of Ts`ui Ying-Ying 101
The Pitcher 114

PO HSING-CHIEN:--
The Story of Miss Li 117

WANG CHIEN:--
Hearing that His Friend was Coming Back from
the War 137
The South 138

OU-YANG HSIU:--
Autumn 141

APPENDIX 144

INTRODUCTION

This book is not intended to be representative of Chinese literature as
a whole. I have chosen and arranged chronologically various pieces which
interested me and which it seemed possible to translate adequately.

An account of the history and technique of Chinese poetry will be found
in the introduction to my last book.[1] Learned reviewers must not
suppose that I have failed to appreciate the poets whom I do not
translate. Nor can they complain that the more famous of these poets are
inaccessible to European readers; about a hundred of Li Po's poems have
been translated, and thirty or forty of Tu Fu's. I have, as before,
given half my space to Po Chuu-i, of whose poems I had selected for
translation a much larger number than I have succeeded in rendering. I
will give literal versions of two rejected ones:

[1] "170 Chinese Poems," New York, Alfred A. Knopf, 1919.

EVENING

[_A.D. 835_]

_Water's colour at-dusk still white;
Sunsets glow in-the-dark gradually nil.
Windy lotus shakes [like] broken fan;
Wave-moon stirs [like] string [of] jewels.
Crickets chirping answer one another;
Mandarin-ducks sleep, not alone.
Little servant repeatedly announces night;
Returning steps still hesitate._

IN EARLY SPRING ALONE CLIMBING THE T`IEN-KUNG PAGODA

[_A.D. 389_]

_T`ien-kung sun warm, pagoda door open;
Alone climbing, greet Spring, drink one cup.
Without limit excursion-people afar-off wonder at me;
What cause most old most first arrived!_

While many of the pieces in "170 Chinese Poems" aimed at literary form
in English, others did no more than give the sense of the Chinese in
almost as crude a way as the two examples above. It was probably because
of this inconsistency that no reviewer treated the book as an experiment
in English unrhymed verse, though this was the aspect of it which most
interested the writer.

In the present work I have aimed more consistently at poetic form, but
have included on account of their biographical interest two or three
rather unsuccessful versions of late poems by Po Chuu-i.

For leave to reprint I am indebted to the editors of the _English
Review_, _Nation_, _New Statesman_, _Bulletin of School of Oriental
Studies_, and _Reconstruction_.

CH`U YUUAN

[_Fourth Century B.C._]

[1] THE GREAT SUMMONS

_When Ch`uu Yuuan had been exiled from the Court for nine years, he became
so despondent that he feared his soul would part from his body and he
would die. It was then that he made the poem called "The Great Summons,"
calling upon his soul not to leave him._

Green Spring receiveth
The vacant earth;
The white sun shineth;
Spring wind provoketh
To burst and burgeon
Each sprout and flower.
In those dark caves where Winter lurketh
Hide not, my Soul!
O Soul come back again! O, do not stray!

O Soul come back again and go not east or west, or north or south!
For to the East a mighty water drowneth Earth's other shore;
Tossed on its waves and heaving with its tides
The hornless Dragon of the Ocean rideth:
Clouds gather low and fogs enfold the sea
And gleaming ice drifts past.
O Soul go not to the East,
To the silent Valley of Sunrise!

O Soul go not to the South
Where mile on mile the earth is burnt away
And poisonous serpents slither through the flames;
Where on precipitous paths or in deep woods
Tigers and leopards prowl,
And water-scorpions wait;
Where the king-python rears his giant head.
O Soul, go not to the South
Where the three-footed tortoise spits disease!

O Soul go not to the West
Where level wastes of sand stretch on and on;
And demons rage, swine-headed, hairy-skinned,
With bulging eyes;
Who in wild laughter gnash projecting fangs.
O Soul go not to the West
Where many perils wait!

O Soul go not to the North,
To the Lame Dragon's frozen peaks;
Where trees and grasses dare not grow;
Where a river runs too wide to cross
And too deep to plumb,
And the sky is white with snow
And the cold cuts and kills.
O Soul seek not to fill
The treacherous voids of the north!

O Soul come back to idleness and peace.
In quietude enjoy
The lands of Ching and Ch`u.
There work your will and follow your desire
Till sorrow is forgot,
And carelessness shall bring you length of days.
O Soul come back to joys beyond all telling!

Where thirty cubits high at harvest-time
The corn is stacked;
Where pies are cooked of millet and bearded-maize.
Guests watch the steaming bowls
And sniff the pungency of peppered herbs.
The cunning cook adds slices of bird-flesh,
Pigeon and yellow-heron and black-crane.
They taste the badger-stew.
O Soul come back to feed on foods you love!

