Han Yu (768-824)

All plants, aware that spring will soon be gone,
Their brightest rose bud purple hues put on:
And from each emulous bloom
Is shed a sweet perfume.

Only the willow-catkins and elm-keys,
In their simplicity, with every breeze
Over the heavens go
Flying like flakes of snow.

Ikkyu Sojun (1394-1481)

My Hovel



The world before my eyes is wan and wasted, just like me.
The earth is decrepit, the sky stormy, all the grass withered.
No spring breeze even at this late date,
Just winter clouds swallowing up my tiny reed hut.


Ikkyu Sojun

Midang So Chong-ju

Beside a chrysanthemum by Midang Sŏ Chŏng-ju



For one chrysanthemum to bloom

a nightingale

has sobbed since spring, perhaps.



For one chrysanthemum to bloom

thunder

has pealed in dark clouds, perhaps.



Flower! Like my sister standing

at her mirror, just back

from far away, far away byways of youth,

where she was racked with longing and lack:



last night's frost came down

to bid your yellow petals bloom, perhaps,

while I could not get to sleep.

Cao Cao (155-220)

Cao Cao: Short Walk Song


Short Walk Song
By Cao Cao of Three Kingdoms
Translated by Laijon Liu 20100103

Hold wine cup I sing:
How shall our life be?
Like the morning dew,
With the days of grief.
Even if we are fervent,
But sorrows never fade.
What to solve sadness?
Probably only drinks.
The long scholar belt
Tied my will and heart.
For talents and friends
I sigh and chant to now.
Like a deer I call n call,
In the green field I look
For all my good guests
I play my music for all.

Oh the moon so bright
And when can I pluck?
Now my sorrow comes
That it will never cease.
By the road and the path
They come lowly to dwell.
Between farewell n feast,
My heart misses their grace
Bright moon n sparse stars,
The crows flying to south.
They spiral over the trees
To find a branch to perch
Mountain or hills, tall or low
Ocean or lakes, deep or small
The great king bows n prays
For the good service of all!

Chen Ziang (661-702)

On Climbing You-Chou Terrace

Ahead I cannot see the ancient faces,
Behind I cannot see the coming sages.
I brood upon the endlessness of Nature,
Lonely and sick at heart, with falling tears.

Han Shan (c.9th cent.)

In the mountains it's cold.
Always been cold, not just this year.
Jagged scarps forever snowed in
Woods in the dark ravines spitting mist.
Grass is still sprouting at the end of June,
Leaves begin to fall in early August.
And here I am, high on mountains,
Peering and peering, but I can't even see the sky.

Lady Murasaki Shikibu (c. 973)

Meeting on the path:
But I cannot clearly know
If it was he,
Because the midnight moon
In a cloud had disappeared.

Du Fu (Tu Fu 712-770)

Jueju, No. 2 of 2 (The River's Blue, The Bird a Perfect White)
Du Fu

The river's blue, the bird a perfect white,
The mountain green with flowers about to blaze.
I've watched the spring pass away again,
When will I be able to return?

Shen Quanqi (650-729)

LINES



Against the City of the Yellow Dragon
Our troops were sent long years ago,
And girls here watch the same melancholy moon
That lights our Chinese warriors --
And young wives dream a dream of spring,
That last night their heroic husbands,
In a great attack, with flags and drums,
Captured the City of the Yellow Dragon.