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TO MENG HAORAN
I love you Meng Fuzi, Master Meng,
free spirit, famous under heaven.
In rosy youth, you spurned cap and carriage.
With snowy head, you lie among clouds and pines,
drunk beneath the moon, remaining the sage,
addled among flowers, serving no lord.
At the foot of your unscaleable heights,
I bow in gathering mountain fragrance.
Blue mountains to the north of town.
White water to the east of town.
We stop here for a last goodbye:
Thistledown flies a thousand li.
Now you must be a floating cloud,
and your old friend, the setting sun.
Waving, each goes his separate way.
Parting horses nicker and neigh.
送友人
青山橫北郭， 白水遶東城。此地一為別， 孤蓬萬里征。浮雲游子意， 落日故人情。揮手自茲去， 蕭蕭班馬鳴。
As flowers bloom and leaves unfold,
my friend sets out, west for Guanling.
His solitary sail recedes,
vanishing where river meets sky.
Two versions of "Jade Stairs"
Resentment on the Jade Stairs
Midnight on the stairs of jade,
white dew soaks her silken hose.
Draw down then the crystal shade:
fall's moon glitters in its gems.
Stood Up on the Jade Stairs
Midnight on the stairs of jade,
white dew soaked your silken hem.
Draw down then the crystal shade:
moonlight glitters in its gems.
High Summer
Lazing in the mountain wood,
waving a white feather fan,
I get up, open my clothes,
hang my headband on a rock.
Green pine wind plays through my hair.
Wine with the Mountain Hermit
We drink amid the mountain flowers.
A cup, one more, and then another.
I'm in a stupor, you stagger off.
Come back with your lute, when you can.
Alone in My Cups
Drinking wine, unaware
of nightfall. Fallen flowers
fill the folds of my clothes.
Getting up and walking
to the moonlit river,
where no birds and few men
remain.
SPRING NIGHT: A FLUTE IN LOYANG
From which house, fleeting, invisible notes
mingling with the wind and fillng the city?
Hearing that tune, A Willow Twig for Parting,
who could not dwell on thoughts of home?
TO MENG HAORAN
I love you Meng Fuzi, Master Meng,
free spirit, famous under heaven.
In rosy youth, you spurned cap and carriage.
With snowy head, you lie among clouds and pines,
drunk beneath the moon, remaining the sage,
addled among flowers, serving no lord.
At the foot of your unscaleable heights.
I bow in gathering mountain fragrance.
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