Ballads in the Music Bureau Style

Wang Zhihuan — Beyond the FrontierThe Yellow River winds away into white clouds;A single lonely fortress stands amid mountains ten thousand feet high.Why should the Qiang flute lament the willows?The spring wind does not pass the Jade Pass.

Wang Changling — Beyond the FrontierThe moon of Qin shines on the passes of Han; the men who went ten thousand miles to war have not returned.If the Flying General of Dragon City were still here, no nomad horses would cross the Yin Mountains.

Wang Changling — Song beneath the Frontier, First PoemCicadas sing in the empty mulberry grove; it is August on the road to Xiao Pass.Outside the frontier and inside it, cold prevails; yellow reeds grow everywhere.Since ancient times, men of You and Bing have grown old amid dust and sand.Do not imitate wandering swordsmen, boasting of the beauty of their chestnut horses.

Wang Changling — Song beneath the Frontier, Second PoemWe water our horses and cross the autumn stream; the water is cold, the wind cuts like a knife.The sun has not yet set on the level sand; dimly we make out Lintao.All speak of the high courage in the ancient battle at the Great Wall.Yellow dust covers past and present; white bones lie tangled in the wild grass.

Wang Changling — Lament at Changxin PalaceI hold a broom as the golden palace opens at dawn;For a while I wander with my round silk fan.My jade-white face cannot rival a cold crow's color:The crow can still come bearing sunlight from Zhaoyang Palace.

Wang Wei — Song of WeichengMorning rain at Weicheng dampens the light dust; beside the inn the willows shine fresh green.I urge you to empty one more cup of wine; west of Yang Pass there will be no old friends.

Wang Wei — Song of an Autumn NightThe moon's bright spirit has just risen; autumn dew is faint, and my sheer silk has grown thin, but I do not change my clothes.Long into the night I play the silver zither intently; afraid of the empty room, I cannot bear to return.

Wang Wei — Song of a Girl of LuoyangThe girl of Luoyang lives across the street, lovely and just over fifteen.Her husband rides a dapple-gray horse with a jade bridle; her maid serves sliced carp on a golden dish.Their painted pavilions and crimson towers face one another; red peaches and green willows lean toward their eaves.Silk curtains escort her into a fragrant carriage; jeweled fans welcome her home beneath flowered canopies.Her reckless husband grew rich while young, arrogant and extravagant beyond Shi Jilun.He dotes on his young beauty and teaches her to dance, and gives away coral without regret.In her spring window the nine-branched lamp dies at dawn; its scattered embers fly like flecks of blossom.After games she has no time to arrange a melody; when adorned, she simply sits in fragrant incense.All her friends in the city are wealthy; day and night she visits the houses of Zhao and Li.Who cares for the jade-beautiful girl of Yue, washing silk by the river in poverty?

Wang Wei — Song of the Old GeneralWhen he was only fifteen or twenty, he seized a nomad horse while fighting on foot.He shot dead a white-browed tiger in the mountains; who would count the yellow-bearded prince of Ye beside him?Alone he fought for three thousand miles; with a single sword he faced a million troops.The Han army charged like thunder; enemy horsemen broke and fled in terror of its caltrops.Wei Qing was never defeated by heaven's favor; Li Guang won no honors because his luck was strange.Once cast aside, he weakened and aged; wasted years turned his hair white.Once his arrows struck without missing an eye; now a willow sprouts from his left elbow.Sometimes he sells the former marquis's melons by the roadside, plants willows by his gate like the old master.Ancient trees spread darkness over his narrow lane; cold mountains stand forlorn beyond the empty window.He vows to draw water in Shule's desert, not simply drown his sorrows in wine like the man of Yingchuan.Below Mount Helan the enemy ranks mass like clouds; urgent feathered letters race in morning and evening.Envoys summon young recruits from the Three Rivers; edicts send commanders down five roads.He brushes the dust from his armor till it shines like snow; taking up his precious sword, he stirs its starry patterns.He would draw a bow of Yan against the enemy's heavenly general, ashamed to let Yue armor clash against Wu.Do not scorn the former governor of Yunzhong: he can still win glory in one more battle.

Wang Wei — Song of Peach Blossom SpringA fisherman's boat followed the water, enchanted by spring among the mountains; peach flowers lined the channel on either bank.He gazed at red trees and forgot how far he had gone; following the green stream to its end, he saw no one.He slipped through a narrow mountain opening, turning into a hidden bend; the mountain opened, and a level plain suddenly spread before him.From afar he saw trees massed like clouds; nearby, a thousand homes were scattered among blossoms and bamboo.The woodcutter first spoke of the Han dynasty's names; the villagers still wore the dress of Qin.They lived together at Wuling's spring, having made a farm beyond the world.Beneath the moonlit pines their windows were quiet; at sunrise among clouds, cocks and dogs clamored.Startled to hear of a visitor from the world, they crowded around, led him into their homes and asked about the cities.At dawn the lanes were swept clean as flowers opened; at dusk fishermen and woodcutters came in by water.At first they had fled the world to escape its troubles; becoming immortals, they never returned.Who could know there were human lives within the gorge? Those in the world saw only mountains in clouds far away.He did not imagine the enchanted place would be hard to find again; still longing for home, he could not stay.Coming out of the cave, he cared little for the mountains and waters between; he took his leave, planning to wander back.He thought he knew the old way and could not lose it; how could he know the peaks and valleys had changed?He remembered only how far into the hills he had gone, and how many bends in the green stream led to those cloudy woods.When spring comes, peach blossoms cover the water everywhere; how can anyone find the immortal spring again?

Li Bai — Song of Pure Peace, First PoemHer dress makes me think of clouds, her face of flowers; spring wind brushes the railing and dew shines thickly.If she is not seen atop Mount Jade, she must be met beneath the moon on the jasper terrace.

Li Bai — Song of Pure Peace, Second PoemOne red blossom glows, its fragrance heavy with dew; the clouds and rain of Mount Wu need not break our hearts.Ask which beauty of the Han palace could resemble her: even Feiyan must lean on fresh adornment.

