OUR EYES NO LONGER CLEAR AS THE NEW MOON.... BUT IT IS NOT TRUE! OUR MIRRORS ARE BEWITCHED WITH WINTER, AND THEY LIE! IT IS THE MIRRORS THAT MAKE OUR HAIR LIKE SNOW AND WRINKLE OUR YOUNG FACES! BUT WICKED WINTER CAN BEWITCH OUR MIRRORS ONLY, NOT OURSELVES.... FOREVER, WE ARE UNCHANGED.” [Wang Chang-ling]

THE MINIATURE PAVILION

HERE IS THE LITTLE LAKE, HERE THE LITTLE PAVILION OF WHITE PORCELAIN. THE TINY JADE BRIDGE CURVES ... THE BACK OF A CROUCHING LION.

BOON COMPANIONS GATHER IN THE MINIATURE HALL. THEY CHATTER AND DRINK WINE.... THEY STARE AT THE FLICKERING REFLECTIONS OF PEONIES THAT LINE THE BANK. SOME OF THE COMPANIONS, LONG SLEEVES PUSHED BACK, CAPS LOW OVER EYES, ARE WRITING POEMS.

THE ARCH OF THE BRIDGE IS A CRESCENT MOON.... THE REFLECTED PEONIES A COMPANY OF DANCING GIRLS. [Li Po]

PICKING THE LOTUS

THE HARVEST MOON IS BURNING THE WATERS OF SOUTH LAKE. DRIFTING ALONE, I LEAN DOWN TO PICK WHITE LOTUS LILIES.

FIERCE DESIRE PULLS ME.... I YEARN TO TELL THEM OF MY PASSION. ALAS, MY BOAT FLOATS AWAY AT MERCY OF THE MOVING CURRENT. MY HEART LOOKS BACK IN SADNESS. [Li Po]

A FLUTE AT NIGHT

HERE ON THE FAR SOUTHERN BORDER THE SAND BELOW THE MOUNTAIN LIES LIKE A FIELD OF SNOW, THE MOONLIGHT IS LIKE FROST ALONG THE CITY-WALL. SOMEONE SOMEWHERE PLAYING ON HIS FLUTE HAS MADE THE NORTHERN SOLDIERS HOMESICK ALL NIGHT LONG. [Li Yi]

WATCHING AND WONDERING

HIGH ON A HILL, LOOKING DOWN ON THE WINDY LAKE. SEE: A LITTLE ROCKING BOAT, STORM-TOSSED LIKE OUR LIFE TOGETHER. NOW MIST HAS HIDDEN BOAT AND JOURNEY.

OVER THE MIST THE SUN SETS FAR OFF IN HEAVEN. ONLY HILLS ARE RED: FIELD, HOLLOW AND LAKE ARE BLUE WITH SHADOW.

NOW ISLANDS IN THE LAKE ARE BLACK PEARLS SET IN AMETHYST. NOW THAT WOODED HILL, A HEAD OF WAVING WOMAN’S HAIR, IS BLACK. AND SEE, A CRESCENT COMB OF SILVER MOON.

SAD AND HAPPY, I PICK UP MY LUTE AND SING UNTIL THE STARS GROW PALE. [Tsiang-Tien]

BEST HAPPINESS OF ALL

I AM OLD AND I AM BORED. I WAS NEVER VERY WISE AND MY MIND HAS NEVER WALKED MUCH FURTHER THAN MY FEET. ONLY MY FOREST, MY FOREST ... I GO BACK AND BACK TO WANDER THERE.

THERE BLUE FINGERS OF THE MOON STILL PLAY ON MY OLD LUTE. THERE WIND SCATTERS CLOUDS AND COMES DOWN TO FLUTTER MY ROBE.

YOU ASK ME WHAT IS THE BEST HAPPINESS OF ALL? IN THE FOREST IT IS SWEET TO HEAR A GIRL SINGING ON THE PATH, AFTER SHE HAS STOPPED TO ASK HER WAY, AND THANKED YOU WITH A SMILE. [Wang-Wei]

THE BLUE ROBE

BRING ME NO MORE FLOWERS. BRING ME ONLY CYPRESS BOUGHS TO SHROUD MY FACE.

AFTER SUNSET IN THE MOUNTAINS, I WILL PUT ON MY BLUE ROBE WITH LONG SLEEVES, AND GO OUT TO SLEEP AMONG THE BAMBOOS THAT SHE LOVED. [Tu Fu]

THE ASHES OF MY HOUSE

WHEN I RETURNED TO THE HOUSE WHERE I HAD BEEN A HAPPY CHILD ... ONLY A PILE OF ASHES WHERE IT HAD STOOD.

I WEPT LONG, AND TO FORGET MY WEEPING, I SAILED OUT ON THE VAST CALM SEA. ON THESE WATERS, IN A STAR-SAPPHIRE NIGHT, I PLAYED MY FLUTE TO THE SUMMER MOON ... MY GRIEF MY MELODY. BUT THE MOON, A WOMAN’S FACE, SOON VEILED ITSELF WITH CLOUD.

