Verdant orchid leaves of Spring;
Cassia blooms bright in Autumn;
Thriving plants, top to bottom.
Festivals planned by their timings.
Who knows the forest recluse --
Pleased with winds and winds with he.
Plants have stems, branches, and roots
Why beg a belle to pluck their fruits.
This is poem #2 of the 300 Tang Poems [唐诗三百首,] and is the second in a quartet of poems called 感遇 [Gan Yu.] The original poem in Simplified Chinese goes:
兰叶春葳蕤， 桂华秋皎洁；
欣欣此生意， 自尔为佳节。
谁知林栖者， 闻风坐相悦。
草木有本心， 何求美人折？
Knowledge can be a wicked curse,
Like gold coins in a sturdy purse.
Tied up -- inviolably pent --
To be rattled... but never spent.
I love thy music, mellow bell,
I love thine iron chime,
To life or death, to heaven or hell,
Which calls the sons of Time.
Thy voice upon the deep
The home-bound sea-boy hails,
It charms his cares to sleep,
It cheers him as he sails.
To house of God and heavenly joys
Thy summons called our sires,
And good men thought thy sacred voice
Disarmed the thunder's fires.
And soon thy music, sad death-bell,
Shall lift its notes once more,
And mix my requiem with the wind
That sweeps my native shore.
mama chicken
struts with great confidence
for one wrangling chicks.
Maybe the first lines constrain the last;
Maybe ends insist on openings;
Maybe some truths escape all words;
Maybe dulcet lines tell no truths.
One may need to keep separated --
Beauty and truth -- to avoid wounds.
Inspect and haggle over each word --
Distinctions maybe finer than a hair;
Weigh each edit upon a scale;
Ensure each cut serves its purpose.
Original poem in Simplified Chinese:
或仰逼于先条，或俯侵于后章。
或辞害而理比，或言顺而义妨。
离之则双美， 合之则两伤。
考殿最于锱铢，定去留于毫芒。
苟铨衡之所裁，固应绳其必当。
high mountains:
sunrise hits snowcaps only;
in darkness & don't know it.
An unfamiliar horse --
Saddled but riderless --
Cautiously ambles
Into the village.
Its saddle, bags, and coat
Spattered in black --
Really, rust-red on brown.
The villagers want nothing
To do with it,
But each sneaks it food
And lets it water at their
Tank.
I heard thee laugh,
And in this merriment
I defined the measure of my pain;
I knew that I was alone,
Alone with love,
Poor shivering love,
And he, little sprite,
Came to watch with me,
And at midnight
We were like two creatures by a dead camp-fire.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 