Li Bai — Song of Pure Peace, Third PoemThe famous flower and kingdom-captivating beauty rejoice together; the smiling king looks on without tiring.Spring wind releases its boundless longing: north of the Aloeswood Pavilion they lean on the railing.

Li Bai — Bring in the WineDo you not see? The Yellow River's waters come down from heaven, rush to the sea, and never return!Do you not see? In the high hall's mirror, they mourn white hair: black silk at dawn, snow at night!When life gives us joy, let us have our fill; do not leave the golden cup empty beneath the moon.Heaven gave me my gifts for some purpose; a thousand gold pieces spent will come again.Cook the lamb and slaughter the ox; let us be merry and drink three hundred cups at a sitting.Master Cen, my friend Danqiu, bring in the wine and do not let the cups rest.I will sing you a song; lend me your ears and listen.Bells and drums, fine dishes of jade are not worth prizing; I wish only to stay drunk and never wake.The sages and worthies of old have all fallen silent; only the drinkers leave their names behind.Once the Prince of Chen held a banquet at Pingle, spending ten thousand coins for a measure of wine in boundless revelry.Why should our host say he has too little money? Go and buy the wine so we can drink together.The dappled horse, the fur coat worth a thousand gold pieces—Call the boy to take them and trade them for fine wine; with you I will drown ten thousand years of sorrow.

Li Bai — Lament of the Jade StepsWhite dew forms upon the jade steps; long into the night it soaks my silk stockings.I let down the crystal curtain, but still look through it at the lucid autumn moon.

Li Bai — Endless Longing, First PoemEndless longing, in Chang'an: crickets cry in autumn by the golden well rail, faint frost chills the bamboo sleeping mat.The lone lamp gives little light, my longing nearly breaks me; I roll up the curtain, gaze at the moon and sigh in vain: my flowerlike love is beyond the clouds.Above, the blue-black heavens stretch without end; below, the clear waters roll in waves.The sky is vast, the road long, the soul's flight painful; the dream soul cannot cross the hard mountain passes.Endless longing breaks my heart.

Li Bai — Endless Longing, Second PoemAs daylight fades, flowers hold the mist; the moon shines white, and sorrow keeps me awake.The Zhao zither has fallen silent by its phoenix bridges; I would play the Shu lute with its mandarin-duck strings.There is feeling in this tune but no one to carry it; may the spring wind bear it to Mount Yanran, where I remember you beyond the far blue sky.The eyes that once glimmered like waves have become a spring of tears.If you doubt my heart is breaking, return and look at me before the mirror.

Li Bai — Hard Is the Road, First PoemClear wine in golden cups costs ten thousand coins a measure; delicacies on jade platters are worth ten thousand more.I set down my cup, throw away my chopsticks, unable to eat; I draw my sword and look around with an empty heart.I would cross the Yellow River, but ice blocks the stream; I would climb the Taihang Mountains, but snow covers their peaks.At leisure I fish beside a green creek; suddenly I dream of sailing near the sun.Hard is the road! Hard is the road! So many branching paths—where can I turn now?One day I will ride the long wind and break the waves, hoist my cloudlike sail and cross the vast sea.

Li Bai — Hard Is the Road, Second PoemThe great road is broad as the blue sky, yet I alone cannot take it.I would be ashamed to join the young rakes of Chang'an, who bet their pears and chestnuts on red cocks and white dogs.I strike my sword and sing a bitter song; dragging my robe at a lord's gate does not suit my heart.The market folk of Huaiyin laughed at Han Xin; the courtiers of Han envied young Jia Yi.Do you not see how the ruler of Yan valued Guo Wei, bowing low and holding a broom, without suspicion?Ju Xin and Yue Yi felt that kindness, offering their hearts and their talents in his service.King Zhao's white bones are bound in rotting grass; who now will sweep the Golden Terrace?Hard is the road: let me go home.

Li Bai — Hard Is the Road, Third PoemThough you have ears, do not wash them in the Ying River; though you have a mouth, do not eat the ferns of Shouyang.Keep your light hidden and mingle with the world, cherishing an unknown name; why live aloof to rival clouds and moon?I see that worthy men since ancient times who did not retire when their work was done have lost their lives.Wu Zixu was cast away on the Wu River; Qu Yuan finally plunged into the Xiang.Could Lu Ji's mighty talent preserve him? Li Si delayed his departure too long.How could one hear the cranes of Huating again? What use to speak of the hawks of Shangcai?Do you not see Zhang Han of Wu, who knew how to live, and when autumn winds came suddenly thought of returning east?Take joy for now in a cup of wine while you live; why seek a thousand years of fame after death?

Li Bai — Song of ChangganWhen my hair had just begun to cover my forehead, I plucked flowers and played before the gate.You came riding a bamboo horse, circling the bench with green plums in your hand.We lived together in Changgan village, two children free of doubt or suspicion.At fourteen I became your wife, too shy to show my face.I bowed my head toward the dark wall and would not turn though you called a thousand times.At fifteen my brows finally relaxed; I wished to be with you until we turned to dust and ash.Your promise stood firm as the man who clung to a pillar; why would I climb a tower to watch for my husband?At sixteen you went far away, to Qutang Gorge and the Yanyu rocks.In the fifth month no ship can brush those rocks; the gibbons cry mournfully from the sky.Your departing footprints lingered before the door; green moss grew over each one.The moss is too deep to sweep away; early autumn winds bring fallen leaves.In the eighth month butterflies come, flying in pairs over grass in the western garden.Their sight wounds my heart; sitting in sorrow, I fear my rosy face will age.When you come down from the Three Ba, send a letter home beforehand.I will come to meet you, however far away, even as far as Changfeng Sands.

