the bright moon lifts from the Mountain of Heaven, in an infinite haze of cloud and sea.
and the wind, that has come a thousand miles, beats at the Jade Pass battlements.
china marches its men down Baideng Road, while Tartar troops peer across blue waters of the bay.
and since not one battle famous in history sent all its fighters back again.
the soldiers turn round, looking toward the border, and think of home, with wistful eyes.
and of those tonight in the upper chambers, who toss and sigh and cannot rest.
Antique (Part I)
If I don't make it elegant for a long time, who will be old when I fail?
Wang fengwei is a creeping weed, and there are many hazelnuts in the warring States period.
dragons and tigers eat each other, and soldiers fight to catch crazy Qin.
why is the sound so faint, and the poet is sorrowful.
Yang Ma stirs up the waves, which are endless.
although the abolition of prosperity has changed, the charter has also fallen.
since Jian' an came, beauty is not precious.
the sundae restores the ancient times, and the hanging clothes are expensive and halal.
the group belongs to Xiuming, and it jumps on the scales by * * *.
Wen Xiang Bing Huan, the stars Luo Qiumin.
I aim to delete the narrative, reflecting thousands of spring.
if you wish to be a saint, you will get it.
Antique (Part 15)
Yan Zhaoyan and Guo Kui built Huang Jintai.
Zhao Zhi, the new playwright, and Zou Yan come back together.
Why do you abandon me like dust?
Zhu Yu buys songs and laughs, and wastes to raise talents.
only then can you know that an oriole moves alone for thousands of miles.
Four o'clock midnight song: Qiu Ge
a slip of the moon hangs over the capital, ten thousand washing-mallets are pounding.
and the autumn wind is blowing my heart, for ever and ever toward the Jade Pass.
oh, when will the Tartar troops be conquered, and my husband come back from the long campaign!?
Four o'clock midnight songs: Winter songs
the courier will depart next day, she's told, she sews a warrior's gown all night.
her fingers feel the needle cold, how can she hold the scissors tight?.
the work is done, she sends it far away, when will it reach the town where warriors stay??
Long-term business trip
My concubine's hair is newly restored, I was picking flowers, paying by my door.
when you, my lover, on a bamboo horse, came trotting in circles and throwing green plums.
we lived near together on a lane in Ch'ang-kan, both of us young and happy-hearted.
at fourteen I became your wife, so bashful that I dared not smile.
and I lowered my head toward a dark corner, and would not turn to your thousand calls.
but at fifteen I straightened my brows and laughed, learning that no dust could ever seal our love.
that even unto death I would await you by my post, and would never lose heart in the tower of silent watching!
then when I was sixteen, you left on a long journey, through the Gorges of Ch'u-t'ang, of rock and whirling water.
and then came the Fifth-month, more than I could bear, and I tried to hear the monkeys in your lofty far-off sky.
your footprints by our door, where I had watched you go, were hidden, every one of them, under green moss.
hidden under moss too deep to sweep away, and the first autumn wind added fallen leaves.
August butterfly yellow, hover, two by two, in our west-garden grasses.
and, because of all this, my heart is breaking, and I fear for my bright cheeks, lest they fade.
oh, at last, when you return through the three Pa districts, send me a message home ahead!.
and I will come and meet you and will never mind the distance, all the way to Chang-feng Sha.
spring thoughts
your grasses up north are as blue as jade, our mulberries here curve green-threaded branches.
and at last you think of returning home, now when my heart is almost broken.
breeze of the spring, since I dare not know you, why part the silk curtains by my bed??
a Song of Lu Mountain to Censor Lu Xuzhou
I am the madman of the Chu country, who sang a mad song disputing Confucius.
holding in my hand a staff of green jade, I have crossed, since morning at the Yellow Crane Terrace.
all five Holy Mountains, without a thought of distance, according to the one constant habit of my life.
Lushan Mountain is near Nandou, in clouds reaching silken like a nine-panelled screen and with its shadows in a crystal lake deepening the green water.
the Golden Gate opens into two mountain-ranges, a silver stream is hanging down to three stone bridges.
within sight of the mighty Tripod Falls, ledges of cliff and winding trails lead to blue sky.
and a flush of cloud in the morning sun, whence no flight of birds could be blown into Wu.
I climb to the top. I survey the whole world, the river is boundless, and you can't return it.
yellow clouds that winds have driven hundreds of miles, and a snow-peak whitely circled by the swirl of a ninefold stream.
and so I am singing a song of Lu Mountain, a song that is born of the breath of Lu Mountain.
where the Stone Mirror makes the heart's purity purer, and green moss has buried the footsteps of Xie.
