No More Learning

Among the snow it pecked for grass; and rested on the surface of the
ice:
It tried with its wings to scale the sky; but its tired flight was
slow.
The boys of the river spread a net and caught the bird as it flew;
They took it in their hands to the city-market and sold it there
alive.
I that was once a man of the North am now an exile here:
Bird and man, in their different kind, are each strangers in the
south.
And because the sight of an exiled bird wounded an exile's heart,
I paid your ransom and set you free, and you flew away to the clouds.
Yen, Yen, flying to the clouds, tell me, whither shall you go?
Of all things I bid you, do not fly to the land of the north-west
In Huai-hsi there are rebel bands[78] that have not been subdued;
And a thousand thousand armoured men have long been camped in war.
The official army and the rebel army have grown old in their opposite
trenches;
The soldier's rations have grown so small, they'll be glad of even
you.
The brave boys, in their hungry plight, will shoot you and eat your
flesh;
They will pluck from your body those long feathers and make them into
arrow-wings!

[75] Kiukiang, the poet's place of exile.

[76] A. D. 815. His first winter at Kiukiang.

[77] By the weight of snow.

[78] The revolt of Wu Yuan-chi.
TO A PORTRAIT PAINTER WHO DESIRED HIM TO SIT

_You_, so bravely splashing reds and blues!
Just when _I_ am getting wrinkled and old.
Why should you waste the moments of inspiration
Tracing the withered limbs of a sick man?
Tall, tall is the Palace of Ch'i-lin;[79]
But my deeds have not been frescoed on its walls.
Minutely limned on a foot of painting silk--
What can I do with a portrait such as _that_?

[79] One of the "Record Offices" of the T'ang dynasty, where meritorious
deeds were illustrated on the walls.


SEPARATION

Yesterday I heard that such-a-one was gone;
This morning they tell me that so-and-so is dead.
Of friends and acquaintances more than two-thirds
Have suffered change and passed to the Land of Ghosts.
Those that are gone I shall not see again;
They, alas, are for ever finished and done.
Those that are left,--where are they now?
They are all scattered,--a thousand miles away.
Those I have known and loved through all my life,
On the fingers of my hand--how many do I count?
Only the prefects of T'ung, Kuo and Li
And F? ng Province--just those four. [80]
Longing for each other we are all grown gray;
Through the Fleeting World rolled like a wave in the stream.
Alas that the feasts and frolics of old days
Have withered and vanished, bringing us to this!