Tag Archives: Chinese Poetry

“Drunk in the Fairyland” by Huang Tingjian [w/ Audio]

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In the face of heavy morning cloud again
   And drizzling evening rain,
 Leaning on each other, rugged the hills remain.

The Gorge of Witch and lofty peaks
   Lock in the Southern Palace rosy cheeks.

In spring the halberds move in force,
   Maids in fair dress welcome heroes on horse,
 To the riverside town they go only.

I come to the wasteland a thousand miles away,
   With my shadow so lonely.

How can I become cheerful and gay?

It is said the Southern land is so high,
   It nearly scrapes the sky.
 To the capital I stretch my eye,
   I see but misty water far and nigh.

When I drank in the hall,
   My friends were talents all.

Songstresses sang with rosy face
   And dancers danced with grace,
 Drunk, they intoxicated the place. 

Hearing the cuckoo's home-going song
   All the night long, 
 Could I resist my yearning strong?

Translation: Xu Yuanchong [translator]. 2021. Deep, Deep the Courtyard. [庭院深深.] Cite Publishing: Kuala Lumpur, pp. 191-192.

“Placid” [Poetry Style #2] by Sikong Tu [w/ Audio]

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It thrives in silence and with calm --
   ephemeral and gossamer.
 It's ever-flowing harmony,
   gliding with a solitary crane,
   wisping like the gentle breezes
      that rustle and billow one's robe,
   trilling softly like a bamboo flute.
 How does one become one with it?
   A chance meeting, lucked into, but
      don't lunge forward, or it'll vanish.
 When you think it's attainable,
   it twists in your hand and is gone.

NOTE: The late Tang Dynasty poet, Sikong Tu (a.k.a. Ssŭ-k‘ung T‘u,) wrote an ars poetica entitled Twenty-Four Styles of Poetry. It presents twenty-four poems that are each in a different tone, reflecting varied concepts from Taoist philosophy and aesthetics. Above is a translation of the second of the twenty-four poems.

“Song of More Sugar” by Liu Guo [w/ Audio]

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Reeds cover the tiny island.
   Shallow streams cut through the cold sand.

I see the Southern Tower for 
   The first time in two decades.
 
How many days since I moored 
   Under this willow tree?
   Mid-Autumn Festival is almost here.

On the rocks of Yellow Crane,
 Do my friends still reside?

This old place has many new sorrows.

If I bought wine and we cast off together,
 Could we be young again?

“Written While Moored on the Qinhuai River” by Du Mu [w/ Audio]

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Mist touches cold water and moon embraces the sand.

   I’m moored for the night near a tavern on the Qinhuai.

   The singing girl doesn’t know the empire is in bitter ruin.

   Across the river I hear her singing “Blossom of the Inner Court.”

Translation: Barnstone, Tony and Ping, Chou. 2005. The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry: From Ancient to Contemporary. New York: Anchor Books.

Hanshan 131 [w/ Audio]

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During thirty years since my birth
 I've hiked thousands of miles,
 seen green grass converging with a river
 and red dust rising at the frontiers,
 searched in vain for immortals and elixirs,
 studying books and histories.
 Today I've returned to Cold Mountain.
 I lie back in a stream, washing out my ears.

Translation: Barnstone, Tony and Ping, Chou. 2005. The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry: From Ancient to Contemporary. New York: Anchor Books.

“Seeking a Hermit-Sage in Vain” by Jia Dao [w/ Audio]

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I question a local boy under a pine.
 He says, "Teacher is gathering herbs
          right here on the mountain...
 But who can say where?
 The mountain is thick with clouds."

“On Laozi” by Bai Juyi [w/ Audio]

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"The ignorant speak, while the wise keep silent."
 I read the words of Laozi.
 But if Laozi knew the Way,
 Why did he write those five thousand characters?

“Night Rain” by Bai Juyi [w/ Audio]

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Chirp of an early cricket. Silence.
 The lamp dies then flares up again.
 Night must be raining outside the window:
     plink, plink on the banana leaves.

Translation: Barnstone, Tony and Ping, Chou. 2005. The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry: From Ancient to Contemporary. New York: Anchor Books.

“Treading on Grass” by He Zhu [w/ Audio]

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On winding pool with willows dim,
   At narrow strait the lovebirds swim.
 Green duckweeds float,
   Barring the lotus-picking boat.
 Nor butterflies nor bees
   Love fragrance from the withered trees.
 When her red petals fall apart,
   The lotus bloom 's bitter at heart.

 The setting sun greets rising tide,
   The floating clouds bring rain.
 The swaying lotus seems to confide,
    Her sorrow to the poet in vain.

Then she would not be wed to vernal breeze.
   What could she do now autumn drives away wild geese?

Translation: Xu Yuanchong [translator]. 2021. Deep, Deep the Courtyard. [庭院深深.] Cite Publishing: Kuala Lumpur, p.226.

“West River Moon” by Su Shi [w/ Audio]

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Wavelet on wavelet glimmers by the shore;
 Cloud on cloud dimly appears in the sky.
 Unsaddled is my white-jadelike horse;
 Drunk, asleep in the sweet grass I'll lie.
 My horse's hoofs may break, I'm afraid,
 The breeze-rippled brook paved by moonlit jade.
 I tether my horse to a bough of green willow.
 Near the bridge where I pillow
 My head on arms and sleep till the cuckoo's song awakes
  A spring daybreak.

Translation: Xu Yuanchong [translator]. 2021. Deep, Deep the Courtyard. [庭院深深.] Cite Publishing: Kuala Lumpur, p. 238