| Window on Chinese Poetry |
"To a husband" (Han Dynasty 206 BC - 220 AD) by Su Wu Since you and I exchanged the vow that made us one, no shadow of mistrust has marred our love. Yet that fateful night crept on us unaware, put an end to happiness, and tore you from my arms. You, ever fearing, ever watching for the hour of the march, stood long Looking out into the night. The bright stars had long since hidden in the deep heavens, and the heavy blackness hung blacker still. You took me in your arms and said: "Farewell! The battle calls, and only heaven knows if we shall meet again!" How tight you held my hand! I can see yet the tear that fell upon it, and those words you whispered last I treasure still: "Do not forget the hours of life and love that we have shared. If I live, I shall surely come back to you. If I die, remember that all my thoughts have always been of you." |
| Poem of the month for February |
"Huan-hsi sha" by Chin Kuan Free and easy flying blossoms light as a dream; Limitless the threadlike rain, slender as sorrow. The jeweled curtain loosely hangs from tiny silver hooks. |
"The inlaid harp" by Li Shang Yin I wonder why my inlaid harp has fifty strings, each with its flower-like fret an interval of youth. The sage Chuangzi is day-dreaming, bewitched by butterflies; the spring-heart of Emperor Wang is crying like a cuckoo; mermen weep their pearly tears down a moon-green sea; blue fields are breathing their jade to the sun. And a moment that ought to have lasted for ever Has come and gone before I knew. Adapted from a translation by Witter Bynner |
Archives for 2002 |
"A boat in spring on Ruoya Lake" by Qiwu Qian Thoughtful elation has no end: onward I bear it to whatever comes. And my boat and I, before the evening breeze, passing flowers, entering the lake, turn at nightfall toward the western valley, where I watch the south star over the mountain and a mist that rises, hovering soft, and the low moon slanting through the trees: I choose to put away from me every worldly matter and only be an old man with a fishing pole. Adapted from a translation by Stephen Owen |
"A sigh in the Court of Perpetual Faith" by Wang Changling She brings a broom at dawn to the Golden Palace doorway and dusts the hall from end to end with her round fan, and, for all her jade-whiteness, she envies a crow whose cold wings are kindled in the Court of the Bright Sun. Adapted from a translation by Witter Bynner |
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| Poem of the month for March, 2002 |
| Poem of the month for April, 2002 |
| Poem of the Month for May, 2002 |
| Poem of the Month for June, 2002 |
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"A poor girl " by Qin Taoyu 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 for 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. Adapted from a translation by Witter Bynner |
| Poem of the Month for July, 2002 |
"Mooring at twilight in Yuyi District" by Wei Yingwu Furling my sail near the town of Huai, I find for harbour a little cove where a sudden breeze whips up the waves. The sun is growing dim now and sinks into the dusk. People are coming home. The bright mountain-peak darkens. Wildgeese fly down to an island of white weeds. ...At midnight I think of a northern city-gate, and I hear a bell tolling between me and sleep. |
| Poem of the Month for August, 2002 |
"I travel day and night" by Su Tung Po I travel day and night toward the Yangtze and the sea. Maple leaves, reed flowers: fall has endless sights. On the broad Huai I can't tell if the sky is near or far; green hills keep rising and falling with the boat. Shou Chou: already I have seen the white stone pagoda, though short oars haven't brought us around Yellow grass Hill. Waves calm, wind mild; I look for the landing. My friends have stood a long time in twilight mist. |
| Poem of the Month for September, 2002 |
My Comments I like this poem and the way it presents eager anticipation. He can "see" his destination before it really comes into view. The image of his friends quietly waiting for his arrival is particularly moving. They are gathered on the landing in the twilight mist. That image, together with the calmness of the wind and water, give a feeling of tranquil satisfaction and contentment. Merv Daw |
from "With my brother in the south study, thinking in the moonlight" by Wang Chang-ling Lying on a high seat in the south study, we have lifted the curtain -- and we see the rising moon brighten with pure light the water and the grove, and flow like a wave on our window and our door. It will move through the cycle, full moon and then crescent again, calmly, beyond our wisdom, altering new to old. Adapted from a translation by Witter Bynner |
| Poem of the Month for October, 2002 |
My Comments Long title! This part of the poem is really expressive and thoughtful. It is strange that we need a particularly striking phenomenon to call our attention to the everyday miracle of natural things. The especially beautiful sight of the moonlight flowing "like a wave" has heightened their senses and stimulated thinking about the moon. There it is, going through its endless cycle, reducing human activity to a tiny perspective by its detachment and serenity. It is like a supreme god watching over us, making all our transient fads and worries seem meaningless. Merv Daw |
"On seeing the snow-peak of Zhongnan" by Zu Young See how Zhongnan Mountain soars with its white top over floating clouds and a warm sky opening at the snow-line while the town in the valley grows colder and colder. Adapted from a translation by Witter Bynner |
| Poem of the Month for November, 2002 |
My Comments With such spare description, the imagination is unleashed. Sometimes less is really much better. People who read the poem can construct the picture in their mind, and feel the cold in their own way. No picture with this poem! Merv Daw |
"A song of the palace" by Zhu Qingyu Now that the palace gate has slowly closed on its flowers, ladies file out to their pavilion of jade, abrim to the lips with imperial gossip but not daring to breathe it with a parrot among them. Adapted from a translation by Witter Bynner |
My Comments Who had the brilliant idea of the parrot-spy? Imagine the frustration of the women with so much to talk about and so little confidence to speak! I enjoy the humour of this poem and also its evocative suggestion of the sheltered, inbred sort of court life that women at the palace experienced. Merv Daw |
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| Poem of the Month for December, 2002 |
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Thoughtful elation has no end: onward I bear it to whatever comes. |
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