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.
a meandering melody
hijacked my bliss track
and, as I drifted in the void,
my spine straightened,
my breath slowed,
and I tumbled -- for a time --
through eternity.
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.]
impatient child
gives pollen fluff a blow;
it does not yield.
I came across a turbinate shell
While walking forest, glade, and dell.
With fingernail, I gave a tap
To learn if its tenant was in nap.
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。
Autumn sunlight
strikes dry pampas grass
and it flares gold.
I saw a puppy the other day,
And I had my fears
That it might grow into its big feet,
But not into those ears!
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.
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.
