Window on Chinese Poetry |
"A poem to my brothers and sisters" by Wang Wei Hidden on this mountain, many Buddhist monks chant sutras, meditate together; men on distant walls gazing towards the peaks see only white, enshrouding clouds. To read my comment about this poem click HERE |
| Wang Wei Poems to read a short biography of Wang Wei, click HERE |
"Wei City Song" by Wang Wei Wei City morning rain dampens the light dust. By this inn green, newly green willows. I urge you to drink another cup of wine; west of Yang Pass there are no old friends. From a translation by Mike O'Connor To read my comment about this poem, and comments by other readers, click HERE |
"On parting with spring" by Wang Wei Day after day we cannot help growing older. Year after year spring cannot help seeming younger. Come, let us enjoy our wine cup today, not pity the flowers fallen! |
"Magnolia Hermitage" by Wang Wei The autumn hills hoard scarlet from the setting sun. Flying birds chase their mates. Now and then patches of blue sky break clear; tonight the evening mists find nowhere to gather. |
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The Beautiful Xi Shi by Wang Wei Since beauty is honoured all over the Empire, how could Xi Shi remain humbly at home? Washing clothes at dawn by a southern lake -- and that evening a great lady in a palace of the north: Lowly one day, no different from the others, the next day exalted, everyone praising her. No more would her own hands powder her face or arrange on her shoulders a silken robe. And the more the King loved her, the lovelier she looked, blinding him away from wisdom. Girls who had once washed silk beside her were kept at a distance from her chariot. And none of the girls in her neighbours' houses by pursing their brows could copy her beauty. |
A Green Stream by Wang Wei I have sailed the River of Yellow Flowers, borne by the channel of a green stream, rounding ten thousand turns through the mountains on a journey of less than thirty miles. Rapids hum over heaped rocks; but where light grows dim in the thick pines, the surface of an inlet sways with nut-horns and weeds are lush along the banks. Down in my heart I have always been as pure as this limpid water is. Oh, to remain on a broad flat rock and to cast a fishing-line forever! |
"A View of the Han River" by Wang Wei With its three southern branches reaching the border, and its nine streams touching the gateway of Jing, this river runs beyond heaven and earth, where the colour of mountains both is and is not. The dwellings of men seem floating along on ripples of the distant sky. These beautiful days here in Xiangyang intoxicate my old mountain heart! |
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