Various - More Translations from the Chinese
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Various >> More Translations from the Chinese
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[1] Name of a palace at Ch`ang-an.
[35] DREAMING THAT I WENT WITH LU AND YU TO VISIT YUUAN CHEN1
[_Written in exile_]
At night I dreamt I was back in Ch`ang-an;
I saw again the faces of old friends.
And in my dreams, under an April sky,
They led me by the hand to wander in the spring winds.
Together we came to the village of Peace and Quiet;
We stopped our horses at the gate of Yuuan Chen1.
Yuuan Chen1 was sitting all alone;
When he saw me coming, a smile came to his face.
He pointed back at the flowers in the western court;
Then opened wine in the northern summer-house.
He seemed to be saying that neither of us had changed;
He seemed to be regretting that joy will not stay;
That our souls had met only for a little while,
To part again with hardly time for greeting.
I woke up and thought him still at my side;
I put out my hand; there was nothing there at all.
[36] THE FIFTEENTH VOLUME
[_Having completed the fifteenth volume of his works, the poet sends it
to his friends Yuuan Chen1 and Li Chien, with a jesting poem._]
[_Written in 818_]
My long poem, the "Eternal Grief,"[1] is a beautiful and moving work;
My ten "Songs of Shensi" are models of tunefulness.
I cannot prevent Old Yuuan from stealing my best rhymes;
But I earnestly beg Little Li to respect my ballads and songs.
While I am alive riches and honour will never fall to my lot;
But well I know that after I am dead the fame of my books will live.
This random talk and foolish boasting forgive me, for to-day
I have added Volume Fifteen to the row that stands to my name.
[1] See Giles, "Chinese Literature," p. 169.
[37] INVITATION TO HSIAO CHUU-SHIH[1]
[_Written when Governor of Chung-Chou_]
Within the Gorges there is no lack of men;
They are people one meets, not people one cares for.
At my front door guests also arrive;
They are people one sits with, not people one knows.
When I look up, there are only clouds and trees;
When I look down--only my wife and child.
I sleep, eat, get up or sit still;
Apart from that, nothing happens at all.
But beyond the city Hsiao the hermit dwells;
And with _him_ at least I find myself at ease.
For _he_ can drink a full flagon of wine
And is good at reciting long-line poems.
Some afternoon, when the clerks have all gone home,
At a season when the path by the river bank is dry,
I beg you, take up your staff of bamboo-wood
And find your way to the parlour of the Government House.
[1] Nos. 37, 38, 39, and 40 were written when the poet was Governor of a
remote part of Ssechuan,--in the extreme west of China.
[38] TO LI CHIEN
[_A.D. 818_]
The province I govern is humble and remote;
Yet our festivals follow the Courtly Calendar.
At rise of day we sacrificed to the Wind God,
When darkly, darkly, dawn glimmered in the sky.
Officers followed, horsemen led the way;
They brought us out to the wastes beyond the town,
Where river mists fall heavier than rain,
And the fires on the hill leap higher than the stars.
Suddenly I remembered the early levees at Court
When you and I galloped to the Purple Yard.
As we walked our horses up Dragon Tail Street
We turned our heads and gazed at the Southern Hills.
Since we parted, both of us have been growing old;
And our minds have been vexed by many anxious cares.
Yet even now I fancy my ears are full
Of the sound of jade tinkling on your bridle-straps.
[39] THE SPRING RIVER
[_A.D. 820_]
Heat and cold, dusk and dawn have crowded one upon the other;
Suddenly I find it is two years since I came to Chung-chou.
Through my closed doors I hear nothing but the morning and evening
drum;
From my upper windows all I see is the ships that come and go.[1]
In vain the orioles tempt me with their song to stray beneath
the flowering trees;
In vain the grasses lure me by their colour to sit beside the pond.
There is one thing and one alone I never tire of watching--
The spring river as it trickles over the stones and babbles past
the rocks.
[1] "The Emperor Saga of Japan [reigned A.D. 810-23] one day quoted to
his Minister, Ono no Takamura, the couplet:
'Through my closed doors I hear nothing but the morning and evening
drum;
From my upper windows in the distance I see ships that come and go.'
Takamura, thinking these were the Emperor's own verses, said: 'If I may
venture to criticize an august composition, I would suggest that the
phrase "in the distance" be altered.' The Emperor was delighted, for he
had purposely changed 'all I see' to 'in the distance I see.' At that
time there was only one copy of Po Chuu-i's poems in Japan and the
Emperor, to whom it belonged, had allowed no one to see it."--From the
_Koudanshou_ [twelfth century].
