Five-Character Regulated Verse

Wang Bo — Seeing Du Shaofu Off to His Post in ShuzhouThe city walls stand guarded by the lands of the Three Qin; through mist and wind we gaze toward the Five Ferries.At parting, you and I share the same feeling, both travelers in the service of the state.When a true friend lives within the four seas, the farthest horizon is as close as one's neighbor.At this crossroads let us not weep into our scarves like children.

Wang Wei — Sending Governor Li to ZizhouTrees touch the sky in ten thousand ravines; cuckoos echo across a thousand mountains.After a night of rain among the hills, a hundred streams hang from the treetops.Han women bring their cotton cloth in tribute; Ba men dispute the fields where taro grows.Teach the people afresh, like Wen Weng; do not rest on a wise man's achievements before you.

Wang Wei — Looking Out over the Han RiverThe Chu frontier joins the Three Xiang rivers; at Jingmen the nine channels meet.The river flows beyond earth and sky; the mountains flicker between presence and absence.Cities and towns seem afloat upon the banks; waves set the distant sky in motion.Fine breezes and sunlight bless Xiangyang; I would stay and drink with the old man of the hills.

Wang Wei — My Retreat at Mount ZhongnanIn middle age I came to love the Way; in later years I settled beside the southern mountain.Whenever the mood takes me I go alone, savoring sights known to me alone.I walk to the place where the water ends and sit to watch the clouds rise.Sometimes I meet an old man of the woods and talk and laugh, forgetting the time to return.

Wang Wei — Mount ZhongnanMount Taiyi rises close to heaven's capital; its range extends to the sea's edge.Looking back, white clouds gather; walking into the blue haze, I find it gone.The lands change at the mountain's central peak; sun and shade differ in each valley.Seeking a house where I might spend the night, I ask a woodcutter across the stream.

Wang Wei — In Reply to Deputy Prefect ZhangIn old age all I love is quiet; the world's affairs no longer concern my heart.I know I have no far-reaching plans, and think only of returning to the woods I knew.Pine winds stir as I loosen my sash; mountain moonlight shines as I play the zither.You ask the secret of failure and success: a fisherman's song enters the deep inlet.

Wang Wei — Visiting the Temple of Accumulated FragranceNot knowing where the temple lies, I walk for miles into clouded peaks.Ancient trees line a path with no travelers; somewhere in the deep hills a bell sounds.A spring chokes over steep stones; sunlight grows cold among green pines.At dusk, beside a bend in the empty pool, meditation stills the poisonous dragon.

Wang Wei — At Ease by the Wang River, for Scholar Pei DiCold mountains turn a deeper green; autumn waters murmur day by day.Leaning on my staff outside the brushwood gate, I listen to evening cicadas in the wind.The last sunlight stays upon the ferry; one column of smoke rises from the village.Here comes another drunken Jieyu, singing wildly before the Five Willows.

Wang Wei — Autumn Evening in the MountainsAfter fresh rain on the empty mountain, the evening air has turned to autumn.Bright moonlight falls among the pines; a clear spring flows over stones.Bamboo rustles as washerwomen return; lotus leaves stir beneath a fishing boat.Let the flowers of spring fade as they will: a prince can find his home here.

Wang Wei — Returning to Mount SongA clear stream skirts a long thicket; horse and carriage make their leisurely way.The running water seems to have a purpose; evening birds return together.A deserted town overlooks an ancient ferry; sunset fills the autumn hills.Far beneath lofty Mount Song, I return and close my gate.

Wang Wan — Mooring below Mount BeiguMy traveling road runs beyond the green hills; my boat journeys before the green water.The tide is level, the banks spread wide; a fair wind holds up a single sail.The sun rises from the sea while night still lingers; spring comes to the river before the year has ended.Where can my letter home find its way? With the returning geese to Luoyang.

Sikong Shu — Parting after a Night with Han Shen at Yunyang InnOld friend, when we parted amid rivers and seas, how many times mountains and waters lay between us!Seeing you suddenly, I almost think I dream; grieving together, we ask how old each has grown.A lone lamp lights the cold rain; smoke drifts dimly through deep bamboo.Tomorrow's parting brings fresh pain; we share this farewell cup with reluctance.

Sikong Shu — Glad That My Cousin Lu Lun Came to StayNo neighbors stir on this still night; poverty has left my ancestral home desolate.Yellow leaves on trees in the rain; a white-haired man beneath the lamp.Ashamed that I have lived alone so long, I am grateful that you come to see me often.We have always been bound by friendship, and besides, we are kin through the Cai family.