Li Bai — Hard Is the Road to ShuAh! How steep it is, how high!The road to Shu is harder than climbing the blue sky!Cancong and Yufu first founded the kingdom, so long ago the story is lost in haze!Forty-eight thousand years passed before human paths connected it with the Qin frontier.To the west, by Mount Taibai, only a bird path crossed toward Emei's summit.Mountains broke, the earth collapsed, and strong men died; only then were the ladders to heaven and plank roads joined.Above it towers a peak high enough to turn back the sun's six dragons;Below, a rushing river bends back upon itself amid crashing waves.Even the yellow crane cannot fly across; gibbons despair of climbing past it.How twisting is the Blue Mud path! In a hundred paces it turns nine times around the crags.We touch the Shen stars and pass the Jing stars, look up and hold our breath; with hands upon our chests we sigh aloud.When will you return from your westward journey? The treacherous way climbs cliffs too sheer to scale.Only grieving birds cry out in ancient trees, males flying and females following around the forest.And we hear cuckoos crying beneath the night moon, bringing grief to the empty hills.The road to Shu is harder than climbing the blue sky;To hear this is enough to drain the color from a face!Peak after peak stands within a foot of heaven; withered pines hang upside down from sheer cliffs.Flying rapids and waterfalls roar in contest, striking cliffs and rolling boulders with the thunder of ten thousand valleys.Such are its dangers: alas, traveler from afar, why have you come here?Sword Gate rears high and forbidding: one man guards the pass, and ten thousand cannot break through.If the man who guards it is not loyal, he turns wolf or jackal.By morning avoid savage tigers; by evening, venomous snakes.They grind their teeth and suck blood, slaughtering men beyond counting.Though Brocade City may be pleasant, better hurry home.The road to Shu is harder than climbing the blue sky;I turn westward and sigh and sigh again.

Li Bai — Midnight Song of Wu, Spring SongLuofu, a girl of Qin, gathers mulberry leaves beside green waters.Her pale hands reach among green boughs; her red adornments shine in daylight.“My silkworms are hungry; I must go. Do not linger here, lord of the five-horse carriage.”

Li Bai — Midnight Song of Wu, Summer SongMirror Lake stretches three hundred miles; lotus blossoms open everywhere.Xi Shi picked them in the fifth month; crowds watching her filled Ruoye Creek.Before the moon rose her boat turned back, bound for the king of Yue's home.

Li Bai — Midnight Song of Wu, Autumn SongOne expanse of moonlight over Chang'an; from ten thousand houses comes the sound of pounding clothes.The autumn wind blows without end, bearing every thought toward the Jade Pass.When will the nomad raiders be subdued, and the men we love come home from their long campaign?

Li Bai — Midnight Song of Wu, Winter SongThe courier sets out at dawn; all night I pad a soldier's winter coat.My pale fingers grow cold pulling the needle; how can I bear to grip the scissors?I cut and sew this coat to send it down the long road: how many days before it reaches Lintao?

Li Bai — Moon over the Frontier PassThe bright moon rises over the Tianshan Mountains, amid vast oceans of cloud.A great wind blows ten thousand miles across the Jade Pass.The Han marched down the road to Baideng; the nomads watched Qinghai Bay.This has always been a place of war; men who go there do not return.Garrison soldiers gaze out over the border, their faces drawn with homesickness.In high chambers tonight, their loved ones cannot have stopped sighing.

Li Yi — Song of the SouthI married a merchant of Qutang, who fails our promised meetings morning after morning.If I had known the tides kept faith, I would have married a man who rides the waves.

Li Qi — An Old Song of the CampaignAt dawn they climb the hill to watch for beacon fires; at dusk they water their horses by the Jiao River.The watchmen's gongs sound through dark wind and sand; the princess's pipa is heavy with grief.Wild clouds stretch ten thousand miles with no city walls in sight; sleet falls without end across the great desert.Nomad geese fly each night with mournful cries; nomad children shed tears from both eyes.Word comes that the Jade Pass is still closed: they must follow the light chariot with their lives.Year after year, war bones lie buried beyond the wastes; all we see is grapes entering the Han lands.

Du Fu — Song of the War CartsCarts rumble, horses neigh; every marching man carries bow and arrows at his waist.Fathers and mothers, wives and children run to say farewell; dust hides the Xianyang Bridge.They clutch at clothes, stamp their feet, and block the road crying; their cries climb straight into the clouds.A passerby asks one of the men; he only says, “They draft us again and again.Some at fifteen go north to guard the river, and at forty still farm for the army in the west.When they went, the village head wrapped their heads for them; they came home white-haired, and still were sent to the border.On that frontier blood flows enough to make a sea; the martial emperor has not tired of enlarging his borders.Have you not heard of the two hundred prefectures east of the mountains in the Han realm, where thorn trees grow in a thousand villages?Even when strong women hold the plow, the grain grows in disorder along the fields.Yet the soldiers of Qin endure hard battles, driven about as though they were dogs or chickens.Though you, elder, ask me, how dare a conscript voice his bitterness?Take this very winter: the troops west of the passes have not been relieved.The county officials demand taxes urgently: from what can taxes be paid?Truly it is bad to have a son, and better to have a daughter.A daughter can still marry into the neighboring house; a son is buried in the weeds.Have you not seen the banks of Qinghai Lake, where old bones lie uncollected?New ghosts chafe with grief, old ghosts cry out; in rainy darkness their voices wail.”

Du Fu — Song of the Beautiful LadiesOn the third day of the third month the air is fresh; by Chang'an's waters there are many beautiful women.Rich in bearing, graceful in spirit, noble and true, their skin is smooth and their figures well proportioned.Their embroidered silks shine in late spring, golden peacocks and silver unicorns raised on the fabric.What ornaments crown their heads? Kingfisher-green leaves hang down beside their temples.What shows behind them? Pearls weigh down their sashes, fitting perfectly at the waist.Among them beneath cloudlike awnings are the palace consorts, the women called the Ladies of Guo and Qin.Humps of purple camel are served from green cauldrons; white fish pass round on crystal plates.Sated, they leave their rhinoceros chopsticks idle; the jeweled knives slice delicacies in vain.Palace eunuchs gallop in without stirring dust, as cooks stream from the royal kitchen with eight exquisite dishes.Flutes and drums sound plaintively, stirring even spirits; the press of their guests and followers fills the crossroads.Then horsemen arrive, moving with deliberate ease; one dismounts before the pavilion and enters the brocade mat.Willow fluff falls like snow over white water plants; a bluebird flies away with a red scarf in its beak.His power burns to the touch, without equal: do not draw near, or the chief minister will be angry.