[40] AFTER COLLECTING THE AUTUMN TAXES
From my high castle I look at the town below
Where the natives of Pa cluster like a swarm of flies.
How can I govern these people and lead them aright?
I cannot even understand what they say.
But at least I am glad, now that the taxes are in,
To learn that in my province there is no discontent.
I fear its prosperity is not due to me
And was only caused by the year's abundant crops,
The papers that lie on my desk are simple and few;
My house by the moat is leisurely and still.
In the autumn rain the berries fall from the eaves;
At the evening bell the birds return to the wood.
A broken sunlight quavers over the southern porch
Where I lie on my couch abandoned to idleness.
[41] LODGING WITH THE OLD MAN OF THE STREAM
[_A.D. 820_]
Men's hearts love gold and jade;
Men's mouths covet wine and flesh.
Not so the old man of the stream;
He drinks from his gourd and asks nothing more.
South of the stream he cuts firewood and grass;
North of the stream he has built wall and roof.
Yearly he sows a single acre of land;
In spring he drives two yellow calves.
In these things he finds great repose;
Beyond these he has no wish or care.
By chance I met him walking by the water-side;
He took me home and lodged me in his thatched hut.
When I parted from him, to seek market and Court,
This old man asked my rank and pay.
Doubting my tale, he laughed loud and long:
"Privy Councillors do not sleep in barns."
[42] TO HIS BROTHER HSING-CHIEN
[_A.D. 820_]
Can the single cup of wine
We drank this morning have made my heart so glad?
This is a joy that comes only from within,
Which those who witness will never understand.
I have but two brothers
And bitterly grieved that both were far away;
This Spring, back through the Gorges of Pa,
I have come to them safely, ten thousand leagues.
Two sisters I had
Who had put up their hair, but not twined the sash;[1]
Yesterday both were married and taken away
By good husbands in whom I may well trust.
I am freed at last from the thoughts that made me grieve,
As though a sword had cut a rope from my neck.
And limbs grow light when the heart sheds its care:
Suddenly I seem to be flying up to the sky!
* * * * *
Hsing-chien, drink your cup of wine
Then set it down and listen to what I say.
Do not sigh that your home is far away;
Do not mind if your salary is small.
Only pray that as long as life lasts,
You and I may never be forced to part.
[1] I.e., got married.
[43] THE PINE-TREES IN THE COURTYARD
[_A.D. 820_]
Below the hall
The pine-trees grow in front of the steps,
Irregularly scattered,--not in ordered lines.
Some are tall and some are low:
The tallest of them is six roods high;
The lowest but ten feet.
They are like wild things
And no one knows who planted them.
They touch the walls of my blue-tiled house;
Their roots are sunk in the terrace of white sand.
Morning and evening they are visited by the wind and moon;
Rain or fine,--they are free from dust and mud.
In the gales of autumn they whisper a vague tune;
From the suns of summer they yield a cool shade.
At the height of spring the fine evening rain
Fills their leaves with a load of hanging pearls.
At the year's end the time of great snow
Stamps their branches with a fret of glittering jade.
Of the Four Seasons each has its own mood;
Among all the trees none is like another.
Last year, when they heard I had bought this house,
Neighbours mocked and the World called me mad--
That a whole family of twice ten souls
Should move house for the sake of a few pines!
Now that I have come to them, what have they given me?
They have only loosened the buckles of my care.
Yet even so, they are "profitable friends,"[1]
And fill my need of "converse with wise men."
Yet when I consider how, still a man of the world,
In belt and cap I scurry through dirt and dust,
From time to time my heart twinges with shame
That I am not fit to be master of my pines!
[1] See "Analects of Confucius" 4 and 5, where three kinds of
"profitable friends" and three kinds of "profitable pleasures" are
described; the third of the latter being "plenty of intelligent
companions."
[44] SLEEPING ON HORSEBACK
[_A.D. 822_]
We had rode long and were still far from the inn;
My eyes grew dim; for a moment I fell asleep.
Under my right arm the whip still dangled;
In my left hand the reins for an instant slackened.
Suddenly I woke and turned to question my groom:
"We have gone a hundred paces since you fell asleep."
Body and spirit for a while had exchanged place;
Swift and slow had turned to their contraries.
For these few steps that my horse had carried me
Had taken in my dream countless aeons of time!
