A Li Bai 李白 poem from Superstars, My China in Tang Poetry series, Volume One:
SPRING THOUGHTS
Grass on Swallow Bank like emerald silk,
old mulberries bend low their heavy heads.
On the day you dream of coming home,
that day is when longing breaks my heart.
This spring wind doesn't even know me,
what’s it doing behind my bed curtains?
春思
燕草如碧絲，秦桑低綠枝。
當君懷歸日，是妾斷腸時。
春風不相識，何事入羅幃。
A Du Fu 杜甫 poem from Superstars, My China in Tang Poetry series, Volume One:
MY SICK HORSE
You and I have been together for a good long time,
stomping on the hilly slopes along the cold frontier.
You’ve done all you can to stay useful and strong,
just not strong enough to fight aging and disease.
Nothing distinguished about your pedigree,
but you have been loyal and obedient to me.
A lowly creature of little import to anyone else,
let me sing for you this sad and mournful song.
病馬
乘爾亦已久，天寒關塞深。
塵中老盡力，歲晚病傷心。
毛骨豈殊眾？馴良猶至今。
物微意不淺，感動一沉吟。
A Meng Haoran 孟浩然 poem from Floating on Clouds, My China in Tang Poetry series, Volume Two:
Pre-reading Notes:
Cold Stove Day is a winter festival when one does not cook; it is sometimes translated as Cold Food Day. “A good snow”. 瑞雪, is timely snow, dubbed by farmers as auspicious, because it warms up the environment and kills undesirable insects, plus it is a frozen reservoir for use when it melts. This kind of snowfall foretells a good harvest. Poetry contests refer to the drinking game of poetry-making. A candle is marked and used as a stopwatch, usually about an inch of candle for a poem, that is, before the candle burns to the marked spot, you have to complete the poem assigned. If you fail, you have to drink up. And finally, superior wine is supposed to not confuse the mind or make one drunk. Meng Haoran is describing a sort of perfect party here. An alternate text gives the last two lines as: 醉來方欲臥，不覺曉雞鳴。“Feeling woozy, I laid down and fell asleep. / Before I knew it, cockcrow wakes me.”
COLD STOVE BANQUET AT MAGISTRATE ZHANG’S MANSION
Sign of a good year this timely snow, a whole foot
has fallen within the first half of the first night watch.
You’ve arranged seating for our drinking companions,
and marked a candle for the poetry contest as we drink.
The room is pleasantly warmed by pots of incense,
and the string player’s strokes so delicate and pure
are the perfect accompaniment for this superior wine,
clearing the mind. Dawn rose to welcome me home.
寒夜張明府宅宴
瑞雪初盈尺，
寒宵始半更。
列筵邀酒伴，
刻燭限詩成。
香炭金爐暖，
嬌弦玉指清。
厭厭不覺醉，
歸路曉霞生。
A much translated Wang Wei 王維 poem from Floating on Clouds, My China in Tang Poetry series, Volume Two:
DEER LODGE
One sees no one on these empty hills,
but human voices punctuate the silence.
Setting rays shine through the thickets:
sun-echoes lie on green moss patches.
鹿柴
空山不見人，
但聞人語響。
返景入深林，
復照青苔上。（王維）
A Xue Tao 薛濤 poem from Floating on Clouds, My China in Tang Poetry series, Volume Two:
The next little poem has to be understood with the story she referenced in its last line. It is the story of 羅敷 Lou Fu. Hers is an ancient tale, so ancient, in fact, her name has come to mean a beautiful and true young woman, possibly married but most likely not. The story is from one of the poems in the Book of Songs, or Shijing, the oldest book of Chinese poetry, made up of mostly folksongs. According to the poem, Mo Shang Sang 陌上桑, “Mulberry on the Road,” Luo Fu was a young woman who picked mulberry for a living, or she just happened to be picking mulberries by the road when a soldier passed by on the Eastern Road. She was so beautiful that he wanted her to come with him and be his concubine. She replied immediately, putting him in his place, saying something like, “How stupid you are! You who have a wife, and I, a husband.” And proceeds to paint a picture of some high up, handsome, leader of men, (one who would ride at the head of the pack) and sent the poor guy on his way. Thereafter, people call exceptionally beautiful young women who are loyal to their husbands, real or ideal, true or imagined, Luo Fu. It is somewhat arrogant of Xue Tao, an unmarried entertainer, albeit a very successful one, to thus describe herself. She did, however, put Prefect Zheng at the head of his line of soldiers on the Eastern Road. Perhaps she was saying that he was “husband material”?
FAREWELL TO PREFECT ZHENG OF MEIZHOU
Falling rain has darkened Mei Mountain’s paths and waterways.
From this tower, I watch you go, hiding tears behind my sleeve.
Banners flying on Eastern Road, a thousand riders in double files,
but I, like Luo Fu, only have eyes for the one at the head of the line.
