LI, Bai (LI Po/LI T’ai Po)

The Jewel Stairs’ Grievance

The jewelled steps are already quite white with dew,

It is so late that the dew soaks my gauze stockings,

And I let down the crystal curtain

And watch the moon through the clear autumn.

Translated by Ezra Pound

The Solitude of Night

It was at a wine party—

I lay in a drowse, knowing it not.

The blown flowers fell and filled my lap.

When I arose, still drunken,

The birds had all gone to their nests,

And there remained but few of my comrades.

I went along the river—alone in the moonlight.


Three with the moon and his shadow

With a jar of wine I sit by the flowering trees.

I drink alone, and where are my friends?

Ah, the moon above looks down on me;

I call and lift my cup to his brightness.

And see, there goes my shadow before me.

Hoo! We're a party of three, I say,—

Though the poor moon can't drink,

And my shadow but dances around me,

We're all friends to-night,

The drinker, the moon and the shadow.

Let our revelry be meet for the spring time!

I sing, the wild moon wanders the sky.

I dance, my shadow goes tumbling about.

While we're awake, let us join in carousal;

Only sweet drunkenness shall ever part us.

Let us pledge a friendship no mortals know,

And often hail each other at evening

Far across the vast and vaporous space!


Taking Leave of a Friend

Blue mountains lie beyond the north wall;

Round the city’s eastern side flows the white water.

Here we part, friend, once forever.

You go ten thousand miles, drifting away

Like an unrooted water-grass.

Oh, the floating clouds and the thoughts of a wanderer!

Oh, the sunset and the longing of an old friend!

We ride away from each other, waving our hands,

While our horses neigh softly, softly . . . .

Sitting Alone on Jingting Shan Hill

A flock of birds is flying high in the distance,

A lonely cloud drifts idly on its own.

We gaze at each other, neither growing tired,

There is only Jingting Shan.


Question and Answer on the Mountain

You ask for what reason I stay on the green mountain,

I smile, but do not answer, my heart is at leisure.

Peach blossom is carried far off by flowing water,

Apart, I have heaven and earth in the human world.

Ancient Air

I climb up high and look on the four seas,

Heaven and earth spreading out so far.

Frost blankets all the stuff of autumn,

The wind blows with the great desert's cold.

The eastward-flowing water is immense,

All the ten thousand things billow.

The white sun's passing brightness fades,

Floating clouds seem to have no end.

Swallows and sparrows nest in the wutong tree,

Yuan and luan birds perch among jujube thorns.

Now it's time to head on back again,

I flick my sword and sing Taking the Hard Road.


Quiet Night Thought

At the foot of my bed, moonlight

Yes, I suppose there is frost on the ground.

Lifting my head I gaze at the bright moon

Bowing my head, thinking of home.

Hard is the way of the world III

Don't wash your ears on hearing something you dislike

Nor die of hunger like famous hermits on the Pike!

Living without a fame among the motley crowd,

Why should one be as lofty as the moon or cloud?

Of ancient talents who failed to retire, there's none

But came to tragic ending after glory's won.

The head of General Wu was hung o'er city gate;

In the river was drowned the poet laureate.

The highly talented scholar wished in vain

To preserve his life to hear the cry of the crane.

Minister Li regretted not to have retired

To hunt with falcon gray as he had long desired.

Have you not heard of Zhang Han who resigned, carefree,

To go home to eat his perch with high glee?

Enjoy a cup of wine while you're alive!

Do not care if your fame will not survive!


Crows Calling at Night

Yellow clouds beside the walls; crows roosting near.
Flying back, they caw, caw; calling in the boughs.
In the loom she weaves brocade, the Qin river girl.
Made of emerald yarn like mist, the window hides her words.
She stops the shuttle, sorrowful, and thinks of the distant man.
She stays alone in the lonely room, her tears just like the rain.


Waking From Drunkenness on a Spring Day

Life in the world is but a big dream;
I will not spoil it by any labour or care.
so saying, I was drunk all the day,
lying helpless at the porch in front of my door.

when I awoke, I blinked at the garden-lawn;
a lonely bird was singing amid the flowers.
I asked myself, had the day been wet or fine?
the Spring wind was telling the mango-bird.

moved by its song I soon began to sigh,
and, as wine was there, I filled my own cup.
wildly singing I waited for the moon to rise;
when my song was over, all my senses had gone.