Du Fu — Lament at the RiverbankAn old man of Shaoling chokes back tears as he walks unseen beside the winding Qu River in spring.A thousand palace doors are locked by the river; for whom do slender willows and new reeds grow green?I remember when rainbow banners descended into the southern garden and everything within it brightened.The foremost beauty of Zhaoyang Palace rode beside the king in his carriage and attended him.Before their carriage, ladies of the court wore bows and arrows; white horses chewed at golden bits.They turned and shot upward toward the clouds, bringing down a pair of birds with a single arrow.Where are those bright eyes and white teeth now? Her wandering soul, blood-stained, cannot return.The clear Wei flows east, the Sword Gate is deep; the one gone and the one left behind have no news of each other.Human hearts have feeling and tears wet our breasts; do river waters and flowers have no end?At dusk nomad riders fill the city with dust; I seek the south side of town and forget which way is south.

Du Fu — Lament for the PrinceWhite-headed crows perch on Chang'an's walls; at night they fly and cry over the Yanqiu Gate.They peck at the roofs of great houses, beneath which high officials flee the nomads.Golden whips break, nine horses die; kinsmen cannot wait for one another as they flee.A jeweled pendant of green coral hangs at his waist; the royal grandson weeps in a corner of the road.Asked who he is, he will not give his name; he speaks only of hardship and begs to become a servant.He has hidden a hundred days among thorn bushes, without a patch of unbroken skin on his body.The High Emperor's descendants all have prominent noses; the dragon's seed differs from ordinary men.Wolves and jackals hold the city while the dragon lives in the wilderness; young prince, guard your precious life.At the crossroads I dare not speak at length; I can only stand with the prince a moment.Last night the east wind carried the smell of blood; camels came from the east and filled the old capital.The brave men of Shuofang are skilled fighters: how fierce they once were, how foolish now.I hear secretly that the emperor has passed on the throne, that his sacred virtue has won the northern and southern chanyus.The people of Huamen have gashed their faces, asking to avenge the shame; do not speak of it—others are watching.Alas, young prince, do not grow careless; the Five Mausoleums never lack auspicious air.

Du Qiuniang — Robe of Golden ThreadI urge you not to treasure a robe of golden thread;I urge you to cherish the days when you are young.When flowers bloom and can be picked, pick them now;Do not wait until there are no flowers and pluck an empty branch.

Shen Quanqi — Alone, UnseenThe young wife of the Lu family sits in a turmeric-scented hall, while sea swallows nest in pairs on tortoiseshell beams.In the ninth month the cold pounding blocks urge the leaves to fall; for ten years she has remembered his service at Liaoyang.Beyond White Wolf River his letters have ceased; south of the Vermilion Phoenix Gate the autumn nights grow long.Who will see her alone and filled with sorrow, while the bright moon shines on her yellow silk?

Meng Jiao — Song of the Faithful WomanParasol trees grow old together; mandarin ducks die as a pair.A faithful wife prizes dying for her husband, yielding her own life as they do.I swear no waves shall ever rise; my heart is water in an ancient well.

Meng Jiao — A Wanderer's SongThe thread in a loving mother's hands becomes the clothes upon her traveling son's back.Before he leaves she stitches seam after close seam, afraid that he will be long in coming home.Who says the heart of a single blade of grass can repay the sunlight of three spring months?

Gao Shi — Song of Yan, with PrefaceIn the twenty-sixth year of Kaiyuan, a traveler returned from a frontier campaign with Lord Zhang, the censor-in-chief. He showed me his “Song of Yan”; moved by the soldiers' campaign, I wrote this in response.War smoke rises in the northeast of Han; Han generals leave home to break the remaining rebels.Men naturally prize bold advances; the emperor has honored them beyond the ordinary.Gongs clang and drums beat as they descend through Elm Pass; long banners wind among the Jieshi hills.A commander's feathered dispatch flies across the desert; the chanyu's hunting fires light Wolf Mountain.Bleak hills and rivers reach the outermost border; enemy horsemen charge arrogantly through wind and rain.Half the soldiers die or live at the front; in the tents beautiful women still sing and dance.On the great desert autumn comes to an end, frontier grasses wither; beneath the setting sun by the lonely town few men remain to fight.Favored by the king, the generals always scorn their enemy; their strength spent beyond the passes, they have not broken the siege.The armored men have endured their long distant service; after parting, tears must stream down their wives' pale cheeks.Young wives south of the walls feel their hearts break; soldiers north of Ji look back in vain.The frontier sweeps far away: how can they cross it? Beyond it lies only emptiness.War's deadly air makes battle clouds all day; all night the watchman's gong sends out its chilling sound.They look at one another, blood on bright blades; those who die for duty have never thought of honors.Have you not seen the bitterness of war on the sands? Even now men remember General Li.

Cui Hao — Song of Changgan, First Poem“Where is your home? Mine is in Hengtang.I have stopped my boat to ask: perhaps we come from the same village.”

Cui Hao — Song of Changgan, Second Poem“My home is by the waters of the Nine Rivers; I sail back and forth along their banks.We are both people of Changgan, though we have not known each other since childhood.”

Lu Lun — Song beneath the Frontier, First PoemEagle feathers trim his golden-headed arrow;His swallow-tailed banner is embroidered with ox tails.He stands alone and proclaims the new command;Ten thousand soldiers answer with a single shout.

Lu Lun — Song beneath the Frontier, Second PoemThe woods were dark; the grass stirred in the wind.The general drew his bow by night.At dawn they sought his white-feathered arrow:It had sunk deep into a ridge of stone.

Lu Lun — Song beneath the Frontier, Third PoemThe moon is dark, geese fly high; by night the chanyu steals away.We are about to pursue him with light cavalry, but heavy snow covers bows and swords.

Lu Lun — Song beneath the Frontier, Fourth PoemA tent in the wild shelters the jeweled feast;The Qiang and Rong congratulate the troops returned in triumph.Drunk in golden armor, we join the dance;Thunderous drums shake the mountains and rivers.

