QU YUAN

While the clouds gather beneath me

All gloomy and dark is the day;

The east wind drifts and god sends down rain.

Waiting for the divine one, I forget to go home.

The year is late. Who will now bedeck me?

'I pluck the larkspur on the mountain side,

The rocks are craggy; and the vines tangled.

Complaining of the young lord, sadly I forget to go home.

You, my lord, are thinking of me; but you have no time,'

The man in the mountain, fragrant with sweet herb,

Drinks from the rocky spring, shaded by pines and firs.

'You, my lord, are thinking of me, but then you hesitate.'

The thunder rumbles and the rain darkens;

The gibbons mourn, howling all the night;

The wind whistles and the trees are bare.

'I am thing of the young lord; I sorrow in vain.

The Mountain Spirit

There seems to be a man in the deep mountain,

Clad in creeping vine and girded with ivy,

With a charming look and a becoming smile.

'Do you admire me for my lovely form?'

She rides a red leopard - striped lynxes following behind -

Her chariot of magnolia arrayed with banners of cassia,

Her cloak made of orchids and her girdle of azalea,

Calling sweet flowers for those dear in her heart.

'I live in a bamboo grove, the sky unseen

The road hither is steep and dangerous; I arrive alone and late.

Alone I stand on the mountain top

While the clouds gather beneath me.

'All gloomy and dark is the day;

The east wind drifts and god sends down rain.

Waiting for the divine one, I forget to go home.

The year is late. Who will now bedeck me?

'I pluck the larkspur on the mountain side,

The rocks are craggy; and the vines tangled.

Complaining of the young lord, sadly I forget to go home.

You, my lord, are thinking of me; but you have no time,'

The man in the mountain, fragrant with sweet herb,

Drinks from the rocky spring, shaded by pines and firs.

'You, my lord, are thinking of me, but then you hesitate.'

The thunder rumbles and the rain darkens;

The gibbons mourn, howling all the night;

The wind whistles and the trees are bare.

'I am thing of the young lord; I sorrow in vain.'

Li Sao

A prince am I of ancestry renowned,

Illustrious name my royal sire hath found.

When Sirius did in spring its light display,

A child was born, and Tiger marked the day.

When first upon my face my lord's eye glanced,

For me auspicious names he straight advanced,

Denoting that in me Heaven's marks divine

Should with the virtues of the earth combine.

With lavished innate qualities indued,

By art and skill my talents I renewed;

Angelic herbs and sweet selineas too,

And orchids late that by the water grew,

I wove for ornament; till creeping Time,

Like water flowing, stole away my prime.

Magnolias of the glade I plucked at dawn,

At eve beside the stream took winter-thorn.

Without delay the sun and moon sped fast,

In swift succession spring and autumn passed;

The fallen flowers lay scattered on the ground,

The dusk might fall before my dream was found.

Had I not loved my prime and spurned the vile,

Why should I not have changed my former style?

My chariot drawn by steeds of race divine

I urged; to guide the king my sole design.

Three ancient kings there were so pure and true

That round them every fragrant flower grew;

Cassia and pepper of the mountain-side

With melilotus white in clusters vied.

Two monarchs then, who high renown received,

Followed the kingly way, their goal achieved.

Two princes proud by lust their reign abused,

Sought easier path, and their own steps confused.

The faction for illict pleasure longed;

Dreadful their way where hidden perils thronged.

Danger against myself could not appal,

But feared I lest my sovereign's sceptre fall.

Forward and back I hastened in my quest,

Followed the former kings, and took no rest.

The prince my true integrity defamed,

Gave ear to slander, high his anger flamed;

Integrity I knew could not avail,

Yet still endured; my lord I would not fail.

Celestial spheres my witness be on high,

I strove but for his sacred majesty.

Twas first to me he gave his plighted word,

But soon repenting other counsel heard.

For me departure could arouse no pain;

I grieved to see his royal purpose vain.

Nine fields of orchids at one time I grew,

For melilot a hundred acres too,

And fifty acres for the azalea bright,

The rumex fragrant and the lichen white.

I longed to see them yielding blossoms rare,

And thought in season due the spoil to share.

I did not grieve to see them die away,

But grieved because midst weeds they did decay.

Insatiable in lust and greediness

The faction strove, and tired not of excess;

Themselves condoning, others they'd decry,

And steep their hearts in envious jealousy.

Insatiably they seized what they desired,

It was not that to which my heart aspired.

As old age unrelenting hurried near,

Lest my fair name should fail was all my fear.

Dew from magnolia leaves I drank at dawn,

At eve for food were aster petals borne;

And loving thus the simple and the fair,

How should I for my sallow features care?

With gathered vines I strung valeria white,

And mixed with blue wistaria petals bright,

And melilotus matched with cassia sweet,

With ivy green and tendrils long to meet.

Life I adapted to the ancient way,

Leaving the manners of the present day;

Thus unconforming to the modern age,

The path I followed of a bygone sage.

Long did I sigh and wipe away my tears,

To see my people bowed by griefs and fears.

Though I my gifts enhanced and curbed my pride,

At morn they'd mock me, would at eve deride;

First cursed that I angelica should wear,

Then cursed me for my melilotus fair.

But since my heart did love such purity,

I'd not regret a thousand deaths to die.

I marvel at the folly of the king,

So heedless of his people's suffering.

They envied me my mothlike eyebrows fine,

And so my name his damsels did malign.

Truly to craft alone their praise they paid,

The square in measuring they disobeyed;

The use of common rules they held debased;

With confidence their crooked lines they traced.

In sadness plunged and sunk in deepest gloom,

Alone I drove on to my dreary doom.

In exile rather would I meet my end,

Than to the baseness of their ways descend.

Remote the eagle spurns the common range,

Nor deigns since time began its way to change;

A circle fits not with a square design;

Their different ways could not be merged with mine.

Yet still my heart I checked and curbed my pride,

Their blame endured and their reproach beside.

To die for righteousness alone I sought,

For this was what the ancient sages taught.

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