A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems Part 13

(AN APOLOGY FOR HIS OWN DRUNKENNESS)

White hair covers my temples, I am wrinkled and seared beyond repair, And though I have got five sons, They all hate paper and brush.

A-shu is eighteen: For laziness there is none like him.

A-hsuan does his best, But really loathes the Fine Arts.

Yung-tuan is thirteen.

But does not know "six" from "seven."[33]

T'ung-tzu in his ninth year Is only concerned with things to eat.

If Heaven treats me like this, What can I do but fill my cup?

[33] Written in Chinese with two characters very easy to distinguish.

(7)

I built my hut in a zone of human habitation, Yet near me there sounds no noise of horse or coach.

Would you know how that is possible?

A heart that is distant creates a wilderness round it.

I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge, Then gaze long at the distant summer hills.

The mountain air is fresh at the dusk of day: The flying birds two by two return.

In these things there lies a deep meaning; Yet when we would express it, words suddenly fail us.

(8)

MOVING HOUSE

My old desire to live in the Southern Village Was not because I had taken a fancy to the house.

But I heard it was a place of simple-minded men With whom it were a joy to spend the mornings and evenings.

Many years I had longed to settle here: Now at last I have managed to move house.

I do not mind if my cottage is rather small So long as there's room enough for bed and mat.

Often and often the neighbours come to see me And with brave words discuss the things of old.

Rare writings we read together and praise: Doubtful meanings we examine together and settle.

(9)

RETURNING TO THE FIELDS

When I was young, I was out of tune with the herd: My only love was for the hills and mountains.

Unwitting I fell into the Web of the World's dust And was not free until my thirtieth year.

The migrant bird longs for the old wood: The fish in the tank thinks of its native pool.

I had rescued from wildness a patch of the Southern Moor And, still rustic, I returned to field and garden.

My ground covers no more than ten acres: My thatched cottage has eight or nine rooms.

Elms and willows cl.u.s.ter by the eaves: Peach trees and plum trees grow before the Hall.

Hazy, hazy the distant hamlets of men.

Steady the smoke of the half-deserted village, A dog barks somewhere in the deep lanes, A c.o.c.k crows at the top of the mulberry tree.

At gate and courtyard--no murmur of the World's dust: In the empty rooms--leisure and deep stillness.

Long I lived checked by the bars of a cage: Now I have turned again to Nature and Freedom.

(10)

READING THE BOOK OF HILLS AND SEAS

In the month of June the gra.s.s grows high And round my cottage thick-leaved branches sway.

There is not a bird but delights in the place where it rests: And I too--love my thatched cottage.

I have done my ploughing: I have sown my seed.

Again I have time to sit and read my books.

In the narrow lane there are no deep ruts: Often my friends' carriages turn back.

In high spirits I pour out my spring wine And pluck the lettuce growing in my garden.

A gentle rain comes stealing up from the east And a sweet wind bears it company.

My thoughts float idly over the story of King Chou My eyes wander over the pictures of Hills and Seas.

At a single glance I survey the whole Universe.

He will never be happy, whom such pleasures fail to please!

(11)

FLOOD

The lingering clouds, rolling, rolling, And the settled rain, dripping, dripping, In the Eight Directions--the same dusk.

The level lands--one great river.

Wine I have, wine I have: Idly I drink at the eastern window.

Longingly--I think of my friends, But neither boat nor carriage comes.

(12)

NEW CORN

Swiftly the years, beyond recall.

Solemn the stillness of this fair morning.

I will clothe myself in spring-clothing And visit the slopes of the Eastern Hill.

By the mountain-stream a mist hovers, Hovers a moment, then scatters.

There comes a wind blowing from the south That brushes the fields of new corn.

CHAPTER IV

INVITING GUESTS

By Ch'eng-kung Sui (died A.D. 273)

I sent out invitations To summon guests.

I collected together All my friends.