Wang Zhihuan — Beyond the FrontierThe Yellow River seems to rise into the white clouds in the distance;One lonely city stands among mountains ten thousand feet high.Why should the Qiang flute play a sad song about willow trees?The spring wind never crosses the Jade Pass.

Wang Changling — Beyond the FrontierThe moon is the same as in Qin times, the frontier pass the same as in Han; soldiers go ten thousand miles and do not return.If the flying general of Dragon City were still here, he would not let the northern horsemen cross the Yin Mountains.

Wang Changling — Song below the Frontier, First PoemCicadas sing in the empty mulberry grove; it is August on the road to Xiao Pass.It is cold on both sides of the frontier; yellow reeds grow everywhere.Men from You and Bing have always grown old in the dust and sand.Don't imitate the young adventurers who boast about their fine reddish horses.

Wang Changling — Song below the Frontier, Second PoemWe water our horses crossing autumn waters; the water is cold, and the wind cuts like a knife.The sun has not yet set over the level sands; dimly we can see Lintao.Everyone says the men who fought here at the Great Wall long ago were full of courage.Yellow dust covers all ages; white bones lie among weeds and wild wormwood.

Wang Changling — Complaint from Changxin PalaceAt dawn the golden hall opens, and she comes with a broom;She walks about for a while carrying her round fan.Her lovely face is not even as fortunate as a cold crow:The crow can still bring back sunlight from Zhaoyang Palace.

Wang Wei — Song of WeichengMorning rain in Weicheng dampens the light dust; at the travelers' inn the willow trees look fresh and green.I urge you to finish one more cup of wine: west of Yang Pass, you will have no old friends.

Wang Wei — Song of an Autumn NightThe moon has just risen and autumn dew is slight; her thin silk clothes are already too light, but she has not changed.She plays her silver zither intently late into the night, afraid to return to her empty room alone.

Wang Wei — Song of a Girl from LuoyangAcross the street lives a girl from Luoyang; she is beautiful and just over fifteen.Her husband rides a dappled horse with a jade bridle; her maid serves finely sliced carp on a gold plate.Painted pavilions and red towers face each other; red peach and green willow branches hang down from the eaves.She goes out behind silk curtains in a richly scented carriage and returns behind a jeweled fan to a flowered canopy.Her reckless husband became rich and powerful while young; his arrogance and luxury surpass even Shi Chong's.He loves his beautiful wife and teaches her to dance himself; he gives away coral without a thought.At dawn by the spring window the nine-branched lamp burns out; sparks from its nine lights scatter like flowers.After the games end she has no time to learn a tune; when her makeup is done she just sits surrounded by perfume.Her acquaintances in the city are all rich; day and night she visits the homes of Zhao and Li.Who cares for the Yue girl, beautiful as jade, who washes silk alone at the riverbank in poverty?

Wang Wei — The Old GeneralWhen he was fifteen or twenty, he captured a northern horse while fighting on foot.He shot the white-foreheaded tiger in the hills; why would he count the deeds of the yellow-bearded boy from Ye?He fought across three thousand miles, and once held off a million soldiers with his sword.Han troops struck as fast as thunder; the enemy horsemen scattered in fear of the caltrops.Wei Qing never lost because heaven favored him; Li Guang won no honor because his luck was bad.Since he was dismissed, he has grown weak and old; as the years slipped away, his hair turned white.His arrows once struck birds through the eye; now a growth like willow bark has appeared on his left elbow.Sometimes he sells melons by the road like a former marquis; by his gate he learns to grow willows like a teacher.Old trees spread across his narrow lane; a cold, empty hill faces his open window.He vows to bring water gushing from Shule, not merely drink himself into a stupor like the man from Yingchuan.Beneath Mount Helan, armies gather like clouds; military messages rush past from morning to night.Envoys recruit young men from the three river districts; imperial orders send generals out along five routes.He brushes his iron armor till it shines like snow, and takes up his fine sword with its starry patterns.He wants a bow from Yan to shoot the enemy commander; he would be ashamed to hear Yue armor clashing against Wu's army.Do not look down on the former governor of Yunzhong: he can still win honor in one battle.

Wang Wei — Journey to Peach Blossom SpringA fisherman follows the stream in his boat, loving the mountain spring; peach blossoms line both banks as he goes.Watching the red trees, he does not notice how far he has traveled; he reaches the end of the green stream without seeing anyone.He moves quietly into the mountain opening and first finds a hidden bend; then the hills open into a broad, flat plain.Far off he sees trees gathered like clouds; close up he enters a thousand homes among scattered flowers and bamboo.The woodcutters first speak names from the Han dynasty, but the residents still wear clothes from Qin times.Living together at the source of Wuling, they built their farms outside the familiar world.By moonlight their rooms are quiet beneath the pines; at sunrise chickens and dogs call among the clouds.Amazed to hear of an outsider, people gather and bring him to their homes, asking about the cities.At dawn the lanes are swept clean of fallen flowers; at dusk fishermen and woodcutters enter by water.Their ancestors first left human society to escape trouble; once they became immortals, they did not return.Who outside this gorge knows people live here? From the world outside one sees only distant cloudy mountains.He does not suspect how hard it is to find this magical place again; his thoughts remain worldly, and he misses his home district.He leaves the cave, untroubled by the mountains and water between; saying goodbye, he plans to return and stay a long time.He thinks he knows the old route and will not get lost; how can he know that mountains and valleys have changed?He remembers only going deep into the mountains, following the green stream around several bends to the cloudy woods.In spring peach blossoms cover the water everywhere; he cannot tell where to look for the hidden source.

Li Bai — Clear and Peaceful Melody, First PoemThe clouds suggest her clothes, and flowers her face; the spring wind brushes the railing and the dew shines thickly.If she is not seen at the top of Mount Qunyu, she must be met by moonlight at the Jade Terrace.

Li Bai — Clear and Peaceful Melody, Second PoemOne red flower shines as dew gathers its fragrance; the cloud-and-rain goddess of Mount Wu grieves for nothing beside her.Who in the Han palace could compare? Even lovely Feiyan needs fresh makeup!