I SAILED BACK TO SHORE, I WALKED AWAY FROM THE WATERS TO THE FRIENDLY FOREST.... BUT THERE THE TREES TOO TURNED AWAY FROM ME. I KNEW THEN HAPPINESS WAS BURNED FOREVER UNDER A PILE OF ASHES.

RUNNING BACK TO THE SEA, I DECIDED TO DROWN MYSELF. BUT A WHITE BOAT SAILED ALONG THE SHORE. A YOUNG GIRL WAS SAILING IT.

O YOU WHO SMILED AT ME THAT DAY WHEN I WAS SUFFERING, O YOU WHO RESCUED ME FROM GRIEF ... I WILL BUILD AGAIN THE HAPPY HOUSE OF MY CHILDHOOD, IN YOUR HEART. [Tu Fu]

THE MAIDEN LO-FO

GOING TO GATHER LEAVES, LO-FO PUTS UP HER GLEAMING HAIR. SHE PUTS A PEARL IN EACH PEARL EAR; SHE WEARS A DRESS OF PINK AND A DRESS OF YELLOW. HER BASKET BEARS A LITTLE TWIST OF SILK.

ON THE SOUTH ROAD THE GOVERNOR OF THE PROVINCE CALLS TO HIS MEN TO STOP THE HORSES. “ASK THAT PRETTY ONE HER NAME. FIND OUT HER AGE FOR ME.”

SAID LO-FO: “IN THE COUNTRYSIDE OF TSIN THERE LIVES A GIRL NAMED LO-FO. SHE IS NOT TWENTY YET, BUT NEITHER IS SHE A CHILD, FOR SHE HAS PASSED SIXTEEN.”

THE GOVERNOR HESITATES. “ASK THE LOVELY MAIDEN IF SHE WISHES TO COME WITH ME IN MY CHARIOT.”

LO-FO LOWERS HER BLACK EYES. “SURELY THE GOVERNOR HAS A WIFE IN THE SOUTH HE LOVES? SO EVEN IN TSIN, THE MAID LO-FO HAS HER YOUNG MAN WHOM SHE HAS PROMISED, WHOM SHE LOVES.” [Anonymous]

LOOKING INTO MIST

THE ASHES LIE CHILL AND GRAY IN THE GOLDEN BRAZIER. MY COVERLETS ROLL IN RED WAVES AS I TOSS IN MY BED. I THROW THEM OFF AWAY FROM ME; THEY FLOAT DOWN LIKE WAVES ON THE FLOOR. BUT I HAVE NO STRENGTH TO RISE AND BRUSH OUT MY LONG HAIR; EVEN THE JADE COMB IS TOO HEAVY FOR MY HAND. LET THE DUST SETTLE ON MY DRESSING-TABLE, DULLING MY GLEAMING BOTTLES.

NOW THE SUN BEGINS TO GLITTER THROUGH MY CURTAINS. ITS RISING WILL CAST BITTER SHADOWS OF SORROW IN MY HEART. I WISH TO SPEAK, I WANT TO CRY OUT; BUT FROM MY THROAT I CRUSH BACK MY CRIES INTO MY HEART. THIS IS NEW FOR ME, PAIN WHICH COMES NOT FROM TOO MUCH WINE, NOR FROM THE SADNESS OF APPROACHING AUTUMN.

NO, IT IS OVER NOW AND FINISHED. TODAY HE GOES AWAY. EVEN IF I SANG THE SWEET STAY-BY-ME SONG TO HIM TEN THOUSAND TIMES, HE WOULD NOT STAY. MY THOUGHTS MUST TRAVEL THE LONG ROAD TO THE SOUTH COUNTRY: HIS COUNTRY, VERY FAR AWAY.

SEE THE MIST AROUND MY PAVILION: BEFORE MY EYES THERE IS MIST ALL ABOUT. IT IS THE IMAGE OF MY SADNESS, THE REFLECTION OF MY DULL, STILL EYES. FOREVER WILL MY DULL EYES STARE AT YOU, PALE MIST, MY EYES THAT NEVER WILL LIGHT UP AGAIN. [Li Yi-hang]

THE WILLOW LEAF

THAT MAIDEN, DREAMING AT HER WINDOW-LEDGE, LEANING ON HER SOFT WHITE ARMS ... I DO NOT LOVE HER FOR HER GREAT MANSION ON THE SHORE OF THE YELLOW RIVER. I LOVE HER BECAUSE SHE HAS LET FALL, FLOATING DOWN INTO THE STREAM, A LITTLE WILLOW LEAF.

I DO NOT LOVE THE EAST WIND BECAUSE IT CARRIES TO ME THE SCENT OF THOSE PEACH-TREES THAT ARE LIKE SNOW ON THE MOUNTAINS. I LOVE IT BECAUSE IT HAS CARRIED THE LITTLE WILLOW LEAF TO MY BOAT.

AND THE LITTLE WILLOW LEAF ... I DO NOT LOVE IT BECAUSE IT REMINDS ME THAT SOFT SPRING HAS COME