I have eaten the immortal pellet and, rid of the world's troubles, before the lute's third playing have achieved my element.
far away I watch the angels riding coloured clouds, toward heaven's Jade City, with hibiscus in their hands.
and so, when I have traversed the nine sections of the world, I will follow Saint Luao up the Great Purity.
tianmu Mountain Ascended in a Dream
a seafaring visitor will talk about Japan, which waters and mists conceal beyond approach.
but Yueh people talk about Heavenly Mother Mountain, still seen through its varying deeps of cloud.
in a straight line to heaven, its summit enters heaven, tops the five Holy Peaks, and casts a shadow through China.
with the hundred-mile length of the Heavenly Terrace Range, which, just at this point, begins turning southeast.
my heart and my dreams are in Wu and Yueh, and they cross Mirror Lake all night in the moon.
and the moon lights my shadow, and me to Yan River.
with the hermitage of Xie still there, and the monkeys calling clearly over ripples of green water.
I wear pegged boots which were first used by Xie, up a ladder of blue cloud.
sunny ocean half-way, holy cock-crow in space.
a thousand rocks turn a road, flowers lure me, rocks ease me. Day suddenly ends.
bears, dragons, tempestuous on mountain and river, startle the forest and make the heights tremble.
clouds darken with darkness of rain, streams pale with pallor of mist.
in the Gods of Thunder and Lightning, hills and mountains are crumbling.
cave stone gate, venting in the pit of heaven.
an impenetrable shadow, but now the sun and moon illumine a gold and silver terrace.
and, clad in rainbow garments, riding on the wind, come the queens of all the clouds, descending one by one.
with tigers for their lute-players and phoenixes for dancers, row upon row, like fields of hemp, range the fairy figures.
I move, my soul goes flying, I wake with a long sigh.
my pillow and my matting, are the lost clouds I was in.
and this is the way it always is with human joy, ten thousand things run for ever like water toward the east.
and so I take my leave of you, not knowing for how long, but let me, on my green slope, raise a white deer and and ride to you, great mountain, when I have need of you.
oh, how can I gravely bow and scrape to men of high rank and men of high office, who never will suffer being shown an honest-hearted face!
parting at a Wine-Shop in Nanjing
a wind, bringing willow-cotton, sweetens the shop, Wu Ji pressed wine to persuade customers to taste.
with my comrades of the city who are here to see me off, and as each of them drains his cup, I say to him in parting.
oh, go and ask this river running to the east, if it can travel farther than a friend's love!?
Uncle Yun of Xuanzhou Xielou farewell school
Those who abandoned me can't stay yesterday,
Those who disturb my heart are more worried today.
the autumn wildgeese have a long wind for escort, as I face them from this villa, drinking my wine.
the bones of great writers are your brushes, in the School of Heaven, and I am a Lesser Xie growing up by your side.
we both are exalted to distant thought wants to go to the sky to capture the bright moon.
but since water still flows, though we cut it with our swords, and sorrows return, though we drown them with wine.
since the world can in no way answer our craving, I will loosen my hair tomorrow and take to a fishingboat.
Sauvignon Blanc
Sauvignon Blanc is in Chang 'an.
insects hum of autumn by the gold brim of the well, a thin frost glistens like little mirrors on my cold mat.
the high lantern flickers; and deeper grows my longing, I lift the shade and, with many a sigh, gaze upon the moon.
single as a flower, centred from the clouds.
There is a high sky in the sky, below, I see the greenness and the restlessness of water.
heaven is high, earth wide; bitter between them flies my sorrow, can I dream through the gateway, over the mountain?.
sauvignon blanc destroys the heart and soul.
Emei Mountain Moon Song
Emei Mountain is in the autumn of the first half of the month, and it is reflected in the Pingqiang River.
At night, Qingxi flows to the Three Gorges, but I miss you and I don't see Yuzhou.
one of it is hard to go's three songs
pure wine costs, for the golden cup, ten thousand coppers a flagon, and a jade plate of dainty food calls for a million coins.
I fling aside my food-sticks and cup, I cannot eat nor drink, I pull out my dagger, I peer four ways in vain.
I would cross the Yellow River, but ice chokes the ferry, the Taihang Mountain will be covered with snow.
I would sit and poise a fishing-pole, lazy by a brook, but I suddenly dream of riding a boat, sailing for the sun.
it is hard to go, it is hard to go, many roads, where is Ann now?
