Farmer Giles has cut his rye;
Oh my! Oh my!
Farmer Bates has cut his wheat;
Och, the thieving hares in it!
Farmer Turvey's cut his barley;
Ripe and early, ripe and early.
And where day breaks, rousing not,
Farmer Weary's cut his throat.
I left Baidi amid ochre clouds --
Crossed a thousand li by day's end.
Monkeys howled and chased along each bank;
My skiff slipped past ten thousand mountains.
The original in Simplified Chinese:
朝辞白帝彩云间
千里江陵一日还
两岸猿声啼不住
轻舟已过万重山
Note: this is poem #269 of the 300 Tang Poems [唐詩三百首.]
If plays count as books, then most of Shakespeare’s plays. I’ve already reread a number of them (e.g. Hamlet, Macbeth, Merchant of Venice, and A Midsummer Night’s Dream.)
I’ve read Whitman’s Leaves of Grass, a couple times in full (and segments of it many times over) and expect to get to it again. I’ve read Voltaire’s Candide a couple times.
I could definitely see rereading Journey to the West, Water Margin, and Romance of the Three Kingdoms, but at this point I’m hoping my Mandarin will get good enough to read them in Simplified Chinese.
I’ve read a number of nonfiction texts multiple times — e.g. Sunzi’s Art of War, Miyamoto Musashi’s Book of Five Rings, Laozi’s Dao De Jing, and Emerson’s Selected Essays.
I’m generally not a fan of rereading books because there is so much awesome stuff out there to be read a first time. For all the reading I’ve done, there is still a massive number of classics that I have yet to touch. Usually there has to be a good reason for a reread, e.g. a new translation that promises to be improved / simplified, the book is just so potent as to still have lessons packed in after the first read, it’s a challenging read and the first go leaves a lot on the table, or — like The Little Prince — its enjoyment-to-time investment ratio is high.
It's all the amusing matters
That sages admire without bounds.
Writers find their way through the void --
Knock on silence to find its sound.
Silk scroll messages from afar,
The bard's words surge forth from the heart.
Words and ash grow to overflow --
Thoughts transcend depths to become art.
Flowery fragrance pungently sprawls;
Plants shoot forth verdant greenery.
The brush winds swirl to whirlwinds
Clouds climb above the academy.
Note: I previously posted other translators’ (Barnstone and Chou) version of this poem as The Joy of Words @ https://berniegourley.com/2024/12/31/the-joy-of-words-by-lu-ji-w-audio/
Original poem in Simplified Chinese:
伊兹事之可乐，固圣贤之所钦。
课虚无以责有，叩寂寞而求音。
函绵邈于尺素，吐滂沛乎寸心。
言恢之而弥广，思按之而逾深。
播芳蕤之馥馥，发青条之森森。
粲风飞而猋竖，郁云起乎翰林。
I'll keep a little tavern
Below the high hill's crest,
Wherein all grey-eyed people
May sit them down and rest.
There shall be plates a-plenty,
And mugs to melt the chill
Of all the grey-eyed people
Who happen up the hill.
There sound will sleep the traveller,
And dream his journey's end,
But I will rouse at midnight
The falling fire to tend.
Aye, 'tis a curious fancy --
But all the good I know
Was taught me out of two grey eyes
A long time ago.
Wu Song (武松) from Water Margin (水浒传.)
Because he’s a traveler with zero f#&ks to give. There is no more freedom to be had than that.
Merry, Merry Sparrow!
Under leaves so green
A happy Blossom
Sees you swift as arrow
Seek your cradle narrow
Near my Bosom.
Pretty, Pretty Robin!
Under leaves so green
A happy Blossom
Hears you sobbing, sobbing,
Pretty, Pretty Robin,
Near my bosom.
When am I coming home? I don't know.
At Bashan, night rains swell Autumn ponds.
Recall, candles in your West Window?
Ah, through night rains, to talk and bond!
The original in Simplified Chinese:
君问归期未有期， 巴山夜雨涨秋池。
何当共剪西窗烛， 却话巴山夜雨时？
Note: This is poem #298 of the 300 Tang Poems [唐诗三百首.]
I like to see it lap the Miles --
And lick the Valleys up --
And stop to feed itself at Tanks --
And then - prodigious step
Around a Pile of Mountains --
And supercilious peer
In Shanties -- by the sides of Roads --
And then a Quarry pare
To fit its sides
And crawl between
Complaining all the while
In horrid -- hooting stanza --
Then chase itself down Hill --
And neigh like Boanerges --
Then - prompter than a Star
Stop - docile and omnipotent
At it's own stable door --
Once there came a man
Who said:
"Range me all men of the world in rows."
And instantly
There was a terrific clamor among the
people
Against being ranged in rows.
There was a loud quarrel, world-wide.
It endured for ages;
And blood was shed
By those who would not stand in rows,
And by those who pined to stand in rows.
Eventually, the man went to death, weeping.
And those who stayed in the bloody scuffle
Knew not the great simplicity.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 