Spring rains spur roadside flower growth,
and wildflowers creep to the mountain's base.
Hiking deep up the valley along the stream,
I see and hear hundreds of orioles.
Looking skyward, a cloud becomes a dragon or snake,
But then breaks up, giving way to blue sky.
Lying in the forest under hanging vines,
I can't tell north from south.
Drunk, I'd keep a lamp lit to find my sword,
The blare of horns sounded throughout the camp.
Soldiers ate meat under waving banners;
The military band played boisterous tunes.
Autumn brought our troops to the battlefield.
Carried by a charger at full gallop,
My bow thwipped, sending swift arrows flying.
We restored Imperial lands, boldly,
And won great fame for fighting gallantly,
But fame grows thin and gray just like my hair.
The maples have grown old;
Orchards have begun to wither.
The reds and greens have faded.
Climbing the heights, I
Feel the chill of late Autumn.
A ceaseless pounding sound
Drowns out the setting sun.
Remembered sorrows flock
To mind, making new sorrows.
We are separated
By a thousand miles;
From our two distant places
We can't even meet in dreams.
The rain stops, and the sky clears;
One can see the twelve green peaks.
Speechless, who could understand
My angst, as I stand cliffside.
I can write of my grief, but
Will the clouds bring a reply?
Thousands of willow twigs beyond my bower sway;
They try to retain spring, but she won't stay
For long and goes away.
In vernal breeze the willow down still wafts with grace;
It tries to follow spring to find her dwelling place.
Hills and rills greened all over, I hear cuckoos sing;
Feeling no grief, why should they give me a sharp sting?
With wine cup in hand, I ask spring who won't reply.
When evening grizzles,
A cold rain drizzles.
Translation: Xu Yuanchong [translator]. 2021. Deep, Deep the Courtyard. [庭院深深.] Cite Publishing: Kuala Lumpur, pp. 146-147.
Old trees with tangled hanging tassels
by a deserted temple open to the river.
Rain, rain threw down the clay statues
and wind blew down this ancient building.
Wild birds nest in dusty shrines,
fishermen hold a bamboo lottery cup.
About to play the tune "Mountain Ghost," I stop:
the Verses of Chu make me too sad.
Translation: Barnstone, Tony and Ping, Chou. 2005. The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry: From Ancient to Contemporary. New York: Anchor Books.
Sound of water cascading over rock.
A silent mountain in the night.
Bright moonlight washes over the pines.
One thousand peaks, all in one color.
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.
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?
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.
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
Tiger Riding for Beginners 