送鄭眉州
雨暗眉山江水流，
離人掩袂立高樓。
雙旌千騎駢東陌，
獨有羅敷望上頭。
A Yu Xuanji 魚玄機 poem from Floating on Clouds, My China in Tang Poetry series, Volume Two:
ON A SUMMER DAY, LIVING IN THE MOUNTAINS
Living like an immortal up high on the mountain,
flowers flourish all around me without bother.
In the front porch I hang my coat on a tree branch,
I drink wine from cups floating in spring water.
My footpath turns into a forest of wild bamboo.
Silk robes are casually draped over stacks of books.
You can often find me lounging on my flatboat,
trusting to the quiet wind to blow me where it will.
夏日山居
移得仙居此地來，
花叢自遍不曾栽。
庭前亞樹張衣桁，
坐上新泉泛酒杯。
軒檻暗傳深竹徑，
綺羅長擁亂書堆。
閒乘畫舫吟明月，
信任輕風吹卻回。
A Bai Juyi 白居易 poem from Friends and Lovers, My China in Tang Poetry series, Volume Three:
Pre-reading note: siblings or blood relations are called 骨肉, bones and blood (see fourth line in poem).
UPON GAZING AT THE MID-AUTUMN MOON
Prologue: Since chaos struck Henan, and famine plagued Guan‘nei, my family has been scattered, brothers separated. Seeing the autumn moon tonight, I thought of them and sent this poem to my eldest brother at Fouliang, my seventh brother at Yuqian, my fifteenth brother at Wujiang, and family members at Fuli and those in Xiagui.
Times are hard, years fallow, homesteads turned inside out,
siblings scattered in all directions, living in make-shift camps.
Fields and gardens ravaged, leaving patches of butchered earth.
Bones torn from blood; entire households spilled onto highways.
Lone geese, separated, call for their flocks in the vast empty sky.
Families uprooted like tumbleweeds blowing in the autumn wind.
Tonight, the festival moon is especially bright, teasing tears.
One family gazing at the same moon at five different places.
望月有感
自河南經亂，關內阻饑，兄弟離散，各在一處。因望月有感，聊書所懷，寄上浮梁大兄、於潛七兄、烏江十五兄，兼示符離及下邽弟妹。
時難年荒世業空，弟兄羈旅各西東。
田園寥落干戈後，骨肉流離道路中。
弔影分為千里雁，辭根散作九秋蓬。
共看明月應垂淚，一夜鄉心五處同。
A Li He 李賀 poem from Friends and Lovers, My China in Tang Poetry series, Volume Three:
FALL IS COMING
Wind rustles through the wutong leaves, coming at my warrior-heart.
Lamp burns low as I listen to the shuttle of crickets anticipating winter.
Who will unfurl this bamboo scroll and read my writing? And how long
will it take for worms to make holes and turn my work to a heap of dust?
This miserable night and the thought of worms will surely pull my insides out.
But wait, the cold rain brings a ghostly figure, an ancient come to comfort me.
I hear voices singing from the grave, chanting Master Bao’s rugged verse,[1]
a thousand years in the earth must have turned his aggrieved blood to jade.[2]
秋來
桐風驚心壯士苦，衰燈絡緯啼寒素。
誰看青簡一編書，不遣花蟲粉空蠹。
思牽今夜腸應直，雨冷香魂弔書客。
秋墳鬼唱鮑家詩，恨血千年土中碧。
[1] Master Bao is Bao Zhao 鮑照who lived in the fifth century and is known for his fu rhapsodies. He was, like so many of these great poets frustrated in his political ambitions and wrote a group of poems called “The Rugged Road”, the verse Li He is referring to in this poem.
[2] Zuangzi said of Chang Hong, another aggrieved virtuous man, that his blood will turn to green jade after three years in the ground.
A Du Mu 杜牧 poem from Friends and Lovers, My China in Tang Poetry series, Volume Three:
UP ON THE MOUNTAIN, GAZING FROM MY CARRIAGE
Climbing up the cold stones of the steep mountain slope,
looking out through to where clouds descend on houses,
across from where the sun is setting on the maple forest,
red leaves are glowing livelier than flowers in early spring.
山行
遠上寒山石徑斜，
白雲生處有人家。
停車坐愛楓林晚，
霜葉紅於二月花
Li Shangyin 李商隱 poem from Friends and Lovers, My China in Tang Poetry series, Volume Three:
One of Eight "Songs Without a Name"
Note: Peng Lai is equivalent to our paradise.
Hard to see you, hard to let you go:
East Wind falters, all flowers die.
Spring worms spin till their silk is spent.
When wax turns to ashes, tears will dry.
The morning mirror tells no lies,
night songs sharpen the moon’s cold rays.
Peng Lai is not so far from here,
go, go my bluebirds, spy me out a way.
相見時難別亦難，東風無力百花殘。
春蠶到死絲方盡，蠟炬成灰淚始幹。
曉鏡但愁雲鬢改，夜吟應覺月光寒。
蓬山此去無多路，青鳥殷勤為探看。