Poetry from the Issues
From Issue #1, Spring 1996:
DWELLING BY A STREAM
Liu Zongyuan
I had so long been troubled by official hat and robe
That I am glad to be an exile here in this wild southland.
I am a neighbour now of planters and reapers.
I am a guest of the mountains and woods.
I plough in the morning, turning dewy-grasses,
And at evening tie my fisher-boat, breaking the quiet stream.
Back and forth I go, scarcely meeting anyone,
And sing a long poem and gaze at the blue sky.
溪居
柳宗元
久为簪组累， 幸此南夷谪。
闲依农圃邻， 偶似山林客。
晓耕翻露草， 夜榜响溪石。
来往不逢人， 长歌楚天碧。
From Issue #2, Autumn 1996:
THOUGHTS IN THE COLD
Li Shangyin
You are gone. The river is high at my door.
Cicadas are mute on dew-laden boughs.
This is a moment when thoughts enter deep.
I stand alone for a long while.
. . . The North Star is nearer to me now than spring,
And couriers from your southland never arrive —
Yet I doubt my dream on the far horizon
That you have found another friend.
凉思
李 商 隱
客 去 波 平 槛
蝉 休 露 满 枝
永 怀 当 此 节
倚 立 自 移 时
倚 斗 兼 春 远
南 陵 寓 使 迟
天 涯 占 梦 数
疑 误 有 新 知
From Issue #4, Autumn 1997:
WHILE VISITING ON THE SOUTH STREAM
THE TAOIST PRIEST CH’ANG
Liu Changqing
Walking along a little path,
I find a footprint on the moss,
A white cloud low on the quiet lake,
Grasses that sweeten an idle door,
A pine grown greener, with the rain,
A brook that comes from a mountain source-
And, mingling with Truth among the flowers,
I have forgotten what to say.
寻南溪常道士
刘长卿
一路经行处， 莓苔见履痕。
白云依静渚， 春草闭闲门。
过雨看松色， 随山到水源。
溪花与禅意， 相对亦忘言。
From Issue #5, Spring 1998:
Ch’ên Tzŭ-ang
ON A GATE-TOWER AT YU-CHOU
Where, before me, are the ages that have gone?
And where, behind me, are the coming generations?
I think of heaven and earth, without limit, without end,
And I am all alone and my tears fall down.
登幽州台歌
陈子昂
前不见古人，后不见来者。
念天地之悠悠，独怆然而涕下。
From Issue #6, Autumn 1998:
REMEMBERING MY BROTHERS
ON A MOONLIGHT NIGHT
A wanderer hears drums portending battle.
By the first call of autumn from a wild goose at the border,
He knows that the dews tonight will be frost.
…How much brighter the moonlight is at home!
O my brothers, lost and scattered,
What is life to me without you?
Yet if missives in time of peace go wrong —
What can I hope for during war?
月夜忆舍弟
杜甫
戍鼓断人行， 秋边一雁声。
露从今夜白， 月是故乡明。
有弟皆分散， 无家问死生。
寄书长不达， 况乃未休兵。
From Issue #9, Spring 2000:
FALLING PETALS
Li Shangyin
Gone is the guest from the Chamber of Rank,
And petals, confused in my little garden,
Zigzagging down my crooked path,
Escort like dancers the setting sun.
Oh, how can I bear to sweep them away?
To a sad-eyed watcher they never return.
Heart’s fragrance is spent with the ending of spring
And nothing left but a tear-stained robe.
落花
李商隐
高阁客竟去， 小园花乱飞。
参差连曲陌， 迢递送斜晖。
肠断未忍扫， 眼穿仍欲归。
芳心向春尽， 所得是沾衣。
From Issue #10, Autumn 2000:
MEMORIES IN EARLY WINTER
South go the wild geese, for leaves are now falling,
And the water is cold with a wind from the north.
I remember my home; but the Hsiang River’s curves
Are walled by the clouds of this southern country.
I go forward. I weep till my tears are spent.
I see a sail in the far sky.
Where is the ferry? Will somebody tell me?
It’s growing rough. It’s growing dark.
早寒有怀
孟浩然
木落雁南渡，北风江上寒。
我家襄水曲，遥隔楚云端。
乡泪客中尽，孤帆天际看。
迷津欲有问，平海夕漫漫。
From Issue #11, Spring 2001:
Ch’in T’ao-yŭ
A POOR GIRL
Living under a thatch roof, never wearing fragrant silk
She longs to arrange a marriage, but how could she dare?