Li Bai — Clear and Peaceful Melody, Third PoemThe famous flower and the beautiful woman bring each other joy; the ruler always watches them with a smile.They ease every sadness the spring wind brings, leaning on the railing north of the Aloeswood Pavilion.

Li Bai — Bring the WineDon't you see the Yellow River's water come down from the sky, rush into the sea and never return?Don't you see how a person mourns their white hair in the mirror of a great hall: black as silk at dawn, white as snow by evening?When life goes well, we must enjoy it fully; don't let a gold cup face the moon empty.Heaven gave me talent for a reason; even if I spend a thousand gold coins, they will come back.Let us cook sheep and slaughter cattle for a feast; when we drink, it must be three hundred cups.Master Cen, my friend Danqiu, drink the wine and don't stop your cups.I'll sing you a song; please listen closely.Bells, drums and fine food are not worth prizing; I only wish to stay drunk and never wake.From ancient times the sages have gone unremembered; only the drinkers have left their names.The Prince of Chen once held a feast at Pingle, drinking costly wine and enjoying himself without restraint.Host, why say there isn't enough money? Go buy the wine at once, and let's drink together.The five-colored horse, the fur coat worth a thousand gold coins:Tell the boy to take them and exchange them for good wine, so we can ease the sorrow of ten thousand ages.

Li Bai — Complaint at the Jade StepsWhite dew forms on the jade steps; after a long night it soaks her silk socks.She lowers the crystal curtain and looks through it at the clear autumn moon.

Li Bai — Longing, First PoemI long for you in Chang'an. Crickets chirp in autumn by the gold well railing, and light frost chills the bamboo mat.Beside a dim, solitary lamp my longing overwhelms me; I roll up the curtain to watch the moon and sigh, but you are as far away as a flower beyond the clouds.Above is the long, dark sky; below, waves on clear water.The sky is vast and the road is long, and my spirit suffers as it flies; it cannot even reach you in dreams across the hard mountain passes.Longing for you breaks my heart.

Li Bai — Longing, Second PoemThe sunlight is fading, flowers are wrapped in mist, and under the bright moon I lie awake in sorrow.The music on my Zhao zither has stopped at its phoenix bridges; I want to play my Shu lute with its mandarin-duck strings.There is no one to carry the feeling in this song; I wish the spring wind would take it to Yanran, since you are far away across the blue sky.My eyes once looked bright and lively; now tears pour from them.If you don't believe my heart is broken, come back and look at my reflection in the mirror.

Li Bai — The Road Is Hard, First PoemClear wine in gold cups costs ten thousand coins a measure; fine food on jade plates costs ten thousand coins.I put down my cup and chopsticks, unable to eat; I draw my sword and look around, not knowing what to do.I want to cross the Yellow River, but ice blocks the stream; I want to climb the Taihang Mountains, but snow covers them.At ease, I fish in a green stream; suddenly I dream of sailing beside the sun.The road is hard! The road is hard! So many forks—where should I go now?One day the strong wind will help me break through the waves; I will raise my cloud-white sail and cross the vast sea.

Li Bai — The Road Is Hard, Second PoemThe great road is as wide as the blue sky, yet I alone cannot get through.I refuse to follow the boys of Chang'an who gamble on red roosters and white dogs for pears and chestnuts.I strike my sword and sing a bitter song; I am not happy trailing my robes through the rulers' gates.People in the market at Huaiyin laughed at Han Xin; Han officials envied Jia Yi.Didn't the ruler of Yan honor Guo Wei in the past, sweeping the path for him and humbling himself without suspicion?Ju Xin and Yue Yi were moved by that kindness and gave all they had in service with their outstanding talents.King Zhao's bones are now wrapped in rotting weeds; who will sweep the Golden Terrace again?The road is hard. I will go home.

Li Bai — The Road Is Hard, Third PoemIf you have ears, don't wash them in the waters of Yingchuan; if you have a mouth, don't eat ferns from Mount Shouyang.Hide your brilliance and live among others without seeking a name; why be as proudly alone as the clouds and moon?I see that since ancient times, talented people who did not retire after success have all been killed.Zixu was cast aside beside the Wu River, and Qu Yuan finally threw himself into the Xiang River.Could Lu Ji's great talent protect him? Li Si waited too long to leave office.Could one still hear the cranes of Huating? What was the point of his longing for the hawks of Shangcai?Don't you know that Zhang Han in Wu understood how to live, and suddenly thought of returning east when the autumn wind came?Enjoy a cup of wine while you're alive; why need a thousand years of fame after death?

Li Bai — Song of ChangganWhen my hair first fell across my forehead, I picked flowers and played by the door.You came riding a bamboo horse and played with green plums around my seat.We both lived in Changgan Lane, two children with no doubts about each other.At fourteen I became your wife, too shy even to show my face.I lowered my head toward the dark wall and would not turn around, though you called a thousand times.At fifteen I began to smile openly and wished to share even dust and ashes with you.I always believed you would keep your word, firm as the man who held to a pillar; why would I have to climb a tower to watch for my husband?At sixteen you went far away, to the Yanyu rocks at Qutang Gorge.In the fifth month the rocks are too dangerous to touch; high above them the monkeys cry sadly.Your slow footsteps in front of the door have each grown green moss.The moss is so deep I cannot sweep it away; the autumn wind brings falling leaves early.In the eighth month butterflies come, flying in pairs over the grass in the western garden.Seeing them hurts my heart; sitting alone in sorrow, I feel my young face aging.When you come down through the Three Ba districts, send a letter home beforehand.I will come to meet you however far it is, even as far as Changfeng Sands.