Sikong Shu — Sending Someone North after the Rebels Were DefeatedIn the chaos we went south together; in the peace you alone return north.In strange lands your hair has turned white; in your native country you will see green hills.At dawn the moon hangs over ruined ramparts; by starlight you will sleep at the old pass.Cold birds and withered grass will everywhere accompany your sorrowing face.

Bai Juyi — Grass on the Ancient Plain, at PartingThe grass grows thick upon the plain, withering and flourishing once each year.Wildfires cannot burn it all away; spring winds blow and it rises once again.Its far-off fragrance invades the old road; sunlit green reaches the deserted town.Once more I see a dear friend go; its lush growth fills me with sorrow at parting.

Song Zhiwen — At the Post Station North of Dayu RidgeIn the eleventh month geese fly south, but I hear they turn back here.My journey is far from over; what day shall I return?The river is still as the tide begins to fall; the darkened woods hold fast their feverish mist.Tomorrow, looking toward home, I shall see plum blossoms above the ridge.

Cen Shen — Sent to Du, Reminder in the Left SecretariatTogether we ascend the vermilion stairs, then take our posts on opposite sides of the palace.At dawn we follow the royal guard inside; at evening we return scented with imperial incense.My white hair grieves as flowers fall; I envy the birds flying through blue sky.In this sacred reign nothing calls for correction; I find my memorials of advice are few.

Li Bai — Hearing the Shu Monk Jun Play the ZitherA monk from Shu carries his green silk zither down from Mount Emei in the west.He plays a passage for me: I hear pines in ten thousand valleys.His flowing notes cleanse a traveler's heart; their echoes mingle with the evening temple bell.I do not notice dusk falling on the green mountain, autumn clouds darkening fold upon fold.

Li Bai — Moored at Night at Niuzhu, Thinking of the PastNight falls on the western river at Niuzhu; not a shred of cloud marks the blue sky.I board the boat to gaze at the autumn moon, vainly remembering General Xie.I too can sing fine verses, but there is no one like him to hear me.Tomorrow I will hoist my sail, while maple leaves fall thick around me.

Li Bai — To Meng HaoranI love Master Meng, whose graceful spirit is famed throughout the world.In his rosy youth he cast aside cap and carriage; white-haired, he rests among pines and clouds.Drunk beneath the moon, he often reaches the sage's state; enchanted by flowers, he does not serve a king.How could I gaze up at such a lofty mountain? I can only breathe its clear fragrance.

Li Bai — Crossing Jingmen, a FarewellFar beyond Jingmen I cross the river, coming to roam the lands of Chu.The mountains end at a level plain; the river enters the vast wilderness.The moon descends, a flying mirror in the sky; clouds gather into towers above the sea.I still love the waters of home, which send my boat ten thousand miles on its way.

Li Bai — Seeing a Friend OffGreen mountains span the northern walls; white water circles the city to the east.Here we part, and you drift a thousand miles, a lone tumbleweed.Wandering clouds hold the traveler's thoughts; the setting sun holds an old friend's feeling.We wave and go our separate ways; our parting horses neigh.

Li Yi — Glad to See My Cousin, Then Saying Farewell AgainAfter ten years of turmoil and separation, we meet at last, both grown.Asked your surname, I am startled to see you; hearing your name, I remember the face of long ago.We speak of all that has happened since parting, until the evening bell sounds beneath the sky.Tomorrow you take the Baling road; how many folds of autumn hills will lie between us again?

Li Shangyin — Thoughts on a Cold DayThe guest has gone; waves lie level with the balustrade, cicadas fall silent, and dew fills the branches.In this season my thoughts run on forever; I lean against the railing as the hours slip by.The Northern Dipper is far away, and spring farther; my messenger to Nanling has long been delayed.At the world's edge I cast dream lots again and again, fearing some new love has led you astray.

Li Shangyin — North of Green VinesThe last sun sinks west behind the hills; I seek the lone monk's thatched hut.Among fallen leaves, where has he gone? How many clouded ridges cross this cold road?Alone he strikes the evening bell; at ease he leans on a single vine staff.The world is but a mote of dust: why should I love it or hate it?

Li Shangyin — The CicadaBecause it dwells so high, it cannot eat its fill; in vain it pours out its plaintive song.Near dawn its faint calls almost cease; one green tree stands unmoved.In my poor official post I drift like a stem on water; my old garden lies choked with weeds.Your cry warns me above all: my whole family too lives pure and poor.

