so bright a gleam on the foot of my bed, it's probably frost.
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, and how quiet she leans, and how troubled her brow is!.
you may see the tears now, bright on her cheek, but not the man she so bitterly loves.
The 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?.
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.
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.
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.
Qiudeng Xuancheng Xieqi North Building
In the picturesque Jiangcheng, the mountains look at the clear sky at night.
two water mirrors, two bridges and a rainbow.
the orange pomelo is sparsely populated, and the old phoenix tree is autumn.
whoever goes to the north building will be grateful to the duke in the breeze.
In the sound of dogs barking, the peach blossom belt is thick.
when the tree is deep, the deer will be seen, but the bell will not be heard at noon.
wild bamboos are green and misty, and flying springs hang blue peaks.
no one knows where to go, and I am worried about it.
Listening to Shu Monk Zhuo Playing the Piano
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, I hear him in the icy bells.
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.
hang the sail in the Ming dynasty, with fallen maple-leaves behind me.