Translation: Arthur Waley


A Poem Of Changgan

My hair had hardly covered my forehead.

I was picking flowers, playing by my door,

When you, my lover, on a bamboo horse,

Came trotting in circles and throwing green plums.

We lived near together on a lane in Ch'ang-kan,

Both of us young and happy-hearted.

...At fourteen I became your wife,

So bashful that I dared not smile,

And I lowered my head toward a dark corner

And would not turn to your thousand calls;

But at fifteen I straightened my brows and laughed,

Learning that no dust could ever seal our love,

That even unto death I would await you by my post

And would never lose heart in the tower of silent watching.

...Then when I was sixteen, you left on a long journey

Through the Gorges of Ch'u-t'ang, of rock and whirling water.

And then came the Fifth-month, more than I could bear,

And I tried to hear the monkeys in your lofty far-off sky.

Your footprints by our door, where I had watched you go,

Were hidden, every one of them, under green moss,

Hidden under moss too deep to sweep away.

And the first autumn wind added fallen leaves.

And now, in the Eighth-month, yellowing butterflies

Hover, two by two, in our west-garden grasses

And, because of all this, my heart is breaking

And I fear for my bright cheeks, lest they fade.

...Oh, at last, when you return through the three Pa districts,

Send me a message home ahead!

And I will come and meet you and will never mind the distance,

All the way to Chang-feng Sha.

The Old Dust

The living is a passing traveler;

The dead, a man come home.

One brief journey between heaven and earth,

Then, alas! we are the same old dust of ten thousand ages.

The rabbit in the moon pounds the elixir in vain;

Fu-sang, the tree of immortality, has crumbled to kindling wood.

Man dies, his white bones are dumb without a word

While the green pines feel the coming of the spring.

Looking back, I sigh; looking before, I sigh again.

What is there to prize in the life's vaporous glory?


Chuang Tzu and the Butterfly

Chuang Tzu in dream became a butterfly,

And the butterfly became Chuang Tzu at waking.

Which was the real — the butterfly or the man ?

Who can tell the end of the endless changes of things?

The water that flows into the depth of the distant sea

Returns in time to the shallows of a transparent stream.

The man, raising melons outside the green gate of the city,

Was once the Prince of the East Hill.

So must rank and riches vanish.

You know it, still you toil and toil — what for?

.

Before The Cask of Wine

The spring wind comes from the east and quickly passes,

Leaving faint ripples in the wine of the golden bowl.

The flowers fall, flake after flake, myriads together.

You, pretty girl, wine-flushed,

Your rosy face is rosier still.

How long may the peach and plum trees flower

By the green-painted house?

The fleeting light deceives man,

Brings soon the stumbling age.

Rise and dance

In the westering sun

While the urge of youthful years is yet unsubdued!

What avails to lament after one's hair has turned white

like silken threads?


Look Towards Mountain Skygate

Mountain Skygate is rammed open and cut through by River Chu,

Clear water waves roll east then eddy here.

Verdant mountains unfold themselves slowly, at my left and right,

As my solitary sail drifting afar from where the sun is arise.

Long Yearning

Long yearning,

To be in Chang'an.

The grasshoppers weave their autumn song by the golden railing of the well;

Frost coalesces on my bamboo mat, changing its colour with cold.

My lonely lamp is not bright, I’d like to end these thoughts;

I roll back the hanging, gaze at the moon, and long sigh in vain.

The beautiful person's like a flower beyond the edge of the clouds.

Above is the black night of heaven's height;

Below is the green water billowing on.

The sky is long, the road is far, bitter flies my spirit;

The spirit I dream can't get through, the mountain pass is hard.

Long yearning,

Breaks my heart.

Long Yearning (Sent Far)

When the beautiful woman was here, the hall was filled with flowers,

Now the beautiful woman's gone, the bed is lying empty.

On the bed, the embroidered quilt is rolled up: no-one sleeps,

Though three years have now gone by, I think I smell that scent.

The scent is finished but not destroyed,

The woman's gone and does not come.

Yearning yellows the falling leaf,

White dew beads the green moss.

Staying the Night at a Mountain Temple

The high tower is a hundred feet tall,

From here one's hand could pluck the stars.

I do not dare to speak in a loud voice,

I fear to disturb the people in heaven.