With sore eyes by the
guttering
candle still I sit in the dark,
Listening to waves that, driven by the wind, strike the prow of
the ship.
Listening to waves that, driven by the wind, strike the prow of
the ship.
Waley - 170 Chinese Poems
And have you not heard
That the Prime Minister of T'ien-Pao, Yang Kuo-chung[73]
Desiring to win imperial favour, started a frontier war?
But long before he could win the war, people had lost their temper;
Ask the man with the broken arm in the village of Hsin-f? ng?
[71] A. D. 742-755.
[72] 713-742.
[73] Cousin of the notorious mistress of Ming-huang, Yang Kuei-fei.
KEPT WAITING IN THE BOAT AT CHIU-K'OU TEN DAYS BY AN ADVERSE WIND
White billows and huge waves block the river crossing;
Wherever I go, danger and difficulty; whatever I do, failure.
Just as in my worldly career I wander and lose the road,
So when I come to the river crossing, I am stopped by contrary winds.
Of fishes and prawns sodden in the rain the smell fills my nostrils;
With the stings of insects that come with the fog, my whole body is
sore.
I am growing old, time flies, and my short span runs out.
While I sit in a boat at Chiu-k'ou, wasting ten days!
ON BOARD SHIP: READING YUAN CH? N'S POEMS
I take your poems in my hand and read them beside the candle;
The poems are finished: the candle is low: dawn not yet come.
With sore eyes by the guttering candle still I sit in the dark,
Listening to waves that, driven by the wind, strike the prow of
the ship.
ARRIVING AT HSUN-YANG
(TWO POEMS)
(1)
A bend of the river brings into view two triumphal arches;
That is the gate in the western wall of the suburbs of Hsun-yang.
I have still to travel in my solitary boat three or four leagues--
By misty waters and rainy sands, while the yellow dusk thickens.
(2)
We are almost come to Hsun-yang: how my thoughts are stirred
As we pass to the south of Yu Liang's[74] tower and the east of
P'? n Port.
The forest trees are leafless and withered,--after the mountain
rain;
The roofs of the houses are hidden low among the river mists.
The horses, fed on water grass, are too weak to carry their load;
The cottage walls of wattle and thatch let the wind blow on one's
bed.
In the distance I see red-wheeled coaches driving from the town-gate;
They have taken the trouble, these civil people, to meet their new
Prefect!
[74] Died A. D. 340. Giles, 2526.
MADLY SINGING IN THE MOUNTAINS
There is no one among men that has not a special failing:
And my failing consists in writing verses.
I have broken away from the thousand ties of life:
But this infirmity still remains behind.
Each time that I look at a fine landscape:
Each time that I meet a loved friend,
I raise my voice and recite a stanza of poetry
And am glad as though a God had crossed my path.
Ever since the day I was banished to Hsun-yang
Half my time I have lived among the hills.