Li Bai — The Road to Shu Is HardOh! How dangerous, how high it is!The road to Shu is harder than climbing into the sky!Cangcong and Yufu founded that kingdom so long ago that its beginnings are obscure.For forty-eight thousand years since then, no one traveled between it and the passes of Qin.To the west of Mount Taibai there was only a route for birds, leading across the top of Mount Emei.The earth collapsed and mountains fell, killing the strong men; only then were steps up to the sky and plank paths joined along the cliffs.Above are peaks so high that the six dragons pulling the sun must turn back;Below are torrents that crash and twist back on themselves.Even a yellow crane could not fly across; monkeys would struggle to climb over.How winding is the path at Qingni! In a hundred paces it turns nine times around the cliffs.Reach up to the stars Shen and Jing, hold your breath, press your hand to your chest and sigh for a long time.I ask you, traveling west, when will you return? The steep rocks on this fearful road cannot be climbed.All you see are sad birds calling among ancient trees, males flying with females around the woods.And you hear the cuckoo crying to the moon at night, grieving in the empty mountains.The road to Shu is harder than climbing into the sky;Hearing about it makes a person's face grow pale!Linked peaks stand less than a foot from the sky; dry pines hang upside down against the sheer cliffs.Rapids and waterfalls crash and roar, striking the cliffs and rolling rocks through ten thousand valleys with the sound of thunder.If it is this dangerous, why have you come here from so far away?The Sword Gate rises steep and high: one man guarding the pass could keep ten thousand men from opening it.If its guard is not someone loyal to you, he may become a wolf or a jackal.In the morning you avoid fierce tigers; at night, long snakes.They grind their teeth and suck blood, killing people in great numbers.Though Brocade City is said to be pleasant, you had better go home early.The road to Shu is harder than climbing into the sky;I turn to look west and cannot stop sighing!

Li Bai — Midnight Song of Wu: SpringThe girl Luofu from Qin gathers mulberry leaves by the green water.Her pale hands are among the green branches; her red makeup shines in daylight.The silkworms are hungry and I must go; you with the five-horse carriage, don't keep me here.

Li Bai — Midnight Song of Wu: SummerMirror Lake stretches three hundred miles; lotus flowers open from their buds.In the fifth month Xi Shi gathers them, and onlookers crowd Ruoye Creek.She turns her boat around before moonrise and goes home to the king of Yue.

Li Bai — Midnight Song of Wu: AutumnA single moon shines over Chang'an; in ten thousand homes people beat cloth for clothes.The autumn wind keeps blowing; everyone's thoughts are with those at the Jade Pass.When will the northern enemy be defeated, so my husband can stop fighting far from home?

Li Bai — Midnight Song of Wu: WinterThe courier leaves tomorrow morning, so I stuff my husband's military coat all night.My bare hands are cold pulling the needle; how can they bear holding the scissors?I cut and sew his clothes to send far away. How many days will they take to reach Lintao?

Li Bai — The Moon over the PassThe bright moon rises from the Tianshan Mountains, among a vast sea of clouds.A strong wind blows across tens of thousands of miles and through the Jade Pass.Han soldiers went down the road to Baideng, while northern horsemen watched Qinghai Bay.This has always been a place of fighting; no one is seen returning.The men guarding the frontier look across it, their faces full of pain as they think of home.Tonight in the high tower, those waiting for them must be sighing without rest.

Li Yi — Song of the SouthI married a merchant from Qutang; each morning he fails to return when he promised.If I had known the tides keep their word, I would have married a man who rides them.

Li Qi — An Old Song of Army LifeIn daylight I climb a hill to look for beacon fires; at dusk I water my horse beside the Jiao River.The travelers' watch drums sound through dark wind and sand; the princess's lute plays songs full of grief.Wild clouds stretch ten thousand miles without a town; rain and snow fall over the vast desert.Northern geese fly crying sadly each night; northern children shed tears from both eyes.I hear the Jade Pass is still shut to us; soldiers will have to risk their lives following the light chariots.Year after year soldiers' bones are buried in the wilderness; all that comes back to the Han lands is grapes.

Du Fu — Song of the War WagonsWagons rattle, horses whinny, and each soldier wears a bow and arrows at his waist.Fathers, mothers, wives and children run to see them off; dust hides Xianyang Bridge.They pull at clothes and stamp their feet, blocking the road as they cry; their cries rise straight into the clouds.Someone passing asks the soldiers; they say only that men are called up again and again.Some went north to guard the river at fifteen, then at forty were sent west to work military farms.When they left, the village headmen tied their headcloths for them; they came back white-haired and were sent to guard the frontier again.Blood on the frontier has become a sea, but the emperor still wants to expand the borders.Haven't you heard that in the two hundred districts east of the mountains under Han rule, wild bushes grow in thousands of villages?Even when strong women take up hoes and plows, the crops grow in disorder across the fields.And the troops of Qin, who can endure hard fighting, are driven about no differently from dogs and chickens.“Though you ask me, sir, how would a conscript dare tell you his grievances?Look at this winter: soldiers posted west of the passes have still not been released.District officials demand rent urgently; where can we get the taxes?It's truly bad to bear sons; it turns out better to bear daughters.A daughter can at least marry a neighbor; a son is buried under wild grass.Don't you see by Qinghai Lake? No one has gathered the bones left there for ages.New ghosts are angry, old ghosts cry; on dark and rainy days their voices wail.”

Du Fu — Song of the Beautiful WomenThe air is fresh on the third day of the third month; many beautiful women are beside the water in Chang'an.Their bearing is rich, their manner distant, kind and sincere; their skin is smooth and their bodies well formed.Embroidered silk clothes shine in late spring, with peacocks stitched in gold and qilin in silver.What is on their heads? Green jeweled ornaments hang by their temples.What can be seen behind them? Pearls weigh down the backs of their dresses, fitting their bodies perfectly.Among them, behind cloudlike canopies, are the emperor's close relatives, given the titles of the Ladies of Guo and Qin.Camel humps from purple camels come out of green cooking pots; plates of crystal carry sliced white fish.Their rhinoceros-horn chopsticks rest untouched, though the food is rich; fine knives keep cutting food in vain.Palace eunuchs race over without stirring dust; imperial cooks follow one another with eight delicacies.Flutes and drums play moving tunes; important guests crowd the main road.How slowly the later rider approaches! He dismounts by the porch and walks onto the brocade carpet.Willow fluff falls like snow over white water plants; a blue bird flies away carrying a red handkerchief.His power is so great that no one can stand close to him; be careful not to approach, or the chief minister will be angry.