I will mount a long wind some day and break the heavy waves, and set my cloudy sail straight and bridge the deep, deep sea.
two of it is hard to go's three songs
the way is broad like the blue sky, but no way out before my eye.
In I am ashamed to follow those who have no guts, red chickens and pheasants bet on pears and chestnuts.
feng would go homeward way, having no fish to eat, zhou did not think to bow to noblemen was meet.
general Han was mocked in the market-place, the brilliant scholar Jia was banished in disgrace.
have you seen king of Yan in days gone by who venerated talents and built Terrace high and on which he offered gold to gifted men. And stooped low and swept the floor to welcome them??
grateful, Ju Xin and Yue Yi came then, and served him heart and soul, both full of stratagem.
the King's bones were now buried, who would sweep the floor of the Gold Terrace any more??
it is hard to go, come back!
six songs under the plug (part one)
In May, there was snow in Tianshan Mountain, and there was no flowers but only cold.
I smell the willow in the flute, but I haven't seen the spring scenery.
follow the golden drum at dawn and hug the jade saddle at night.
I'm willing to cut Loulan with my sword at my waist.
wine coming
I haven't seen how the Yellow River's waters move out of heaven and entering the ocean, never to return.
have you seen how lovely locks in bright mirrors in high chambers and though silken-black at morning, have changed by night to snow?
oh, let a man of spirit venture where he pleases, and never tip his golden cup empty toward the moon!.
since heaven gave the talent, let it be employed!, spin a thousand pieces of silver, all of them come back!.
cook a sheep, kill a cow, whet the appetite, and make me, of three hundred bowls, one long drink!.
master cen, Dan qiusheng, will drink, and don't stop drinking.
let me sing you a song!, please listen to me.
what are bell and drum, rare dishes and treasure?, I wish I'd stay drunk forever.
sober men of olden days and sages are forgotten, and only the great drinkers are famous for all time.
prince Chen paid at a banquet in the Palace of Perfection, ten thousand coins for a cask of wine, with many a laugh and quip.
why say, my host, that your money is gone?, go and buy wine and we'll drink it together!.
five-flowered horse, thousand-golden-golden-qiu, and hand them to the boy to exchange for good wine, share the same sorrow with you.
a message to meng haoran
master, I hail you from my heart, and your fame arisen to the skies.
renouncing in ruddy youth the importance of hat and chariot, you chose pine-trees and clouds; and now, whitehaired.
drunk with the moon, a sage of dreams, flower- bewitched, you are deaf to the Emperor.
high mountain, how I long to reach you, that's all.
bidding a friend farewell at jingmen ferry
sailing far off from Jingmen Ferry, soon you will be with people in the south.
where the mountains end and the plains begin, and the river winds through wilderness.
the moon is lifted like a mirror, sea-clouds gleam like palaces.
and the water has brought you a touch of home, to draw your boat three hundred miles.
seeing friends off
with a blue line of mountains north of the wall, and east of the city a white curve of water.
here you must leave me and drift away, like a loosened water-plant hundreds of miles.
I shall think of you in a floating cloud, so in the sunset think of me.
we wave our hands to say good-bye, and my horse is neighing again and again.
on hearing jun the buddhist monk from shu play his lute
the monk from Shu with his green silk lute-case, walking west down Emei Mountain.
has brought me by one touch of the strings, the breath of pines in a thousand valleys.
I hear him in the cleansing brook, the bells are ringing into the frost.
and I feel no change though the mountain darken, and cloudy autumn heaps the sky.
thoughts of old time from a night-mooring under mount niu-zhu
this night to the west of the river-brim, there is not one cloud in the whole blue sky.
as I watch from my deck the autumn moon, vainly remembering old General Xie.
I have poems; I can read, he heard others, but not mine!
tomorrow I shall hoist my sail, with fallen maple-leaves behind me.
quiet night thinking
so bright a gleam on the foot of my bed, could there have been a frost already?.
lifting myself to look, I found that it was moonlight, sinking back again, I thought suddenly of home.
Resentment
how beautiful she looks, opening the pearly casement, sitting in a frown.
you may see the tears now, bright on her cheek, but not the man she so bitterly loves?
Jade Clan
her jade-white staircase is cold with dew, her silk soles are wet, she lingered there so long.
behind her closed casement, why is she still waiting, watching through its crystal pane the glow of the autumn moon?.
Yellow Crane Tower a farewell to meng haoran on his way to yangzhou
An old friend left the Yellow Crane Tower in the west, and fireworks went down to Yangzhou in March.
The solitary sail shows the blue sky in the distance, and only the Yangtze River flows in the sky.