Who would know her simple face the loveliest of them all
When we choose tor worldliness, not for worth?
Her fingers embroider beyond compare,
But she cannot vie with painted brows;
And year after year she has sewn gold thread
On bridal robes for other girls.
贫女
秦韬玉
蓬門未识绮罗香，拟托良媒益自伤。
谁爱风流高格调，共怜时世俭梳妆。
敢将十指夸针巧，不把双眉斗画长。
苦恨年年压金线，为他人作嫁衣裳。
From Issue #12, Autumn 2001:
ON BEING SIXTY
Bai Juyi (772–846 CE)
Addressed to Liu Mēng-tē, who had asked for a poem. He was the same age as Bai Juyi.
Between thirty and forty, one is distracted by the Five Lusts;
Between seventy and eighty, one is a prey to a hundred diseases.
But from fifty to sixty one is free from all ills;
Calm and still — the heart enjoys rest.
I have put behind me Love and Greed; I have done with Profit and Fame;
I am still short of illness and decay and far from decrepit age.
Strength of limb I still possess to seek the rivers and hills;
Still my heart has spirit enough to listen to flutes and strings.
At leisure I open new wine and taste several cups;
Drunken I recall old poems and sing a whole volume.
Mēng-tē has asked for a poem and herewith I exhort him
Not to complain of three-score, “the time of obedient ears.” [1]
[1] Confucius said that it was not till sixty that “his ears obeyed him.” This age was therefore called “the time of obedient ears.”
白居易
「耳顺吟，寄敦诗、梦得」
三十四十五欲牵，七十八十百病缠。
五十六十却不恶，恬淡清净心安然。
已过爱贪声利后，犹在病羸昏耄前。
未无筋力寻山水，尚有心情听管弦。
闲开新酒尝数醆，醉忆旧诗吟一篇。
敦诗梦得且相劝，不用嫌他耳顺年。
From Issue #16, Autumn 2003:
OF ONE IN THE FORBIDDEN CITY
Zhang Hu
When the moonlight, reaching a tree by the gate,
Shows her a quiet bird on its nest,
She removes her jade hairpins and sits in the shadow
And puts out a flame where a moth was flying.
赠内人
张祜
禁门宫树月痕过， 媚眼惟看宿鹭窠。
斜拔玉钗灯影畔， 剔开红焰救飞蛾。
From Issue #20, Autumn 2005:
AT CHUZHOU ON THE WESTERN STREAM
Wei Yingwu
Where tender grasses rim the stream
And deep boughs trill with mango-birds,
On the spring flood of last night’s rain
The ferry-boat moves as though someone were poling.
滁州西涧
韦应物
独怜幽草涧边生， 上有黄鹂深树鸣。
春潮带雨晚来急， 野渡无人舟自横。
From Issue #20, Autumn 2005:
A GREETING ON THE HUAI RIVER
TO MY OLD FRIENDS FROM LIANGCHUAN
Wei Yingwu
We used to be companions on the Jiang and the Han,
And as often as we met, we were likely to be tipsy.
Since we left one another, floating apart like clouds,
Ten years have run like water-till at last we join again.
And we talk again and laugh again just as in earlier days,
Except that the hair on our heads is tinged now with grey.
Why not come along, then, all of us together,
And face the autumn mountains and sail along the Huai?
淮上喜会梁川故人
韦应物
江汉曾为客， 相逢每醉还。
浮云一别后， 流水十年间。
欢笑情如旧， 萧疏鬓已斑。
何因北归去？ 淮上对秋山。
From Issue #20, Autumn 2005:
SETTING SAIL ON THE YANGZI
TO SECRETARY YUAN
Wei Yingwu
Wistful, away from my friends and kin,
Through mist and fog I float and float
With the sail that bears me toward Loyang.
In Yangzhou trees linger bell-notes of evening,
Marking the day and the place of our parting….
When shall we meet again and where?
…Destiny is a boat on the waves,
Borne to and fro, beyond our will.
初发扬子寄元大校书
韦应物
凄凄去亲爱， 泛泛入烟雾。
归棹洛阳人， 残钟广陵树。
今朝为此别， 何处还相遇。
世事波上舟， 沿洄安得住。