A clear stream passes by the
mountain clad in green;
The clear sky and clear water
melt in autumn hue.
Far far away from the tumultuous
world unclean,
Long long will white clouds and
red leaves be friend to you.
Note: This is the joint translation of Xu Yuanchong and Xu Ming found in the edition of Golden Treasury of Quatrains and Octaves on which they collaborated (i.e. China Publishing Group: Beijing (2008) p. 64.)
Adieu, adieu! my native shore
Fades o'ver the waters blue;
The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar,
And shrieks the wild sea-mew.
Yon sun that sets upon the sea
We follow in his flight;
Farewell awhile to him and thee,
My native Land-Good Night!
A few short hours, and he will rise
To give the morrow birth;
And I shall hail the main and skies,
But not my mother earth.
Deserted is my own good hall,
Its hearth is desolate;
Wild weeds are gathering on the wall;
My dog howls at the gate.
bright flowers
dance in a breeze,
beside the castle wall.
I read the space
Around the poem.
It has no meaning,
But says so much.
It betrays a little secret
That no reader ever learned
Who was too concerned
With what was written,
While wholly inattentive
To
What
Was
Not.
How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!
How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in,
With gently smiling jaws!
There once was a wise Daoist Immortal,
Asked the secret to long life, he'd chortle:
"If you can stand masses
Who behave like asses
You're enlightened --
but better off mortal."
sparse patter
on leaves outside the window:
half-hour after rain.
Splendid thoughts arise from joined words --
Lucidity is awakened:
Luminous like adorned brocade,
Doleful as a string serenade.
But if crib suspicions aren't killed,
It'll be just one more pulp piece.
Though you may be these word's weaver--
Some ancestor, the prime conceiver.
You must be just and rise above,
Though it kills words you've grown to love.
The original lines in Simplified Chinese:
或藻思绮合，清丽千眠。
炳若缛绣，凄若繁弦。
必所拟之不殊，乃暗合乎曩篇。
虽杼轴于予怀，怵佗人之我先。
苟伤廉而愆义，亦虽爱而必捐。
Here lies the body of this world,
Whose soul alas to hell is hurled.
This golden youth long since was past,
Its silver manhood went as fast,
An iron age drew on at last;
'Tis vain its character to tell,
The several fates which it befell,
What year it died, when 'twill arise,
We only know that here it lies.
There was a young man from Busan --
'Twas up the hillside he lived on
That - pressed for time -
He bought a zipline,
But got stuck, dangling above Busan.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 