Li Shangyin — Wind and RainA bleak song of the precious sword; drifting abroad, I may spend my whole life so.Yellow leaves endure the wind and rain; in pleasure towers flutes and strings play on.New friends fall victim to a shallow world; old attachments are barred by cruel chance.Xinfeng's wine breaks my heart; how many thousand coins must I spend to dispel this grief?

Li Shangyin — Fallen FlowersThe guest has finally left the high pavilion; flowers scatter through the small garden.They drift unevenly along the winding path, far off toward the slanting light.Heartbroken, I cannot bear to sweep them up; straining my eyes, I still hope they might return.Their fragrant hearts go out with spring; all they gain is to wet my clothes with tears.

Du Fu — Climbing Yueyang TowerLong ago I heard of Dongting Lake; today at last I climb Yueyang Tower.It divides Wu from Chu, east from south; within its waters heaven and earth float day and night.Not a word from kin or friends; old and ill, I have only a solitary boat.North of the mountain passes, horses are at war; leaning on the railing, my tears flow.

Du Fu — Another Farewell to Lord Yan at Fengji Post StationSeeing you far on your way, here we part; the green hills can only hold my feelings in vain.When will we lift a cup together again? Only last night the moon traveled beside us.The prefectures all sing your praises and mourn your departure; three reigns have honored you at court.Alone I return to my riverside village, where in solitude I will nurture what remains of my life.

Du Fu — Parting at Grand Marshal Fang's GraveI must travel again in a strange land; I stop my horse to bid farewell to your solitary grave.Recent tears have left no earth dry; broken clouds hang low in the sky.I played chess with you as with Lord Xie; bearing a sword, I seek you as Xu's lord was sought.Now I see only woodland flowers fall, and hear orioles sing the traveler away.

Du Fu — Writing My Thoughts on a Night JourneyFine grass stirs in a light wind on the bank; a tall mast stands over my lone boat at night.Stars hang low above the vast level plain; the moon surges with the great river's flow.Could my name have risen through writing? Old age and illness must be why I left office.Adrift, what do I resemble? One sea gull between heaven and earth.

Du Fu — Passing Again through the Golden Light GateBy this road I once escaped to loyal lines;In the western suburbs enemy soldiers swarmed.Even now the memory strikes terror in my heart;Surely my wandering soul has not been called back.Once an imperial attendant, I return to the capital;Was my transfer to another post the sovereign's wish?Without talent, growing older every day,I stop my horse and gaze toward the palace's thousand gates.

Du Fu — Remembering My Younger Brothers on a Moonlit NightGarrison drums cut off the roads; in autumn at the frontier a lone goose cries.Dew turns white from tonight onward; the moon is brightest over home.My brothers are all scattered; we have no home where I can ask if they live.Letters I send never arrive, and the armies have not ceased fighting.

Du Fu — Thinking of Li Bai at the End of the SkyA cool wind rises at the sky's far edge; how fares a man as noble as you?When will a wild goose bring your message? Autumn waters swell the rivers and lakes.Fate resents those whose writing flourishes; monsters rejoice when travelers pass their way.You must speak with the wronged spirit and cast a poem into the Miluo River.

Du Fu — Moonlit NightTonight the moon shines over Fuzhou; alone in our room, you gaze at it.Far away I pity our little children, who cannot yet know why you remember Chang'an.Fragrant mist dampens your cloudlike hair; pure light chills your jade-white arms.When will we lean together by the open curtains, both lit by moonlight until our tears run dry?

Du Fu — Spring ViewThe country lies broken, but hills and rivers remain; spring has come to the city, and grass and trees grow deep.Grieving for the times, I weep among the flowers; pained by parting, I start at the birds.Beacon fires have burned three months in succession; a letter from home would be worth ten thousand pieces of gold.I scratch my white head, and the hair grows thinner still, nearly too sparse to hold a pin.

Du Fu — Spending a Spring Night at the Left SecretariatFlowers fade into the palace walls at dusk; roosting birds fly past with little cries.Stars tremble above ten thousand doors; the moon shines more brightly beside the high heavens.Sleepless, I listen for the golden keys and imagine the jade pendants in the wind.Tomorrow I must present a memorial; again and again I ask how much of the night remains.

Du Mu — Spending the Night at an InnAt the travelers' inn I have no dear companion; my thoughts gather in silence.The cold lamp makes me remember old days; a lone goose cries and startles me from sorrowing sleep.A distant dream brings me home toward dawn; letters from home arrive a year late.Mist and moonlight are lovely on the Xiang River; fishing boats lie moored outside our gate.

