You are here
قراءة كتاب The Poet Li Po A.D. 701-762
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 5
trees.
Captains and soldiers are smeared on the bushes and grass;
The General schemed in vain.
Know therefore that the sword is a cursèd thing
Which the wise man uses only if he must.
III. 16. Drinking Song
See the waters of the Yellow River leap down from Heaven,
Roll away to the deep sea and never turn again!
See at the mirror in the High Hall
Aged men bewailing white locks—
In the morning, threads of silk;
In the evening flakes of snow!
Snatch the joys of life as they come and use them to the fill;
Do not leave the silver cup idly glinting at the moon.
The things Heaven made
Man was meant to use;
A thousand guilders scattered to the wind may come back again.
Roast mutton and sliced beef will only taste well
If you drink with them at one sitting three hundred cups.
Master Ts’ēn Ts’an,
Doctor Tan-ch’iu,
Here is wine: do not stop drinking,
But listen, please, and I will sing you a song.
Roll away to the deep sea and never turn again!
See at the mirror in the High Hall
Aged men bewailing white locks—
In the morning, threads of silk;
In the evening flakes of snow!
Snatch the joys of life as they come and use them to the fill;
Do not leave the silver cup idly glinting at the moon.
The things Heaven made
Man was meant to use;
A thousand guilders scattered to the wind may come back again.
Roast mutton and sliced beef will only taste well
If you drink with them at one sitting three hundred cups.
Master Ts’ēn Ts’an,
Doctor Tan-ch’iu,
Here is wine: do not stop drinking,
But listen, please, and I will sing you a song.
Bells and drums and fine food, what are they to me,
Who only want to get drunk and never again be sober?
The Saints and Sages of old times are all stock and still;
Only the mighty drinkers of wine have left a name behind.
When the king of Ch’ēn gave a feast in the Palace of P’ing-lo
With twenty thousand gallons of wine he loosed mirth and play.
The master of the feast must not cry that his money is all spent;
Let him send to the tavern and fetch more, to keep your glasses filled.
His five-flower horse and thousand-guilder coat—
Let him call his boy to take them along and sell them for good wine,
That drinking together we may drive away the sorrows of a thousand years.
Who only want to get drunk and never again be sober?
The Saints and Sages of old times are all stock and still;
Only the mighty drinkers of wine have left a name behind.
When the king of Ch’ēn gave a feast in the Palace of P’ing-lo
With twenty thousand gallons of wine he loosed mirth and play.
The master of the feast must not cry that his money is all spent;
Let him send to the tavern and fetch more, to keep your glasses filled.
His five-flower horse and thousand-guilder coat—
Let him call his boy to take them along and sell them for good wine,
That drinking together we may drive away the sorrows of a thousand years.
III. 26. The Sun
O Sun that rose in the eastern corner of Earth,
Looking as though you came from under the ground,
When you crossed the sky and entered the deep sea,
Where did you stable your six dragon-steeds?
Now and of old your journeys have never ceased:
Strong were that man’s limbs
Who could run beside you on your travels to and fro.
Looking as though you came from under the ground,
When you crossed the sky and entered the deep sea,
Where did you stable your six dragon-steeds?
Now and of old your journeys have never ceased:
Strong were that man’s limbs
Who could run beside you on your travels to and fro.
The grass does not refuse
To flourish in the spring wind;
The leaves are not angry
At falling through the autumn sky.
Who with whip or spur
Can urge the feet of Time?
The things of the world flourish and decay,
Each at its own hour.
To flourish in the spring wind;
The leaves are not angry
At falling through the autumn sky.
Who with whip or spur
Can urge the feet of Time?
The things of the world flourish and decay,
Each at its own hour.
Hsi-ho, Hsi-ho,[21]
Is it true that once you loitered in the West
While Lu Yang[22] raised his spear, to hold
The progress of your light;
Then plunged and sank in the turmoil of the sea?
Rebels against Heaven, slanderers of Fate;
Many defy the Way.
But I will put | the Whole Lump | of Life in my bag,
And merge my being in the Primal Element.
Is it true that once you loitered in the West
While Lu Yang[22] raised his spear, to hold
The progress of your light;
Then plunged and sank in the turmoil of the sea?
Rebels against Heaven, slanderers of Fate;
Many defy the Way.
But I will put | the Whole Lump | of Life in my bag,
And merge my being in the Primal Element.
IV. 19. On the Banks of Jo-yeh
By the river-side at Jo-yeh,
girls plucking lotus;
Laughing across the lotus-flowers,
each whispers to a friend.
Their powdered cheeks, lit by the sun,
are mirrored deep in the pool;
Their scented skirts, caught by the wind,
flap high in the air.
girls plucking lotus;
Laughing across the lotus-flowers,
each whispers to a friend.
Their powdered cheeks, lit by the sun,
are mirrored deep in the pool;
Their scented skirts, caught by the wind,
flap high in the air.
Who are these gaily riding
along the river-bank,
Three by three and five by five,
glinting through the willow-boughs?
Deep the hoofs of their neighing roans
sink into the fallen leaves;
The riders see, for a moment pause,
and are gone with a pang at heart.
along the river-bank,
Three by three and five by five,
glinting through the willow-boughs?
Deep the hoofs of their neighing roans
sink into the fallen leaves;
The riders see, for a moment pause,
and are gone with a pang at heart.
IV. 24. Ch’ang-kan
Soon after I wore my hair covering my forehead
I was plucking flowers and playing in front of the gate,
When you came by, walking on bamboo-stilts
Along the trellis,[23] playing with the green plums.
We both lived in the village of Ch’ang-kan,
Two children, without hate or suspicion.
At fourteen I became your wife;
I was shame-faced and never dared smile.
I sank my head against the dark wall;
Called to a thousand times, I did not turn.
At fifteen I stopped wrinkling my brow
And desired my ashes to be mingled with your dust.
I thought you were like the man who clung to the bridge:[24]
Not guessing I should climb the Look-for-Husband Terrace,[25]
But next year you went far away,
To Ch’ü-t’ang and the Whirling Water Rocks.
In the fifth month “one should not venture there”
I was plucking flowers and playing in front of the gate,
When you came by, walking on bamboo-stilts
Along the trellis,[23] playing with the green plums.
We both lived in the village of Ch’ang-kan,
Two children, without hate or suspicion.
At fourteen I became your wife;
I was shame-faced and never dared smile.
I sank my head against the dark wall;
Called to a thousand times, I did not turn.
At fifteen I stopped wrinkling my brow
And desired my ashes to be mingled with your dust.
I thought you were like the man who clung to the bridge:[24]
Not guessing I should climb the Look-for-Husband Terrace,[25]
But next year you went far away,
To Ch’ü-t’ang and the Whirling Water Rocks.
In the fifth month “one should not venture there”