True indeed is that saying of Wise Men
"A hundred years are but a moment of sleep."
[45] PARTING FROM THE WINTER STOVE
[_A.D. 822_]
On the fifth day after the rise of Spring,
Everywhere the season's gracious altitudes!
The white sun gradually lengthening its course,
The blue-grey clouds hanging as though they would fall;
The last icicle breaking into splinters of jade;
The new stems marshalling red sprouts.
The things I meet are all full of gladness;
It is not only _I_ who love the Spring.
To welcome the flowers I stand in the back garden;
To enjoy the sunlight I sit under the front eaves.
Yet still in my heart there lingers one regret;
Soon I shall part with the flame of my red stove!
[46] GOOD-BYE TO THE PEOPLE OF HANGCHOW
[_A.D. 824_]
Elders and officers line the returning road;
Wine and soup load the parting table.
I have not ruled you with the wisdom of Shao Kung;[1]
What is the reason your tears should fall so fast?
My taxes were heavy, though many of the people were poor;
The farmers were hungry, for often their fields were dry.
All I did was to dam the water of the Lake[2]
And help a little in a year when things were bad.
[1] A legendary ruler who dispensed justice sitting under a wild
pear-tree.
[2] Po Chuu-i built the dam on the Western Lake which is still known as
"Po's dam."
[47] WRITTEN WHEN GOVERNOR OF SOOCHOW
[_A.D. 825_]
A Government building, not my own home.
A Government garden, not my own trees.
But at Lo-yang I have a small house
And on Wei River I have built a thatched hut.
I am free from the ties of marrying and giving in marriage;
If I choose to retire, I have somewhere to end my days.
And though I have lingered long beyond my time,
To retire now would be better than not at all!
[48] GETTING UP EARLY ON A SPRING MORNING
[_Part of a poem written when Governor of Soochow in 825_]
The early light of the rising sun shines on the beams of my house;
The first banging of opened doors echoes like the roll of a drum.
The dog lies curled on the stone step, for the earth is wet with dew;
The birds come near to the window and chatter, telling that the day
is fine.
With the lingering fumes of yesterday's wine my head is still heavy;
With new doffing of winter clothes my body has grown light.
[49] LOSING A SLAVE-GIRL
[_Date uncertain_]
Around my garden the little wall is low;
In the bailiff's lodge the lists are seldom checked.
I am ashamed to think we were not always kind;
I regret your labours, that will never be repaid.
The caged bird owes no allegiance;
The wind-tossed flower does not cling to the tree.
* * * * *
Where to-night she lies none can give us news;
Nor any knows, save the bright watching moon.
[50] THE GRAND HOUSES AT LO-YANG
[_Circa A.D. 829_]
By woods and water, whose houses are these
With high gates and wide-stretching lands?
From their blue gables gilded fishes hang;
By their red pillars carven coursers run.
Their spring arbours, warm with caged mist;
Their autumn yards with locked moonlight cold.
To the stem of the pine-tree amber beads cling;
The bamboo-branches ooze ruby-drops.
Of lake and terrace who may the masters be?
Staff-officers, Councillors-of-State.
All their lives they have never come to see,
But know their houses only from the bailiff's map!
[51] THE CRANES
[_A.D. 830_]
The western wind has blown but a few days;
Yet the first leaf already flies from the bough.
On the drying paths I walk in my thin shoes;
In the first cold I have donned my quilted coat.
Through shallow ditches the floods are clearing away;
Through sparse bamboos trickles a slanting light.
In the early dusk, down an alley of green moss,
The garden-boy is leading the cranes home.
[52] ON HIS BALDNESS
[_A.D. 832_]
At dawn I sighed to see my hairs fall;
At dusk I sighed to see my hairs fall.
For I dreaded the time when the last lock should go ...
They are all gone and I do not mind at all!
I have done with that cumbrous washing and getting dry;
My tiresome comb for ever is laid aside.
Best of all, when the weather is hot and wet,
To have no top-knot weighing down on one's head!
I put aside my dusty conical cap;
And loose my collar-fringe.
In a silver jar I have stored a cold stream;
On my bald pate I trickle a ladle-full.
Like one baptized with the Water of Buddha's Law,
I sit and receive this cool, cleansing joy.
_Now_ I know why the priest who seeks Repose
Frees his heart by first shaving his head.
[53] THINKING OF THE PAST
[_A.D. 833_]
In an idle hour I thought of former days;
And former friends seemed to be standing in the room.