Du Xunhe — A Palace Woman's Spring LamentLong ago my beauty led me astray;I am too weary to dress before the mirror.Imperial favor does not depend on looks:How then shall I adorn myself?In the warm wind birdsong scatters;In the high sun flower shadows deepen.Each year I remember the girls of YuePicking lotus flowers in the creek.

Du Shenyan — Responding to Lu the Magistrate's Early Spring View at JinlingOnly a man who serves far from homeIs so startled by new signs of the season.At dawn clouds glow above the sea;Across the river plum and willow bring spring.Warm air urges yellow orioles to sing;Clear sunlight turns the water plants green.Suddenly I hear your song in an ancient mode,And longing for home would wet my robe.

Shen Quanqi — Miscellaneous PoemI hear that troops have been fighting year after year at Yellow Dragon Fort.How pitiable the moon in my chamber: it shines constantly over the Han army's camp.A young wife's thoughts turn to spring; her husband's thoughts last night were of home.Who will lead the drums and banners and take Dragon City once and for all?

Meng Haoran — Spending the Night on the Tonglu River, Sent to Old Friends in GuanglingDarkening hills, and the gibbons' grieving cries; the blue river runs swift at night.Wind makes the leaves sing on either shore; moonlight falls on a single boat.Jiande is no homeland of mine; I remember old friends in Weiyang.I send these two lines of tears far away toward the western shore of the sea.

Meng Haoran — Leaving Wang WeiHow long must this loneliness endure? Each morning I go home empty-handed.I would seek the fragrant grass elsewhere, but cannot bear to part from my old friend.Who among those in power will lend me help? Few in this world understand my heart.So I will embrace solitude, return and close the door of my old garden.

Meng Haoran — Thoughts in the First Cold DaysLeaves fall, geese cross southward; north wind chills the river.My home lies by a bend of the Xiang River, far beyond Chu's clouded horizon.My tears for home are spent in a strange land; I watch a lonely sail on the sky's edge.I wish to ask which ford leads there, but dusk floods the wide level waters.

Meng Haoran — Returning to the Southern Mountain at Year's EndI will send no more petitions to the northern palace; I return to my poor hut by the southern mountain.A wise ruler has rejected my lack of talent; illness has driven old friends away.White hair urges me into age; the green breath of spring drives out the old year.Longing and sorrow keep me awake; moonlight among the pines falls on my empty window.

Meng Haoran — Visiting an Old Friend's FarmMy old friend prepared chicken and millet and invited me to his farm.Green trees enclose the village; blue mountains slant beyond its walls.We open the feast facing threshing ground and garden, raise wine and talk of mulberries and hemp.When the Double Ninth comes, I will return to sit among the chrysanthemums.

Meng Haoran — Autumn Thoughts in Qin, Sent to the Monk YuanI have always longed to lie on a quiet hill, but lack the means to keep three paths at home.This northern land is not my wish; I think of my teacher in the eastern woods.My gold is spent as though it burned like precious cassia; my high ambitions fade with each passing year.At dusk a cool wind comes; hearing cicadas only deepens my sorrow.

Meng Haoran — At Dongting Lake, Presented to Chancellor ZhangIn the eighth month the lake's waters lie level, holding the empty sky and blending with the great blue.Mist rises over Yunmeng Marsh; waves shake the walls of Yueyang.I wish to cross but have no boat or oars; to sit idle under a wise reign shames me.Watching the fishermen cast their lines, I have only the longing to catch fish myself.

Meng Haoran — Climbing Mount Xian with FriendsHuman affairs rise and pass away; comings and goings become the ancient and the present.The rivers and mountains keep their glorious traces; we too climb here today.Water recedes, and Fish Weir grows shallow; the air turns cold, and Yunmeng Marsh deepens.The stele to Lord Yang is standing still; when I have read it, tears wet my robe.

Meng Haoran — Banquet at Daoist Mei's Mountain HouseResting in the woods, I grieve to see spring end; I open the window to gaze on the world's beauty.Suddenly a bluebird messenger arrives, inviting me into Red Pine's home.The alchemical stove has just been lit; flowers fall from the immortal peach trees.If a youthful face could last, why spare the wine of rosy clouds?

Wei Zhuang — Night Thoughts at ZhangtaiThe clear zither laments through the long night; wind and rain mourn around its strings.Beneath a lonely lamp I hear a Chu horn; the fading moon sinks behind Zhangtai.The fragrant grass has reached its late season; my old friend is still nowhere near.I cannot send a letter home: the autumn geese are turning south again.

