Loud talk And simple feasting: Discussion of philosophy, Investigation of subtleties.
Tongues loosened And minds at one.
Hearts refreshed By discharge of emotion!
CLIMBING A MOUNTAIN
By Tao-yun (_circa_ A.D. 400), wife of General w.a.n.g Ning-chih. The general was so stupid that she finally deserted him.
High rises the Eastern Peak Soaring up to the blue sky.
Among the rocks--an empty hollow, Secret, still, mysterious!
Uncarved and unhewn, Screened by nature with a roof of clouds.
Times and Seasons, what things are you Bringing to my life ceaseless change?
I will lodge for ever in this hollow Where Springs and Autumns unheeded pa.s.s.
SAILING HOMEWARD
By Chan Fang-sheng (fourth century A.D.)
Cliffs that rise a thousand feet Without a break, Lake that stretches a hundred miles Without a wave, Sands that are white through all the year, Without a stain, Pine-tree woods, winter and summer Ever-green, Streams that for ever flow and flow Without a pause, Trees that for twenty thousand years Your vows have kept, You have suddenly healed the pain of a traveller"s heart, And moved his brush to write a new song.
FIVE "TZU-YEH" SONGS
At the time when blossoms Fall from the cherry-tree: On a day when yellow birds Hovered in the branches-- You said you must stop, Because your horse was tired: I said I must go, Because my silkworms were hungry.
All night I could not sleep Because of the moonlight on my bed.
I kept on hearing a voice calling: Out of Nowhere, Nothing answered "yes."
I will carry my coat and not put on my belt; With unpainted eyebrows I will stand at the front window.
My tiresome petticoat keeps on flapping about; If it opens a little, I shall blame the spring wind.
I heard my love was going to Yang-chou And went with him as far as Ch"u-shan.
For a moment when you held me fast in your outstretched arms I thought the river stood still and did not flow.
I have brought my pillow and am lying at the northern window, So come to me and play with me awhile.
With so much quarrelling and so few kisses How long do you think our love can last?
THE LITTLE LADY OF CH"ING-HSI
(A CHILDREN"S SONG)
Her door opened on the white water Close by the side of the timber bridge: That"s where the little lady lived All alone without a lover.
PLUCKING THE RUSHES
(A BOY AND GIRL ARE SENT TO GATHER RUSHES FOR THATCHING)
Anon. (fourth century)
Green rushes with red shoots, Long leaves bending to the wind-- You and I in the same boat Plucking rushes at the Five Lakes.
We started at dawn from the orchid-island: We rested under the elms till noon.
You and I plucking rushes Had not plucked a handful when night came!
BALLAD OF THE WESTERN ISLAND IN THE NORTH COUNTRY
"Seeing the plum-tree I thought of the Western Island And I plucked a branch to send to the North Country.
I put on my dress of apricot-yellow silk And bound up my hair black as the crow"s wing.
But which is the road that leads to the Western Island?
I"ll ask the man at the ferry by the Bridge of Boats.
But the sun is sinking and the orioles flying home: And the wind is blowing and sighing in the walnut-tree.
I"ll stand under the tree just beside the gate: I"ll stand by the door and show off my enamelled hair-pins."
She"s opened the gate, but her lover has not come: She"s gone out at the gate to pluck red lotus.
As she plucks the lotus on the southern d.y.k.e in autumn, The lotus flowers stand higher than a man"s head.
She bends down--and plays with the lotus seeds, The lotus seeds are green like the lake-water.
She gathers the flowers and puts them into her gown-- The lotus-bud that is red all through.
She thinks of her lover, her lover that does not come: She looks up and sees the wild geese flying-- The Western Island is full of wild geese.
To look for her lover she climbs the Blue Tower.
The tower is high: she looks, but cannot see: All day she leans on the balcony rails.
The rail is twisted into a twelve-fold pattern.
She lets fall her hand white like the colour of jade.
She rolls up the awning, she sees the wide sky, And the sea-water waving its vacant blue.
"The sea shall carry my dreams far away, So that you shall be sorry at last for my sorrow.
If the South wind--only knew my thoughts It would blow my dreams till they got to the Western Island."
SONG
By Tsang Chih (sixth century)
I was brought up under the Stone Castle: My window opened on to the castle tower.
In the castle were beautiful young men Who waved to me as they went in and out.
SONG OF THE MEN OF CHIN-LING
(MARCHING BACK INTO THE CAPITAL)
By Hsieh T"iao (fifth century A.D.)
Chiang-nan is a glorious and beautiful land, And Chin-ling an exalted and kingly province!
The green ca.n.a.ls of the city stretch on and on And its high towers stretch up and up.
Flying gables lean over the bridle-road: Drooping willows cover the Royal Aqueduct.
Shrill flutes sing by the coach"s awning, And reiterated drums bang near its painted wheels.
The names of the deserving shall be carved on the Cloud Terrace.[34]
And for those who have done valiantly rich reward awaits.