And then I wondered "Where are they now?"
Like fallen leaves they have tumbled to the Nether Springs.
Han Yuu[1] swallowed his sulphur pills,
Yet a single illness carried him straight to the grave.
Yuuan Chen1 smelted autumn stone[2]
But before he was old, his strength crumbled away.
Master Tu possessed the "Secret of Health":
All day long he fasted from meat and spice.
The Lord Ts`ui, trusting a strong drug,
Through the whole winter wore his summer coat.
Yet some by illness and some by sudden death ...
All vanished ere their middle years were passed.
Only I, who have never dieted myself
Have thus protracted a tedious span of age,
I who in young days
Yielded lightly to every lust and greed;
Whose palate craved only for the richest meat
And knew nothing of bismuth or calomel.
When hunger came, I gulped steaming food;
When thirst came, I drank from the frozen stream.
With verse I served the spirits of my Five Guts;[3]
With wine I watered the three Vital Spots.
Day by day joining the broken clod
I have lived till now almost sound and whole.
There is no gap in my two rows of teeth;
Limbs and body still serve me well.
Already I have opened the seventh book of years;
Yet I eat my fill and sleep quietly;
I drink, while I may, the wine that lies in my cup,
And all else commit to Heaven's care.
[1] The famous poet, d. 824 A.D.
[2] Carbamide crystals.
[3] Heart, liver, stomach, lungs and kidney.
[54] A MAD POEM ADDRESSED TO MY NEPHEWS AND NIECES
[_A.D. 835_]
The World cheats those who cannot read;
_I_, happily, have mastered script and pen.
The World cheats those who hold no office;
_I_ am blessed with high official rank.
The old are often ill;
_I_, at this day have not an ache or pain.
They are often burdened with ties;
But _I_ have finished with marriage and giving in marriage.
No changes happen to disturb the quiet of my mind;
No business comes to impair the vigour of my limbs.
Hence it is that now for ten years
Body and soul have rested in hermit peace.
And all the more, in the last lingering years
What I shall need are very few things.
A single rug to warm me through the winter;
One meal to last me the whole day.
It does not matter that my house is rather small;
One cannot sleep in more than one room!
It does not matter that I have not many horses;
One cannot ride in two coaches at once!
As fortunate as me among the people of the world
Possibly one would find seven out of ten.
As contented as me among a hundred men
Look as you may, you will not find one.
In the affairs of others even fools are wise;
In their own business even sages err.
To no one else would I dare to speak my heart,
So my wild words are addressed to my nephews and nieces.
[55] OLD AGE
[_Addressed to Liu Yuu-hsi, who was born in the same year_]
[_A.D. 835_]
We are growing old together, you and I,
Let us ask ourselves, what is age like?
The dull eye is closed ere night comes;
The idle head, still uncombed at noon.
Propped on a staff, sometimes a walk abroad;
Or all day sitting with closed doors.
One dares not look in the mirror's polished face;
One cannot read small-letter books.
Deeper and deeper, one's love of old friends;
Fewer and fewer, one's dealings with young men.
One thing only, the pleasure of idle talk,
Is great as ever, when you and I meet.
[56] TO A TALKATIVE GUEST
[_A.D. 836_]
The town visitor's easy talk flows in an endless stream;
The country host's quiet thoughts ramble timidly on.
"I beg you, Sir, do not tell me about things at Ch`ang-an;
For you entered just when my harp was tuned and lying balanced on
my knees."
[57] TO LIU YU-HSI
[_A.D. 838_]
In length of days and soundness of limb you and I are one;
Our eyes are not wholly blind, nor our ears quite deaf.
Deep drinking we lie together, fellows of a spring day;
Or gay-hearted boldly break into gatherings of young men.
When, seeking flowers, we borrowed his horse, the river-keeper was
vexed;
When, to play on the water, we stole his boat, the Duke Ling was sore.
I hear it said that in Lo-yang, people are all shocked,
And call us by the name of "Liu and Po, those two mad old men."
[58] MY SERVANT WAKES ME
[_A.D. 839_]
My servant wakes me: "Master, it is broad day.
Rise from bed; I bring you bowl and comb.
Winter comes and the morning air is chill;
To-day your Honour must not venture abroad."
When I stay at home, no one comes to call;
What must I do with the long, idle hours?
Setting my chair where a faint sunshine falls
I have warmed wine and opened my poetry-books.
