[32] Confucius was
maltreated
in Ch'?
Waley - 170 Chinese Poems
The Three Emperors were saintly men,
Yet to-day--where are they?
P'? ng[31] lived to a great age,
Yet he went at last, when he longed to stay.
And late or soon, all go:
Wise and simple have no reprieve.
Wine may bring forgetfulness,
But does it not hasten old-age?
If you set your heart on noble deeds,
How do you know that any will praise you?
By all this thinking you do Me injury:
You had better go where Fate leads--
Drift on the Stream of Infinite Flux,
Without joy, without fear:
When you must go--then go,
And make as little fuss as you can.
[31] The Chinese Methuselah.
(5)
Chill and harsh the year draws to its close:
In my cotton dress I seek sunlight on the porch.
In the southern orchard all the leaves are gone:
In the north garden rotting boughs lie heaped.
I empty my cup and drink it down to the dregs:
I look towards the kitchen, but no smoke rises.
Poems and books lie piled beside my chair:
But the light is going and I shall not have time to read them.
My life here is not like the Agony in Ch'? n,[32]
But often I have to bear bitter reproaches.
Let me then remember, to calm my heart's distress,
That the Sages of old were often in like case.
[32] Confucius was maltreated in Ch'? n.
(6)
BLAMING SONS
(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-tz? 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.