Xiajiangling
Farewell to the White Emperor's colorful clouds, and return to Jiangling in a day.
The apes on both sides of the strait can't stop crying, and the canoe has crossed Chung Shan Man.
one of the three qingping tunes
the clouds want clothes, flowers, and capacity, and the spring breeze blows the threshold to reveal the richness.
if we don't meet in the head of the Jade Mountain, we will meet in the moonlight at Yaotai.
the second of three qingpingdiao songs
a branch is red and fragrant, and it is heartbreaking in vain.
May I ask who looks like in the Han Palace? Poor swallow leans on her new makeup.
The third of the three Qingping Tunes
Famous flowers pour into the country and enjoy each other, which often makes the king laugh.
Explain that the spring breeze is full of hate, and Shen Xiangting is languid in the north.
down Zhongnan Mountain to the Kind Pillow and Bowl of Husi
down the blue mountain in the evening, moonlight was my homeward escort.
looking back, I saw my path, lie in levels of deep shadow.
I was passing the farm-house of a friend, when his children called from a gate of thorn.
and led me twining through jade bamboos, where green vines caught and held my clothes.
and I was glad of a chance to rest, talk about wine.
we sang to the tune of the wind in the pines;, and we finished our songs as the stars went down.
when, I being drunk and my friend more than happy, Tao Ran * * * forgot his plane.
drinking Alone with the Moon
from a pot of wine among the flowers, I drank alone. There was no one with me.
till, raising my cup, I asked the bright moon, to bring me my shadow and make us three.
alas, the moon was unable to drink, and my shadow tagged me vacantly;.
but still for a while I had these friends, to cheer me through the end of spring.
I sang. The moon encouraged me, I danced. My shadow tumbled after.
have sex when you wake up, and then I was drunk, and we lost one another.
shall goodwill ever be secure?, I watch the long road of the River of Stars.
Introduction
Du Fu (712-77), a native of Gongxian County, Henan Province, was born in a landlord family who was "loyal to Confucianism and guarded officials". Du Fu is a poet with a vast creative world. There are more than 1,4 existing poems. He is good at expressing important themes and describing small things, and his subjects are various. No matter five words, seven words, ancient style and modern style, they are all outstanding, and they can integrate the advantages of previous art and form their own unique style. Du Fu's contribution to the history of Chinese poetry development is enormous, and his influence on later generations is far-reaching.
on meeting li guinian down the river
It's common to see it in Qiwang's house, but I heard it several times before Cui Jiutang.
It's the beautiful scenery in the south of the Yangtze River, and it's the time when flowers fall.
eight arrays
the Three Kingdoms, divided, have been bound by his greatness, the Eight-Sided Fortress is founded on his fame.
beside the changing river, it stands stony as his grief, that he never conquered the Kingdom of Wu.
Shu Xiang
where is the temple of the famous Premier, in a deep pine grove near the City of Silk.
with the green grass of spring colouring the steps, and birds chirping happily under the leaves.
the third summons weighted him with affairs of state, and to two generations he gave his true heart.
but before he could conquer, he was dead, and heroes have wept on their coats ever since.
to
north of me, south of me, spring is in flood, day after day I have seen only gulls.
my path is full of petals -- I have swept it for no others, my thatch gate has been closed -- but opens now for you.
it's a long way to the market, I can offer you little, yet here in my cottage there is old wine for our cups.
shall we summon my elderly neighbour to join us, call out the remaining cups through the fence.
Yewang
snow is white on the westward mountains and on three fortified towns, and waters in this southern lake flash on a long bridge.
but wind and dust from sea to sea bar me from my brothers, and I cannot help crying, I am so far away.
Only those who are late will be ill, I am of less use to my country than a grain of dust.
I ride out to the edge of town. I watch on the horizon, day after day, the chaos of the world!
giving flowers to Qing
There are many silk tubes in Jincheng, and they are half in the river and half in the clouds.
this song should only exist in the sky, and how many times can people hear it?
I heard that the loyalist troops recaptured Henan and Hebei
news at this far western station! The north has been recaptured! and at first I cannot check the tears from pouring on my coat.
where is my wife and my son? Little sorrow on their face., yet crazily I pack my books and poems.
You have to indulge in wine when singing songs in Bai Shou, on the green spring-day that starts me home.
back from this mountain, past another mountain, up from the south, north again-to my own town!.
climb
in a sharp gale from the wide sky apes are whimpering, birds are flying homeward over the clear lake and white sand.
leaves are dropping down like the spray of a waterfall, while I watch the long river always rolling on.