Du Fu — Lament by the RiverThe old man of Shaoling stifles his cries as he walks secretly by the bends of Qu River in spring.The palaces along the river have a thousand locked doors; for whom are the slender willows and new reeds green?I remember when banners colored like rainbows came down to the southern gardens, and everything there seemed bright.The foremost woman of Zhaoyang Palace rode beside the ruler, serving at his side.The ladies before the carriage carried bows and arrows; white horses chewed their golden bridles.One turned around and shot an arrow up into the clouds; it struck a pair of birds in flight.Where now is that woman with bright eyes and white teeth? Her blood stains the ground, and her wandering spirit cannot come home.The clear Wei flows east and Sword Gate lies deep in the west; between those who went and those who stayed there is no news.People have feelings and tears soak their chests; can the river water and flowers ever end?At dusk northern riders fill the city with dust; I try to go south but forget which way is north.

Du Fu — Lament for a Royal GrandsonOn the wall of Chang'an, a white-headed crow flies at night and calls above Yanqiu Gate.It pecks again at the great roofs of people's houses; beneath them high officials run to escape the northern enemy.The golden whip has broken and all nine horses are dead; his own family could not wait to flee together.At his waist hangs a fine jade pendant and green coral; the poor young prince cries by the roadside.When I ask, he will not give his name; he only says he is suffering and asks to become a servant.For a hundred days he has hidden among thorns; there is no patch of his skin left unhurt.The high emperor's descendants all have high noses; those of royal blood look different from ordinary people.The jackals are in the city and the dragon is in the wild; prince, take care of your precious life.I do not dare talk for long at this busy intersection, so I stand with him only a little while.Last night an east wind brought the smell of blood; camels came from the east and filled the old capital.The strong men of the northern army are skilled; why were they brave and clever once, but so foolish now?I have heard in secret that the emperor has handed over the throne, and his son's great virtue has won over even the northern chieftain.The Huamen people cut their faces and ask to avenge the wrong; take care not to speak of it, or others may spy on you.Poor prince, be careful and do not lose hope; the good fortune of the five imperial tombs never runs out.

Du Qiuniang — Gold-Threaded RobeI urge you not to prize a robe embroidered with gold;I urge you to prize the days when you are young.When a flower blooms and can be picked, pick it right away;Don't wait till there are no flowers and pick an empty branch.

Shen Quanqi — Alone and UnseenA young wife of the Lu family lives in a saffron-scented room; two sea swallows nest on the tortoiseshell beams.In the ninth month cold cloth-beating hurries the falling leaves; for ten years her husband has served far away at Liaoyang.Beyond the White Wolf River letters have stopped; south of the capital, autumn nights are long.Who cares for her sorrow as she lives unseen and alone? The bright moon shines on her yellow silk cloth.

Meng Jiao — Song of a Faithful WomanPlane trees grow old together; mandarin ducks will die together.A faithful wife values dying with her husband and gives her life for that reason.I swear no waves will ever rise: my heart is water in an ancient well.

Meng Jiao — A Traveler's SongA loving mother holds thread in her hand; the clothes will go on her traveling son's body.Before he leaves, she makes stitch after close stitch, afraid he will be slow to come back.How can a small blade of grass repay the warm sunlight of all three spring months?

Gao Shi — Song of YanIn the twenty-sixth year of the Kaiyuan era, a man who had accompanied Censor Zhang beyond the frontier returned and showed me a “Song of Yan” he had written. Moved by the affairs of the frontier troops, I wrote this in response.Smoke and dust rise in the northeast of Han territory; a Han general leaves home to defeat the remaining rebels.Men are naturally proud of sweeping the enemy aside, and the emperor gives them exceptional favor.Striking gongs and beating drums, they go down through Yu Pass; banners wind through the country around Jieshi.The commander's urgent letter flies across the vast desert; the northern chief's hunting fires light up Wolf Mountain.Mountains and rivers stand bleak at the very edge of the frontier; northern horsemen attack with the force of wind and rain.Half the soldiers at the front are killed or wounded, while beautiful women still sing and dance in the commander's tent.At the end of autumn in the great desert, frontier grass withers; in the lone city at sunset, few fighting soldiers remain.The commander, trusting in imperial favor, keeps underestimating the enemy; the troops are exhausted and the siege among the mountains is not lifted.Men in armor have spent a long, hard time guarding the distant frontier; those left behind must have cried like lines of jade since their parting.A young wife south of the city is heartbroken; her soldier north of Jizhou looks back in vain.The frontier land stretches out endlessly: how could one cross it? In that distant country, what is there at all?The threat of battle fills the sky with dark clouds by day; at night the watchman's rattle carries a cold sound.They look at each other amid flashing swords and flowing blood; when they die for duty, they do not think of rewards.Don't you know the hardships of fighting on a battlefield? Even now we remember General Li.

Cui Hao — Song of Changgan, First Poem“Where do you live? I live in Hengtang.I stopped my boat to ask you, thinking perhaps we're from the same hometown.”

Cui Hao — Song of Changgan, Second Poem“My home is by the waters of the Nine Rivers; I travel up and down beside them.We are both from Changgan, but we didn't know each other as children.”

Lu Lun — Song below the Frontier, First PoemEagle feathers are fixed to the golden arrows;A swallow-tailed banner flies from its embroidered staff.The commander stands alone and issues a new order;A thousand camps answer with one shout.

Lu Lun — Song below the Frontier, Second PoemIn the dark woods, wind startles the grass;The general draws his bow at night.At dawn he looks for his white-feathered arrowAnd finds it sunk deep in a rock.

Lu Lun — Song below the Frontier, Third PoemUnder a dark moon geese fly high; the northern ruler flees at night.We prepare to follow with light cavalry, but heavy snow covers our bows and swords.

Lu Lun — Song below the Frontier, Fourth PoemTents on the plain cover a beautiful feast;The Qiang and Rong come to celebrate the victorious return.Drunk, they dance in their gold armor;The drums roar and shake hills and rivers.