Conversation
in the Mountains
You ask why I nestle in the green mountains.
I laugh but answer not—my heart is serene.
Peach blossoms and flowing waters go
without a trace.
There is another Heaven and Earth beyond
the world of man.
On Climbing
in Nan-king to the Terrace of Phoenixes
Phoenixes that played here once, so that the place was
named for them,
Have abandoned it now to
this desolated river;
The paths of Wu Palace
are crooked with weeds;
The garments of Chin are
ancient dust.
...Like this green
horizon halving the
Like this
A cloud has risen between
the Light of Heaven and me,
To hide his city from my
melancholy heart.
Seeing a
friend off
White water rushes round the eastern town.
Right here is where, alone and restless, he
Begins a journey of a thousand miles.*
While travelers' intents are fleeting clouds,
A friend's affection is a setting sun.
He waves good-bye, and as he goes from here,
His dappled horse lets out a lonely neigh.
[*This line has become today an oft-repeated way of describing a journey in
To Wang Lun
Li Po takes a boat and is about to depart
When suddenly he hears the sound of footsteps
and singing on the shore.
The water in the Peach Blossom pool is
a thousand feet deep
But not as deep as Wang Lun's parting love for me.
Visiting a
Taoist on
Amongst bubbling streams
a dog barks; peach blossom
is heavy with dew; here
and there a deer can
be seen in forest glades!
No sound of the mid-day
bell enters this fastness
where blue mist rises
from bamboo groves;
down from a high peak
hangs a waterfall;
none knows where he has gone, so sadly I rest,
with my back leaning
against a pine.
You ask why I
make my home in the mountain forest
You ask why I make my home in the mountain forest,
and I smile, and am silent,
and even my soul remains quiet:
it lives in the other world
which no one owns.
The peach trees blossom,
The water flows.
Parting
white water rolls past the eastern city.
Once it has been uprooted,
the tumbleweed travels forever.
Drifting clouds like a wanderer's mind;
sunset, like the heart of your old friend.
We turn, pause, look back and wave,
Even our ponies look back and whine.
Drinking
Alone by moonlight
Among the flowers a pot of wine.
I drink alone, no friend is by.
I raise my cup, invite the moon.
And my shadow, now we are three.
But the moon knows nothing of drinkings.
And my shadow only apes my doings.
Yet moon and shadow shall be my company.
Spring is the time to have fun.
I sing, the moon lingers.
I dance, my shadow tangles.
While I’m still sober, we are gay together.
When I get drunk, we go our different ways.
We pledge a friendship no mortal knows.
And swear to meet on heaven’s Silver river.
In the Quiet
Night
The floor before my bed is bright:
Moonlight—like hoarfrost—in my room.
I lift my head and watch the moon.
I drop my head and think of home.
To Tu Fu from
You ask how I spend my time—
I nestle against a tree trunk
and listen to autumn winds
in the pines all night and day.
The local poets bore me.
My thoughts remain with you,
like the
The Cold
Clear Spring at Nanyang
A pity it is evening, yet
I do love the water of this spring
seeing how clear it is, how clean;
rays of sunset gleam on it,
lighting up its ripples, making it
one with those who travel
the roads; I turn and face
the moon; sing it a song, then
listen to the sound of the wind
amongst the pines.
Self-Abandonment
I sat drinking and did not notice the dusk,
Till falling petals filled the folds of my dress.
Drunken I rose and walked to the moonlit stream;
The birds were gone, and men also few.
Clearing at
dawn
The fields are chill, the sparse rain has stopped;
The colours of Spring teem on every side.
With leaping fish the blue pond is full;
With singing thrushes the green boughs droop.
The flowers of the field have dabbled their powdered
cheeks;
The mountain grasses are bent level at the waist.
By the bamboo stream the last fragment of cloud
Blown by the wind slowly scatters away.
Thanks to Lata Iyer for submitting these compositions