Next are brought
Fresh turtle, and sweet chicken cooked in cheese
Pressed by the men of Ch`u.
And pickled sucking-pig
And flesh of whelps floating in liver-sauce
With salad of minced radishes in brine;
All served with that hot spice of southernwood
The land of Wu supplies.
O Soul come back to choose the meats you love!

Roasted daw, steamed widgeon and grilled quail--
On every fowl they fare.
Boiled perch and sparrow broth,--in each preserved
The separate flavour that is most its own.
O Soul come back to where such dainties wait!

The four strong liquors are warming at the fire
So that they grate not on the drinker's throat.
How fragrant rise their fumes, how cool their taste!
Such drink is not for louts or serving-men!
And wise distillers from the land of Wu
Blend unfermented spirit with white yeast
And brew the _li_ of Ch`u.
O Soul come back and let your yearnings cease!

Reed-organs from the lands of T`ai and Ch`in
And Wei and Cheng1
Gladden the feasters, and old songs are sung:
The "Rider's Song" that once
Fu-hsi, the ancient monarch, made;
And the harp-songs of Ch`u.
Then after prelude from the flutes of Chao
The ballad-singer's voice rises alone.
O Soul come back to the hollow mulberry-tree![1]

Eight and eight the dancers sway,
Weaving their steps to the poet's voice
Who speaks his odes and rhapsodies;
They tap their bells and beat their chimes
Rigidly, lest harp and flute
Should mar the measure.
Then rival singers of the Four Domains
Compete in melody, till not a tune
Is left unsung that human voice could sing.
O Soul come back and listen to their songs!

Then women enter whose red lips and dazzling teeth
Seduce the eye;
But meek and virtuous, trained in every art;
Fit sharers of play-time,
So soft their flesh and delicate their bones.
O Soul come back and let them ease your woe!

Then enter other ladies with laughing lips
And sidelong glances under moth-eye brows;
Whose cheeks are fresh and red;
Ladies both great of heart and long of limb,
Whose beauty by sobriety is matched.
Well-padded cheeks and ears with curving rim,
High-arching eyebrows, as with compass drawn,
Great hearts and loving gestures--all are there;
Small waists and necks as slender as the clasp
Of courtiers' brooches.
O Soul come back to those whose tenderness
Drives angry thoughts away!

Last enter those
Whose every action is contrived to please;
Black-painted eyebrows and white-powdered cheeks.
They reek with scent; with their long sleeves they brush
The faces of the feasters whom they pass,
Or pluck the coats of those who will not stay.
O Soul come back to pleasures of the night!

A summer-house with spacious rooms
And a high hall with beams stained red;
A little closet in the southern wing
Reached by a private stair.
And round the house a covered way should run
Where horses might be trained.
And sometimes riding, sometimes going afoot
You shall explore, O Soul, the parks of spring;
Your jewelled axles gleaming in the sun
And yoke inlaid with gold;
Or amid orchises and sandal-trees
Shall walk in the dark woods.
O Soul come back and live for these delights!

Peacocks shall fill your gardens; you shall rear
The roc and phoenix, and red jungle-fowl,
Whose cry at dawn assembles river storks
To join the play of cranes and ibises;
Where the wild-swan all day
Pursues the glint of idle king-fishers.
O Soul come back to watch the birds in flight!

He who has found such manifold delights
Shall feel his cheeks aglow
And the blood-spirit dancing through his limbs.
Stay with me, Soul, and share
The span of days that happiness will bring;
See sons and grandsons serving at the Court
Ennobled and enriched.
O Soul come back and bring prosperity
To house and stock!

The roads that lead to Ch`u
Shall teem with travellers as thick as clouds,
A thousand miles away.
For the Five Orders of Nobility
Shall summon sages to assist the King
And with godlike discrimination choose
The wise in council; by their aid to probe
The hidden discontents of humble men
And help the lonely poor.
O Soul come back and end what we began!

Fields, villages and lanes
Shall throng with happy men;
Good rule protect the people and make known
The King's benevolence to all the land;
Stern discipline prepare
Their natures for the soft caress of Art.
O Soul come back to where the good are praised!

Like the sun shining over the four seas
Shall be the reputation of our King;
His deeds, matched only in Heaven, shall repair
The wrongs endured by every tribe of men,--
Northward to Yu and southward to Annam
To the Sheep's Gut Mountain and the Eastern Seas.
O Soul come back to where the wise are sought!

