我喜欢的两个老男人,果然不是一家人不进一家门。
行香子 述怀
Random Thoughts, to the Tune of Shinghsiangtse
O the clear moon’s speckles, silvery night!
When filling thy cup be sure to fill it quite!
Strive not for frothy fame or bubble wealth
A passing dream-
A flashing flint –
A shadow’s flight!
O what is knowledge, fine and superfine?
To innocent and simple joys resign!
To be myself and in contentment face
A valley of clouds-
A sweet-toned ch’in-
A jug of wine!
The Sigh of a Peasant Woman
This year the rice crop ripens late,
Waiting for the sharp, dry winter wind to come
But the rains came when the frost was due
The sickle rusted and the rake was covered with mold.
I cried my tears out ,but the rains continued.
How could I bear ti see the ears lying in the mud?
After waiting for a month living in a shack.
The skies having cleared, I carted the crop home.
With sweat on my red shoulders I carried it to town,
The price was low and I begged to sell it like chaff.
Careless of next year’s hunger, I sold the cow
To pay the tax and chopped the doors for fuel.
The government wants tax in cash and not in kind,
For wars in the northwest across a thousand miles;
Good-intentioned officials fill the court, but the people
Suffer more, and I would be better off if drowned!
六月二十七日望湖楼醉书Lakeview Terrace
Come, take from time the leisure’s share you will.
Semi-retirement is retirement still.
Where better could I settle and find a home
Than such a place with peerless lake and hill?
West Lake 西湖
water sparkles on a sunny day;
And misty mountains lend excitement to the rain.
I like to compare the West Lake to “Miss West”,
Pretty in a gay dress, and pretty in simple again.
The light of
Nostalgia-In Response to Tseyu’s Poem( excerpt)
To what can human life be likened?
Perhaps to a wild goose’s footprint on snow.
The claws’ imprint is accidentally left,
But carefree, the bird flies east and west.
赠朝云
For Chaoyun, to the Tune fo Tijenchiao
When time’s due course doth age with white hair crown,
And Vimalakirti so well doth one become,
Fear not the flower petals that do no harm,
Though the heavenly maiden scatters them around,
Thy cherry lips woo, and thy hair glorifies,
So this eternal cycle of life goes on,
Because this sentient heart of love is fond,
Engenders human gestures and mortal ties.
I see thee sit with a sweetly pensive smile,
Setting thy curls, or letting them archly fall.
Tomorrow is Tuanwu Day!
Come, I shall pick thee a corsage of orchids, with a poet’s wile.
Discover the best poem that can be found,
And write it on the glowing lines of thy gown.
临江仙
A Dream, to the Tune of Chiangch’engtse
Ten years have we been parted:
The living and the dead-
Hearing no news,
Not thinking
And yet forgetting nothing!
I cannot come to your grave a thousand miles away
To converse with you and whisper my longing;
And even if we did meet
How would you greet
My weathered face, my hair a frosty white?
Last night
I dreamed I had suddenly returned to our old home.
And saw you sitting there before the familiar dressing table,
We looked at each other in silence
With misty eyes beneath the candle light.
May we year after year
In heartbreak meet,
On the pine-crest
In the moonlight!
水调歌头 丙辰中秋欢饮达旦,大醉,作此篇,兼怀子由
Mid-Autumn Festival,to the Tune of Shuitiaoket’ou
How rare the moon, so round and clear!
With cup in hand I ask of the blue sky,
“I do not know in the celestial sphere
What name this festive night goes by?”
I want to fly home, riding the air,
But fear the ethereal cold up there,
The jade and crystal mansions are so high!
Dancing to my shadow,
I feel no longer the mortal tie.
She rounds the vermilion tower,
Stoops to silk-pad doors,
Shines on those who sleepless lie.
Why does she, bearing us no grudge,
Shine upon our parting, reunion deny?
But rare is perfect happiness-
The moon does wax, the moon does wane,
And so men meet and say goodbye.
And our souls together heavenward fly!
临江仙 夜归临皋
Returning to Linkao at Night, to the Tune of Linchianghsien
After a drink at night ,Tungpo wakes up and gets drunk again.
By the time I come home it seems to be midnight.
The boy servant is asleep snoring like thunder,
And does not answer the door.
Resting on a cane I listen to the murmur of the river.
And feel with a pang that I am not master of my own life.
When can I stop this hustling about?
The night is late ,the air is calm,
And the water a sheen of unruffled light.
Let me take a small boat down the river hence,
To spend beyond the seas the remainder of my days.
西江月 梅
Plum, to the Tune of Hsichiangyueh
Bones of jade ,flesh of snow,
May thy ethereal spirit stand unafraid,
Though the dark mist and the swamp wind blow.
May the sea sprities attend thee,
The paroquets and cockatoos,befriend thee.
Thy white face doth powder wpum;
Vermilion must yet from thy lips learn.
Flesh of snow, bones of jade,
Dream thy dreams, peerless one.
Not for this world thou art made.
题一诗于壁
On Duty at Court on New Year’s eve
On New Year’s Eve, I should go home early,
But am by official duties detained.
With tears in my eyes I hold my brush,
And feel sorry for those in chains.
The poor are trying to make their living.
But fall into the clutches of the law.
I,too, cling to an official job,
And carry on against my wish for rest.
What difference is there between my self
And those more ignorant than I?
Who can set them free for the time being?
Silently I bow my head in shame
The valley pf Yuntang( excerpt)
When a young bamboo sprouts, it is onlu an inch long, but the joints and leaves are already latent in it. All nature grows this way, whether it be cicadas and snakes, or bamboos that shoot up by joint and leaf by leaf. Where is the bamboo? Therefore, in painting bamboos, one must have bamboo formed in one’s breast; at the time of painting, one concentrates and sees what one wants to paint. Immediately one follows the idea, handles one’s brush to pursue the image just seen, like a hawk swooping down on a rabbit. With a moment’s hesitation, it would be lost.
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