More Translations from the Chinese. Anonymous

these delights!

      Peacocks shall fill your gardens; you shall rear

       The roc and phœnix, and red jungle-fowl,

       Whose cry at dawn assembles river storks

       To join the play of cranes and ibises;

       Where the wild-swan all day

       Pursues the glint of idle king-fishers.

       O Soul come back to watch the birds in flight!

      He who has found such manifold delights

       Shall feel his cheeks aglow

       And the blood-spirit dancing through his limbs.

       Stay with me, Soul, and share

       The span of days that happiness will bring;

       See sons and grandsons serving at the Court

       Ennobled and enriched.

       O Soul come back and bring prosperity

       To house and stock!

      The roads that lead to Ch‘u

       Shall teem with travellers as thick as clouds,

       A thousand miles away.

       For the Five Orders of Nobility

       Shall summon sages to assist the King

       And with godlike discrimination choose

       The wise in council; by their aid to probe

       The hidden discontents of humble men

       And help the lonely poor.

       O Soul come back and end what we began!

      Fields, villages and lanes

       Shall throng with happy men;

       Good rule protect the people and make known

       The King’s benevolence to all the land;

       Stern discipline prepare

       Their natures for the soft caress of Art.

       O Soul come back to where the good are praised!

      Like the sun shining over the four seas

       Shall be the reputation of our King;

       His deeds, matched only in Heaven, shall repair

       The wrongs endured by every tribe of men—

       Northward to Yu and southward to Annam

       To the Sheep’s Gut Mountain and the Eastern Seas.

       O Soul come back to where the wise are sought!

      Behold the glorious virtues of our King

       Triumphant, terrible;

       Behold with solemn faces in the Hall

       The Three Grand Ministers walk up and down—

       None chosen for the post save landed-lords

       Or, in default, Knights of the Nine Degrees.

       At the first ray of dawn already is hung

       The shooting-target, where with bow in hand

       And arrows under arm,

       Each archer does obeisance to each,

       Willing to yield his rights of precedence.

       O Soul come back to where men honour still

The name of the Three Kings.[2]

[1] The harp.

[2] Yü, T‘ang and Wēn, the three just rulers of antiquity.

WANG WEI

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      [a.d. 699–759]

      [2] PROSE LETTER

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      To the Bachelor-of-Arts P‘ei Ti

      Of late during the sacrificial month, the weather has been calm and clear, and I might easily have crossed the mountain. But I knew that you were conning the classics and did not dare disturb you. So I roamed about the mountain-side, rested at the Kan-p‘ei Temple, dined with the mountain priests, and, after dinner, came home again. Going northwards, I crossed the Yüan-pa, over whose waters the unclouded moon shone with dazzling rim. When night was far advanced, I mounted Hua-tzü’s Hill and saw the moonlight tossed up and thrown down by the jostling waves of Wang River. On the wintry mountain distant lights twinkled and vanished; in some deep lane beyond the forest a dog barked at the cold, with a cry as fierce as a wolf’s. The sound of villagers grinding their corn at night filled the gaps between the slow chiming of a distant bell.

      Now I am sitting alone. I listen, but cannot hear my grooms and servants move or speak. I think much of old days: how hand in hand, composing poems as we went, we walked down twisting paths to the banks of clear streams.

      We must wait for Spring to come: till the grasses sprout and the trees bloom. Then wandering together in the spring hills we shall see the trout leap lightly from the stream, the white gulls stretch their wings, the dew fall on the green moss. And in the morning we shall hear the cry of curlews in the barley-fields.

      It is not long to wait. Shall you be with me then? Did I not know the natural subtlety of your intelligence, I would not dare address to you so remote an invitation. You will understand that a deep feeling dictates this course.

      Written without disrespect by Wang Wei, a dweller in the mountains.

LI PO

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      [a.d. 701–762]

      [3–5] DRINKING ALONE BY MOONLIGHT

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[Three Poems]