I have come three thousand miles away. Sad now with autumn, and with my hundred years of woe, I climb this height alone.
ill fortune has laid a bitter frost on my temples, heart-ache and weariness are a thick dust in my wine.
going upstairs
flowers, as high as my window, hurt the heart of a wanderer, for I see, from this high vantage, sadness everywhere.
the Silken River, bright with spring, floats between earth and heaven, like a line of cloud by the Jade Peak, between ancient days and now.
though the State is established for a while as firm as the North Star, and bandits dare not venture from the western hills.
yet sorry in the twilight for the woes of a long vanished Emperor, talk to Liang Fu at sunset.
Sufu
the autumn night is clear and cold in the lakka-trees of this courtyard, I am lying forlorn in the river-town. I watch my guttering candle.
I hear the lonely notes of a bugle sounding through the dark, the moon is in mid-heaven, but there's no one to share it with me!
my messengers are scattered by whirls of rain and sand, it is hard to go.
yet, I who have borne ten years of pitiable existence, find here a perch, a little branch, and am safe for this one night.
cabinet night
while winter daylight shortens in the elemental scale, and snow and frost whiten the cold-circling night.
stark sounds the fifth-watch with a challenge of drum and bugle, the stars and the River of Heaven pulse over the three mountains.
how many people cry in the wild? I see barbarian fishermen and woodcutters in the dawn.
sleeping-Dragon, Plunging-Horse, are no generals nowthey are dust, hush for a moment, O tumult of the world..
the second of five poems about historic sites
"Decay and decline": deep knowledge have I of Sung Yu's grief, romantic and refined, he too is my teacher.
sadly looking across a thousand autumns, one shower of tears, melancholy in different epochs, not at the same time.
among rivers and mountains his old abode -- empty his writings, deserted terrace of cloud and rain -- surely not just imagined in a dream?.
utterly the palaces of Chu are all destroyed and ruined, the fishermen pointing them out today are unsure.
the third of five poems about historic sites
ten thousand ranges and valleys approach the Jing Gate, and the village in which the Lady of Light was born and bred.
she went out from the purple palace into the desertland, she has now become a green grave in the yellow dusk.
her face! Can you picture a wind of the spring?, the soul of the moonlit night returns to the sky.
song of the Tartars on her jade guitar, telling her eternal sorrow!
Five Poems of Chanting for Monuments
zhuge's prestige transcends the earth, there is only reverence for his face.
yet his will, among the Three Kingdoms at war, was only as one feather against a flaming sky.
he was brother of men like Yi and Lu, and in time would have surpassed the greatest of all statesmen.
though he knew there was no hope for the House of Han, yet he wielded his mind for it, yielded his life.
spring
though a country be sundered, hills and rivers endure, and spring comes green again to trees and grasses.
where petals have been shed like tears, and lonely birds have sung their grief.
after the war-fires of three months, one message from home is worth a ton of gold.
I stroke my white hair. It has grown too thin, to hold the hairpins any more.
poor bank of communications
it's a cloud over the rain, so why count them?
don't you see that Guan Bao made friends when he was poor, and this way is now abandoned.
a night-vigil in the left court of the palace
flowers are shadowed, the palace darkens, birds twitter by for a place to perch.
heaven's ten thousand windows are twinkling, and nine cloud-terraces are gleaming in the moonlight.
while I wait for the golden lock to turn, I hear jade pendants tinkling in the wind.
I have a petition to present in the morning, all night I ask what time it is?
In the second year of Zhi De, he just left Jinguangmen in Beijing and returned to Fengxiang. At the beginning of Yuan Dynasty, he picked up things from the left and moved to Huazhou. Parting with relatives and friends has sad memories
this is the road by which I fled, when the rebels had reached the west end of the city.
It's still bold, lest some of my soul should never return.
The near servant returned to Jingyi, but the Emperor sends me away again.
useless and old, I rein in my horse, for one last look at the thousand gates.
remembering my brothers on a moonlight night
In a wanderer hears drums portending battle, geese are singing in autumn.
he knows that the dews tonight will be frost, how much brighter the moonlight is at home!.
o my brothers, lost and scattered, what is life to me without you?.
yet if missives in time of peace go wrong, what can I hope for during war?.
to li bai at the sky end
a cold wind blows from the far sky, what are you thinking of, old friend??
the wild geese never answer me, rivers and lakes are flooded with rain.
a poet should beware of prosperity, yet demons can haunt a wanderer.
in response to * * *' s murder, throw a poem as a gift.