Towards noon fleecy clouds waft in the gentle breeze;
I cross the stream amid flowers and willow trees.
What do the worldlings know about my hearty pleasure?
They'd only take me for a truant fond of leisure.
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.))
We should not mind so small a flower
Except it quiet bring
Our little garden that we lost
Back to the Lawn again -
So spicy her Carnations nod -
So drunken, reel her Bees -
So silver, steal a hundred flutes
From out a hundred trees -
That whoso sees this little flower
By faith, may clear behold
The Bobolinks around the throne
And Dandelions gold.
Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth.
Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,
Giving me strength erect against her hate,
Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.
Yet, as a rebel fronts a king in state,
I stand within her walls with not a shred
Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.
Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,
And see her might and granite wonders there,
Beneath the touch of Time’s unerring hand,
Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.
Centre of equal daughters, equal sons,
All, all alike endear’d, grown, ungrown, young or old,
Strong, ample, fair, enduring, capable, rich,
Perennial with the Earth, with Freedom, Law and Love,
A grand, sane, towering, seated Mother,
Chair’d in the adamant of Time.
The summer sun is sinking low;
Only the tree-tops redden and glow:
Only the weathercock on the spire
Of the neighboring church is a flame of fire;
All is in shadow below.
O beautiful, awful summer day,
What hast thou given, what taken away?
Life and death, and love and hate,
Homes made happy or desolate,
Hearts made sad or gay!
On the road of life one mile-stone more!
In the book of life one leaf turned o'er!
Like a red seal is the setting sun
On the good and the evil men have done,--
Naught can to-day restore!
Brighter than fireflies upon the Uji River
Are your words in the dark, Beloved.
My silks and fine array,
My smiles and languish'd air,
By love are driv'n away;
And mournful lean Despair
Brings me yew to deck my grave:
Such end true lovers have.
His face is fair as heav'n,
When springing buds unfold;
O why to him was't giv'n,
Whose heart is wintry cold?
His breast is love's all worship'd tomb,
Where all love's pilgrims come.
Bring me an axe and spade,
Bring me a winding sheet;
When I my grave have made,
Let winds and tempests beat:
Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay.
True love doth pass away!
In half of the wide courtyard only mosses grow;
Peach blossoms all fallen, only rape flowers blow.
Where is the Taoist planting peach trees in this place?
Only I come again after my new disgrace.
Note: This is the joint translation of Xu Yuanchong and Xu Ming found in the edition of <em>Golden Treasury of Quatrains and Octaves</em> on which they collaborated (i.e. China Publishing Group: Beijing (2008.))
The “new disgrace” referenced was Liu Yuxi’s second exile.
Fast rode the knight
With spurs, hot and reeking,
Ever waving an eager sword,
"To save my lady!"
Fast rode the knight,
And leaped from saddle to war.
Men of steel flickered and gleamed
Like riot of silver lights,
And the gold of the knight's good banner
Still waved on a castle wall.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
A horse,
Blowing, staggering, bloody thing,
Forgotten at foot of castle wall.
A horse
Dead at foot of castle wall.
The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
Or green with yellow rings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches tigers
In red weather.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 