A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems Part 7

The dead are gone and with them we cannot converse.

The living are here and ought to have our love.

Leaving the city-gate I look ahead And see before me only mounds and tombs.

The old graves are ploughed up into fields, The pines and cypresses are hewn for timber.

In the white aspens sad winds sing; Their long murmuring kills my heart with grief.

I want to go home, to ride to my village gate.

I want to go back, but there's no road back.

(14)

The years of a lifetime do not reach a hundred.

Yet they contain a thousand years' sorrow.

When days are short and the dull nights long, Why not take a lamp and wander forth?

If you want to be happy you must do it now, There is no waiting till an after-time.

The fool who's loath to spend the wealth he's got Becomes the laughing-stock of after ages.

It is true that Master w.a.n.g became immortal, But how can _we_ hope to share his lot?

(15)

Cold, cold the year draws to its end, The crickets and gra.s.shoppers make a doleful chirping.

The chill wind increases its violence.

My wandering love has no coat to cover him.

He gave his embroidered furs to the Lady of Lo, But from me his bedfellow he is quite estranged.

Sleeping alone in the depth of the long night In a dream I thought I saw the light of his face.

My dear one thought of our old joys together, He came in his chariot and gave me the front reins.

I wanted so to prolong our play and laughter, To hold his hand and go back with him in his coach.

But, when he had come he would not stay long Nor stop to go with me to the Inner Chamber.

Truly without the falcon's wings to carry me How can I rival the flying wind's swiftness?

I go and lean at the gate and think of my grief, My falling tears wet the double gates.

(16)

At the beginning of winter a cold spirit comes, The North Wind blows--chill, chill.

My sorrows being many, I know the length of the nights, Raising my head I look at the stars in their places.

On the fifteenth day the bright moon is full, On the twentieth day the "toad and hare" wane.[17]

A stranger came to me from a distant land And brought me a single scroll with writing on it; At the top of the scroll was written "Do not forget,"

At the bottom was written "Goodbye for Ever."

I put the letter away in the folds of my dress, For three years the writing did not fade.

How with an undivided heart I loved you I fear that you will never know or guess.

[17] The "toad and hare" correspond to our "man in the moon." The waning of the moon symbolizes the waning of the lover's affection.

(17)

The bright moon, oh, how white it shines, Shines down on the gauze curtains of my bed.

Racked by sorrow I toss and cannot sleep.

Picking up my clothes, I wander up and down.

My absent love says that he is happy, But I would rather he said he was coming back.

Out in the courtyard I stand hesitating, alone.

To whom can I tell the sad thoughts I think?

Staring before me I enter my room again; Falling tears wet my mantle and robe.

THE AUTUMN WIND

By Wu-ti (157-87 B.C.), sixth emperor of the Han dynasty. He came to the throne when he was only sixteen. In this poem he regrets that he is obliged to go on an official journey, leaving his mistress behind in the capital. He is seated in his state barge surrounded by his ministers.

Autumn wind rises: white clouds fly.

Gra.s.s and trees wither: geese go south.

Orchids all in bloom: chrysanthemums smell sweet.

I think of my lovely lady: I never can forget.

Floating-paG.o.da boat crosses Fen River.

Across the mid-stream white waves rise Flute and drum keep time to sound of the rowers' song; Amidst revel and feasting, sad thoughts come; Youth's years how few! Age how sure!

LI FU-JEN

The sound of her silk skirt has stopped.

On the marble pavement dust grows.

Her empty room is cold and still.

Fallen leaves are piled against the doors.

Longing for that lovely lady How can I bring my aching heart to rest?

The above poem was written by Wu-ti when his mistress, Li Fu-jen, died.

Unable to bear his grief, he sent for wizards from all parts of China, hoping that they would be able to put him into communication with her spirit. At last one of them managed to project her shape on to a curtain. The emperor cried:

Is it or isn't it?

I stand and look.

The swish, swish of a silk skirt.

How slow she comes!

SONG OF SNOW-WHITE HEADS

Ssu-ma Hsiang-ju was a young poet who had lost his position at court owing to ill-health. One day Cho Wen-chun, a rich man's daughter, heard him singing at a feast given by her father. She eloped with him that night, and they set up a wine-shop together. After a time Hsiang-ju became famous as a poet, but his character was marred by love of money.

He sold love-poems, which the ladies of the palace sent to the emperor in order to win his favour. Finally, he gave presents to the "ladies of Mo-ling," hoping to secure a concubine. It was this step that induced his mistress, Cho Wen-chun, to write the following poem.

Our love was pure As the snow on the mountains: White as a moon Between the clouds-- They're telling me Your thoughts are double That's why I've come To break it off.

To-day we'll drink A cup of wine.

To-morrow we'll part Beside the Ca.n.a.l: Walking about Beside the Ca.n.a.l, Where its branches divide East and west.

Alas and alas, And again alas.

So must a girl Cry when she's married, If she find not a man Of single heart, Who will not leave her Till her hair is white.

TO HIS WIFE

By General Su Wu (_circa_ 100 B.C.)

Since our hair was plaited and we became man and wife The love between us was never broken by doubt.

So let us be merry this night together, Feasting and playing while the good time lasts.