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Sunday, September 25, 2011

TO AN OLD FRIEND LOST IN TIBET

Lost, a whole army,
        before the gates of a city,
the year before last
        fighting the Yuezhi.
Lost, the torn, scattered tents,
        with no one to collect them.
There were only the tattered banners
        on horses straggling back.
Lost, any news of you,
        along the way from Tibet.
What offerings can I make
        if your fate is unknown?  
Lost, you and I to each other,
        whether or not you still live.
I offer these tears
        from far, far away.
          --Zhang Ji, my tr.  

Friday, September 23, 2011

This road here runs
     up to white clouds.
Spring is as long
     as the clear stream.
At times fallen petals
     float by,
flowing off
     on scented water.
My door idles
     on the mountain path.
My study's deep
     in willow shade;
my sleeves, sunlit
     on sunny days.
       --Liu Shenxu, my tr.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

ON THE RIVER, I SAW THE WATERS SURGING LIKE THE OCEAN: A SKETCHY ACCOUNT

I have always been peculiar,
      driven by love of well-wrought verse.
Seeking a word of startling rightness,
      I'd sooner die than rest.
In my reckless old age,
      my words and I overwhelm each other.
So you needn't fear, birds and flowers,
     for the secrets of your spring.
Just now, I've put in a pier
      to dangle a fishing line from.
Before, I was angling from an anchored raft
      in place of a boat.
Who could I get with the mind of a master
      like Tao or Xie
to help out with my writing
      and wander the nearby world with me?
--Du Fu, my tr.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

The Cicada

In the first place,
however refined you are
and able to live on wind and dew,
they will never satisfy your hunger.
So why keep up your bitter cry?
By the fifth hour
your voice is weak and hoarse
in the green, indifferent tree.
I'm just a minor functionary,
a drifting twig.
And the old fields at home
lie wasted and full of weeds.
So thank you for reminding me
that my family has a long history
of pure character.
--Li Shangyin, my tr.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Thoughts in the Cold

My guests have all gone,
the river rises to my doorstep,
cicadas cease whirring,
branches fill with dew:
a time when you fill my heart,
the time that passes while I stand
still beneath the Big Dipper,
as distant as spring.
Here beyond the edge
of your Nanjing sky
no messenger comes.
I am left with only
my dreams to divine
if you've found a new friend.
--Li Shangyin, my tr.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

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.
--Li Bai, my tr.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

An Alternate Translation of "Deer Fence"

Empty Mountain.
Seeing no one.
Hearing someone's
echoing voice.
The late day sun
enters again
the deep forest,
shining once more
on the green moss.
--Wang Wei, my tr.