Going home--I shed a few tears,
Grieving about things,--not sorry for you.
Grieving about things,--not sorry for you.
Waley - 170 Chinese Poems
n Chu-shih,
In warm bed-socks dozing beneath the rugs
And not getting up till the sun has mounted the sky.
BEING ON DUTY ALL NIGHT IN THE PALACE AND DREAMING OF THE HSIEN-YU
TEMPLE
At the western window I paused from writing rescripts;
The pines and bamboos were all buried in stillness.
The moon rose and a calm wind came;
Suddenly, it was like an evening in the hills.
And so, as I dozed, I dreamed of the South West
And thought I was staying at the Hsien-yu Temple. [49]
When I woke and heard the dripping of the Palace clock
I still thought it the murmur of a mountain stream.
[49] Where the poet used to spend his holidays.
PASSING T'IEN-M? N STREET IN CH'ANG-AN AND SEEING A DISTANT VIEW OF
CHUNG-NAN[50] MOUNTAIN
The snow has gone from Chung-nan; spring is almost come.
Lovely in the distance its blue colours, against the brown of the
streets.
A thousand coaches, ten thousand horsemen pass down the Nine Roads;
Turns his head and looks at the mountains,--not one man!
[50] Part of the great Nan Shan range, fifteen miles south of Ch'ang-an.
THE LETTER
_Preface_:--After I parted with Yuan Ch? n, I suddenly dreamt one night
that I saw him. When I awoke, I found that a letter from him had just
arrived and, enclosed in it, a poem on the _paulovnia_ flower.
We talked together in the Yung-shou Temple;
We parted to the north of the Hsin-ch'ang dyke.
Going home--I shed a few tears,
Grieving about things,--not sorry for you.
Long, long the road to Lan-t'ien;
You said yourself you would not be able to write.
Reckoning up your halts for eating and sleeping--
By this time you've crossed the Shang mountains.
Last night the clouds scattered away;
A thousand leagues, the same moonlight scene.
When dawn came, I dreamt I saw your face;
It must have been that you were thinking of me.
In my dream, I thought I held your hand
And asked you to tell me what your thoughts were.
And _you_ said: "I miss you bitterly,
But there's no one here to send to you with a letter. "
When I awoke, before I had time to speak,
A knocking on the door sounded "Doong, doong! "
They came and told me a messenger from Shang-chou
Had brought a letter,--a single scroll from you!
Up from my pillow I suddenly sprang out of bed,
And threw you my clothes, all topsy-turvy.
I undid the knot and saw the letter within;
A single sheet with thirteen lines of writing.
At the top it told the sorrows of an exile's heart;
At the bottom it described the pains of separation.
The sorrows and pains took up so much space
There was no room left to talk about the weather!
But you said that when you wrote
You were staying for the night to the east of Shang-chou;
Sitting alone, lighted by a solitary candle
Lodging in the mountain hostel of Yang-Ch'? ng.
Night was late when you finished writing,
The mountain moon was slanting towards the west.
In warm bed-socks dozing beneath the rugs
And not getting up till the sun has mounted the sky.
BEING ON DUTY ALL NIGHT IN THE PALACE AND DREAMING OF THE HSIEN-YU
TEMPLE
At the western window I paused from writing rescripts;
The pines and bamboos were all buried in stillness.
The moon rose and a calm wind came;
Suddenly, it was like an evening in the hills.
And so, as I dozed, I dreamed of the South West
And thought I was staying at the Hsien-yu Temple. [49]
When I woke and heard the dripping of the Palace clock
I still thought it the murmur of a mountain stream.
[49] Where the poet used to spend his holidays.
PASSING T'IEN-M? N STREET IN CH'ANG-AN AND SEEING A DISTANT VIEW OF
CHUNG-NAN[50] MOUNTAIN
The snow has gone from Chung-nan; spring is almost come.
Lovely in the distance its blue colours, against the brown of the
streets.
A thousand coaches, ten thousand horsemen pass down the Nine Roads;
Turns his head and looks at the mountains,--not one man!
[50] Part of the great Nan Shan range, fifteen miles south of Ch'ang-an.
THE LETTER
_Preface_:--After I parted with Yuan Ch? n, I suddenly dreamt one night
that I saw him. When I awoke, I found that a letter from him had just
arrived and, enclosed in it, a poem on the _paulovnia_ flower.
We talked together in the Yung-shou Temple;
We parted to the north of the Hsin-ch'ang dyke.
Going home--I shed a few tears,
Grieving about things,--not sorry for you.
Long, long the road to Lan-t'ien;
You said yourself you would not be able to write.
Reckoning up your halts for eating and sleeping--
By this time you've crossed the Shang mountains.
Last night the clouds scattered away;
A thousand leagues, the same moonlight scene.
When dawn came, I dreamt I saw your face;
It must have been that you were thinking of me.
In my dream, I thought I held your hand
And asked you to tell me what your thoughts were.
And _you_ said: "I miss you bitterly,
But there's no one here to send to you with a letter. "
When I awoke, before I had time to speak,
A knocking on the door sounded "Doong, doong! "
They came and told me a messenger from Shang-chou
Had brought a letter,--a single scroll from you!
Up from my pillow I suddenly sprang out of bed,
And threw you my clothes, all topsy-turvy.
I undid the knot and saw the letter within;
A single sheet with thirteen lines of writing.
At the top it told the sorrows of an exile's heart;
At the bottom it described the pains of separation.
The sorrows and pains took up so much space
There was no room left to talk about the weather!
But you said that when you wrote
You were staying for the night to the east of Shang-chou;
Sitting alone, lighted by a solitary candle
Lodging in the mountain hostel of Yang-Ch'? ng.
Night was late when you finished writing,
The mountain moon was slanting towards the west.