[59] SINCE I LAY ILL
[_A.D. 840_]
Since I lay ill, how long has passed?
Almost a hundred heavy-hanging days.
The maids have learnt to gather my medicine-herbs;
The dog no longer barks when the doctor comes.
The jars in my cellar are plastered deep with mould;
My singer's carpets are half crumbled to dust.
How can I bear, when the Earth renews her light,
To watch from a pillow the beauty of Spring unfold?
[60] SONG OF PAST FEELINGS [With Preface]
[_Circa A.D. 840_]
When Lo-t`ien[1] was old, he fell ill of a palsy. So he made a list of
his possessions and examined his expenses, that he might reject whatever
had become superfluous. He had in his employ a girl about twenty years
old called Fan Su, whose postures delighted him when she sang or danced.
But above all she excelled in singing the "Willow-Branch," so that many
called her by the name of this song, and she was well known by this name
in the town of Lo-yang. But she was on the list of unnecessary expenses
and was to be sent away.
He had too a white horse with black mane, sturdy and sure-footed, which
he had ridden for many years. It stood on the list of things which could
be dispensed with, and was to be sold. When the groom led the horse
through the gate, it tossed its head and looked back, neighing once with
a sound in its voice that seemed to say: "I know I am leaving you and
long to stay." Su, when she heard the horse neigh, rose timidly, bowed
before me and spoke sweetly, as shall hereafter be shown. When she had
done speaking her tears fell.
When first I heard Su's words, I was too sad to speak and could not
answer her. But in a little while I ordered the bridle to be turned and
the sleeve reversed.[1] Then I gave her wine and drank a cup myself, and
in my happiness sang a few score notes. And these notes turned into a
poem, a poem without fixed measure, for the measure followed my
irregular tune. In all there were 255 words.
Alas! I am no Sage. I could neither forget past feelings nor show such
sensibility as this beast reputed incapable of feeling! Things that
happen lay hold of my heart, and when my heart is moved, I cannot
control it. Therefore, smiling at myself, I called this song "A Song of
Past Feelings Unforgotten."
The Song says:
_I was selling my white horse
And sending Willow Branch away.
She covered her dark eyebrows;
He trailed his golden halter.
The horse, for want of speech,
Neighed long and turned his head;
And Willow Branch, twice bowing,
Knelt long and spoke to me:
"Master, you have ridden this horse five years,
One thousand eight hundred days;
Meekly he has borne the bit,
Without shying, without bolting.
And I have served you for ten years,
Three thousand and six hundred days;
Patient carrier of towel and comb,[2]
Without complaint, without loss.
And now, though my shape is lowly,
I am still fresh and strong.
And the colt is still in his prime,
Without lameness or fault.
Why should you not use the colt's strength
To replace your sick legs?
Why should you not use my song to gladden your casual cup?
Need you in one morning send both away,
Send them away never to return?
This is what Su would say to you before she goes,
And this is what your horse meant also
When he neighed at the gate.
Seeing my distress, who am a woman,
And hearing its cries, that is but a horse,
Shall our master alone remain pitiless?"_
I looked up and sighed: I looked down and laughed. Then I said:
_"Dear horse, stop your sad cries!
Sweet Su, dry your bitter tears!
For you shall go back to your stall;
And you to the women's room.
For though I am ill indeed,
And though my years are at their close,
The doom of Hsiang Chi[3] has not befallen me yet.
Must I in a single day
Lose the horse I rode and the lady I loved?
Su, O Su!
Sing once again the Song of the Willow Branch!
And I will pour you wine in that golden cup
And take you with me to the Land of Drunkenness."_
[1] I.e., Po Chuu-i himself.
[2] I.e., performing the functions of a wife.
[3] Who, surrounded at the battle of Kai-hsia (202 B.C.), gave his horse
to a boatman, lest it should fall into the hands of the enemy.
[61] ILLNESS
[_Written circa 842, when he was paralyzed_]
Dear friends, there is no cause for so much sympathy.
I shall certainly manage from time to time to take my walks abroad.
All that matters is an active mind, what is the use of feet?
By land one can ride in a carrying-chair; by water, be rowed in a boat.
[62] RESIGNATION
Keep off your thoughts from things that are past and done;
For thinking of the past wakes regret and pain.
Keep off your thoughts from thinking what will happen;
To think of the future fills one with dismay.
Better by day to sit like a sack in your chair;
Better by night to lie a stone in your bed.
When food comes, then open your mouth;
When sleep comes, then close your eyes.
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