Behold the glorious virtues of our King
Triumphant, terrible;
Behold with solemn faces in the Hall
The Three Grand Ministers walk up and down,--
None chosen for the post save landed-lords
Or, in default, Knights of the Nine Degrees.
At the first ray of dawn already is hung
The shooting-target, where with bow in hand
And arrows under arm,
Each archer does obeisance to each,
Willing to yield his rights of precedence.
O Soul come back to where men honour still
The name of the Three Kings.[2]

[1] The harp.

[2] Yuu, T`ang and Wen1, the three just rulers of antiquity.

WANG WEI

[_A.D. 699-759_]

[2] PROSE LETTER

_To the Bachelor-of-Arts P`ei Ti_

Of late during the sacrificial month, the weather has been calm and
clear, and I might easily have crossed the mountain. But I knew that you
were conning the classics and did not dare disturb you. So I roamed
about the mountain-side, rested at the Kan-p`ei Temple, dined with the
mountain priests, and, after dinner, came home again. Going northwards,
I crossed the Yuuan-pa, over whose waters the unclouded moon shone with
dazzling rim. When night was far advanced, I mounted Hua-tzuu's Hill and
saw the moonlight tossed up and thrown down by the jostling waves of
Wang River. On the wintry mountain distant lights twinkled and vanished;
in some deep lane beyond the forest a dog barked at the cold, with a cry
as fierce as a wolf's. The sound of villagers grinding their corn at
night filled the gaps between the slow chiming of a distant bell.

Now I am sitting alone. I listen, but cannot hear my grooms and servants
move or speak. I think much of old days: how hand in hand, composing
poems as we went, we walked down twisting paths to the banks of clear
streams.

We must wait for Spring to come: till the grasses sprout and the trees
bloom. Then wandering together in the spring hills we shall see the
trout leap lightly from the stream, the white gulls stretch their wings,
the dew fall on the green moss. And in the morning we shall hear the cry
of curlews in the barley-fields.

It is not long to wait. Shall you be with me then? Did I not know the
natural subtlety of your intelligence, I would not dare address to you
so remote an invitation. You will understand that a deep feeling
dictates this course.

Written without disrespect by Wang Wei, a dweller in the mountains.

LI PO

[_A.D. 701-762_]

[3-5] DRINKING ALONE BY MOONLIGHT

[_Three Poems_]

I

A cup of wine, under the flowering trees;
I drink alone, for no friend is near.
Raising my cup I beckon the bright moon,
For he, with my shadow, will make three men.
The moon, alas, is no drinker of wine;
Listless, my shadow creeps about at my side.
Yet with the moon as friend and the shadow as slave
I must make merry before the Spring is spent.
To the songs I sing the moon flickers her beams;
In the dance I weave my shadow tangles and breaks.
While we were sober, three shared the fun;
Now we are drunk, each goes his way.
May we long share our odd, inanimate feast,
And meet at last on the Cloudy River of the sky.[1]

II

In the third month the town of Hsien-yang
Is thick-spread with a carpet of fallen flowers.
Who in Spring can bear to grieve alone?
Who, sober, look on sights like these?
Riches and Poverty, long or short life,
By the Maker of Things are portioned and disposed;
But a cup of wine levels life and death
And a thousand things obstinately hard to prove.
When I am drunk, I lose Heaven and Earth.
Motionless--I cleave to my lonely bed.
At last I forget that I exist at all,
And at _that_ moment my joy is great indeed.

III

If High Heaven had no love for wine,
There would not be a Wine Star in the sky.
If Earth herself had no love for wine,
There would not be a city called Wine Springs.[2]
Since Heaven and Earth both love wine,
I can love wine, without shame before God.
Clear wine was once called a Saint;[3]
Thick wine was once called "a Sage."[3]

Of Saint and Sage I have long quaffed deep,
What need for me to study spirits and _hsien_?[4]
At the third cup I penetrate the Great Way;
A full gallon--Nature and I are one ...
But the things I feel when wine possesses my soul
I will never tell to those who are not drunk.

[1] The Milky Way.

[2] Ch`iu-ch`uuan, in Kansuh.

[3] "History of Wei Dynasty" (Life of Hsuu Mo): "A drunken visitor said,
'Clear wine I account a Saint: thick wine only a Sage.'"

[4] The lore of Rishi, Immortals.

[6] IN THE MOUNTAINS ON A SUMMER DAY

Gently I stir a white feather fan,
With open shirt sitting in a green wood.
I take off my cap and hang it on a jutting stone;
A wind from the pine-trees trickles on my bare head.

