No More Learning

(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.
Grass and trees wither: geese go south.
Orchids all in bloom: chrysanthemums smell sweet.
I think of my lovely lady: I never can forget.
Floating-pagoda boat crosses F? n 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-J? N

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-j? n, 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.