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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." |
"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 |
Collection One |
"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 |
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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 |
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"Thoughtful elation has no end: onward I bear it to whatever comes." |