[7] WAKING FROM DRUNKENNESS ON A SPRING DAY

"Life in the World is but a big dream;
I will not spoil it by any labour or care."
So saying, I was drunk all the day,
Lying helpless at the porch in front of my door.
When I woke up, I blinked at the garden-lawn;
A lonely bird was singing amid the flowers.
I asked myself, had the day been wet or fine?
The Spring wind was telling the mango-bird.
Moved by its song I soon began to sigh,
And as wine was there I filled my own cup.
Wildly singing I waited for the moon to rise;
When my song was over, all my senses had gone.

[8] SELF-ABANDONMENT

I sat drinking and did not notice the dusk,
Till falling petals filled the folds of my dress.
Drunken I rose and walked to the moonlit stream;
The birds were gone, and men also few.

[9] TO TAN CH`IU

My friend is lodging high in the Eastern Range,
Dearly loving the beauty of valleys and hills.
At green Spring he lies in the empty woods,
And is still asleep when the sun shines on high.
A pine-tree wind dusts his sleeves and coat;
A pebbly stream cleans his heart and ears.
I envy you, who far from strife and talk
Are high-propped on a pillow of blue cloud.

[10] CLEARING AT DAWN

The fields are chill; the sparse rain has stopped;
The colours of Spring teem on every side.
With leaping fish the blue pond is full;
With singing thrushes the green boughs droop.
The flowers of the field have dabbled their powdered cheeks;
The mountain grasses are bent level at the waist.
By the bamboo stream the last fragment of cloud
Blown by the wind slowly scatters away.

PO CHU-I

LIFE OF PO CHU-I

772 Born on 20th of 1st month.
800 Passes his examinations.
806 Receives a minor post at Chou-chih, near the capital.
807 Made Scholar of the Han Lin Academy.
811 Retires to Wei River, being in mourning for his mother.
814 Returns to Court.
815 Banished to Hsuun-yang.
818 Removed to Chung-chou.
820 Reprieved and returns to Court.
822 Governor of Hangchow.
825 Governor of Soochow.
826 Retires owing to illness.
827 Returns to Ch`ang-an.
829 Settles permanently at Lo-yang.
831 Governor of Ho-nan, the province of which Lo-yang was capital.
833 Retires owing to illness.
839 Has paralytic stroke in tenth month.
846 Dies in the eighth month.

[11] AFTER PASSING THE EXAMINATION

[_A.D. 800_]

For ten years I never left my books;
I went up ... and won unmerited praise.
My high place I do not much prize;
The joy of my parents will first make me proud.
Fellow students, six or seven men,
See me off as I leave the City gate.
My covered couch is ready to drive away;
Flutes and strings blend their parting tune.
Hopes achieved dull the pains of parting;
Fumes of wine shorten the long road....
Shod with wings is the horse of him who rides
On a Spring day the road that leads to home.

[12] ESCORTING CANDIDATES TO THE EXAMINATION HALL

[_A.D. 805_]

At dawn I rode to escort the Doctors of Art;
In the eastern quarter the sky was still grey.
I said to myself, "You have started far too soon,"
But horses and coaches already thronged the road.
High and low the riders' torches bobbed;
Muffled or loud, the watchman's drum beat.
Riders, when I see you prick
To your early levee, pity fills my heart.
When the sun rises and the hot dust flies
And the creatures of earth resume their great strife,
You, with your striving, what shall you each seek?
Profit and fame, for that is all your care.
But I, you courtiers, rise from my bed at noon
And live idly in the city of Ch`ang-an.
Spring is deep and my term of office spent;
Day by day my thoughts go back to the hills.

[13] IN EARLY SUMMER LODGING IN A TEMPLE TO ENJOY THE MOONLIGHT

[_A.D. 805_]

In early summer, with two or three more
That were seeking fame in the city of Ch`ang-an,
Whose low employ gave them less business
Than ever they had since first they left their homes,--
With these I wandered deep into the shrine of Tao,
For the joy we sought was promised in this place.
When we reached the gate, we sent our coaches back;
We entered the yard with only cap and stick.
Still and clear, the first weeks of May,
When trees are green and bushes soft and wet;
When the wind has stolen the shadows of new leaves
And birds linger on the last boughs that bloom.
Towards evening when the sky grew clearer yet
And the South-east was still clothed in red,
To the western cloister we carried our jar of wine;
While we waited for the moon, our cups moved slow.
Soon, how soon her golden ghost was born,
Swiftly, as though she had waited for us to come.
The beams of her light shone in every place,
On towers and halls dancing to and fro.
Till day broke we sat in her clear light
Laughing and singing, and yet never grew tired.
In Ch`ang-an, the place of profit and fame,
Such moods as this, how many men know?

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