I with my hair in its first fringe
Romped outside breaking flower-heads.
You galloped by on bamboo horses.
We juggled green plums round the well.
Living in Chang-kan village,
Two small people without guile.
At fourteen I married you sir,
So bashful I could only hide,
My frowning face turned to the wall.
Called after – never looking back.
Fifteen before I learnt to smile.
Yearned to be one with you forever.
You to be the Ever-Faithful.
I to not sit lonely, waiting.
At sixteen you sir went away,
Through White King’s Gorge, by Yen Rock’s rapids,
When the Yangtze’s at its highest,
Where the gibbons cried above you.
Here by the door your last footprints,
Slowly growing green mosses,
So deep I cannot sweep them,
Leaves so thick from winds of autumn.
September’s yellow butterflies
Twine together in our west garden.
What I feel – it hurts the heart.
Sadness makes my beauty vanish.
When you come down from far places,
Please will you write me a letter?
As far as the farthest reaches,
I’ll come out to welcome you.
The River-Captain’s Wife – A Letter - 长干行
To My Brothers and Sisters Adrift in Troubled Times this Poem of the Moon - 自河南经乱,关内阻饥,兄弟离散,各在一处.因望月有感,聊书所怀,寄上浮梁大兄,于潜七兄,乌江十五兄,兼示符离及下弟妹
Since the disorders in Henan and the famine in Guannei,
my brothers and sisters have been scattered.
Looking at the moon, I express my thoughts in this poem,
which I send to my eldest brother at Fuliang,
my seventh brother at Yuqian, My fifteen brother at Wujiang
and my younger brothers and sisters at Fuli and Xiagui.
My heritage lost through disorder and famine,
My brothers and sisters flung eastward and westward,
My fields and gardens wrecked by the war,
My own flesh and blood become scum of the street,
I moan to my shadow like a lone-wandering wildgoose,
I am torn from my root like a water-plant in autumn:
I gaze at the moon, and my tears run down
For hearts, in five places, all sick with one wish.
At the Mountain-Lodge of the Buddhist Priest Ye Waiting in Vain for My Friend Ding - 宿业师山房待丁大不至
Now that the sun has set beyond the western range,
Valley after valley is shadowy and dim….
And now through pine-trees come the moon and the chill of evening,
And my ears feel pure with the sound of wind and water
Nearly all the woodsmen have reached home,
Birds have settled on their perches in the quiet mist….
And still – because you promised – I am waiting for you, waiting,
Playing lute under a wayside vine.
Inscribed in the Inn at Tong Gate on an Autumn Trip to the Capital - 秋日赴阙题潼关驿楼
Red leaves are fluttering down the twilight
Past this arbour where I take my wine;
Cloud-rifts are blowing toward Great Flower Mountain,
And a shower is crossing the Middle Ridge.
I can see trees colouring a distant wall.
I can hear the river seeking the sea,
As I the Imperial City tomorrow -
But I dream of woodsmen and fishermen.
On leaving the tomb of Premier Fang - 别房太尉墓
Having to travel back now from this far place,
I dismount beside your lonely tomb.
The ground where I stand is wet with my tears;
The sky is dark with broken clouds….
I who played chess with the great Premier
Am bringing to my lord the dagger he desired.
But I find only petals falling down,
I hear only linnets answering.
A Reason Fair - 凉州词
‘Tis night: the grape-juice mantles high
in cups of gold galore;
We set to drink, – but now the bugle
sounds to horse once more.
Oh marvel not if drunken we
lie strewed about the plain;
How few of all who seek the fight
shall e’er come back again!