Wei Yingwu — Joyfully Meeting an Old Friend from Liangchuan on the HuaiWe were once guests along the Yangzi and Han; each meeting ended with us drunk on the way home.Drifting clouds parted us; ten years flowed by like water.We laugh with all our former warmth, but our hair has thinned and turned gray.Why not go home to the north? Here beside the Huai we face the autumn mountains.

Wei Yingwu — Evening Rain, Sending Li Zhou AwayIn fine rain on the Chu River, evening bells sound in Jianye.Out of the vast haze sails come heavy-laden; into the dark sky birds fly slowly.The mouth of the sea lies hidden in the depths; far riverside trees gleam with moisture.There is no end to my feeling as I see you off; it wets my collar like scattering threads of rain.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang — Sacrificing to Confucius at Zou and Lu, with a SighWhat was the Master seeking,So restless throughout his age?The land remains the township of Zou;His dwelling stands as a palace of the king of Lu.He mourned the phoenix, grieving his own poor fortune;He wept for the unicorn, lamenting the failure of his Way.Seeing the offerings now between the two pillars,I think of what he saw in his dream.

Ma Dai — Living on the Ba Plain in AutumnWind and rain cease on the Ba Plain; at dusk line after line of geese appear.Leaves fall from foreign trees; a cold lamp lights a man alone at night.White dew drips in the empty garden; a hermit monk lives beyond the lonely wall.Long have I lain at a suburban gate; in what year can I offer myself to the world?

Ma Dai — Remembering the Past beside the Chu RiverCold dew gathers a chilly light; a faint sun sinks behind the Chu hills.Gibbons cry among the trees of Dongting; I sit in a magnolia boat.The bright moon rises above the broad marsh; dark mountains hem in the troubled current.The Lord of the Clouds is nowhere to be seen; all evening I mourn the autumn alone.

Cui Tu — Thoughts on New Year's EveThe road to the Three Ba stretches endlessly; far from home, I travel ten thousand precarious miles.At night amid tangled mountains and lingering snow, I face the strange land's spring alone.I grow farther from my own flesh and blood, closer by degrees to my servants.How can I bear to be adrift when tomorrow a new year begins?

Cui Tu — A Lone GooseThe homeward rows have all passed the frontier; where will this solitary shape go?In evening rain its calls go unanswered; it hesitates to descend on the cold pond.Low clouds darken the islet it crosses; the moon above the pass follows it coldly.Though no arrow need strike it, how can it help fearing to fly alone?

Chang Jian — Inscribed at the Meditation Hall behind Broken Mountain TempleEarly morning: I enter the old temple as the first sunlight shines among tall trees.A winding path leads into seclusion; flowers and trees grow deep around the meditation hall.Mountain light delights the birds; a pool's reflection empties the human heart.All the sounds of the world fall silent here; only the temple bell can be heard.

Zhang Jiuling — Gazing at the Moon, Thinking of Someone Far AwayAbove the sea a bright moon rises; at the ends of the earth we share this hour.Those who love lament the long night; until dawn they are lost in longing.I put out my candle to cherish its full light, throw on a robe and feel the dew grow thick.I cannot gather moonlight in my hands to send you; I return to sleep and dream of our meeting.

Zhang Qiao — Writing of Frontier AffairsThe watch horn's tuned notes break the clear autumn air; a soldier leans upon the garrison tower.Spring wind blows before the Green Mound; the white sun sets above Liangzhou.No army blocks the great desert; travelers can roam the farthest border.May the frontier people's hearts, like these waters, flow forever southward.

Zhang Ji — An Old Friend Lost among the NomadsThe year before last, when we marched against the Yuezhi, the whole army was lost upon the walls.All news between nomad and Han has ceased; in life or death we remain apart.No one gathers the abandoned tents; returning horses recognize tattered banners.I would offer you rites, yet wonder if you live; at this hour I weep for you at the world's far edge.

Xu Hun — Inscribed on Tong Pass Inn Tower on an Autumn Journey to CourtRed leaves rustle in the late day; at the wayside pavilion I drink a gourd of wine.The last clouds return to Mount Hua; scattered showers cross the Zhongtiao Mountains.Colors of trees recede among distant hills; the river's voice journeys far toward the sea.Tomorrow I reach the emperor's home, but still I dream of fishing and gathering wood.

Xu Hun — Early AutumnA clear zither sounds through the long night; west wind rises among green vines.The last fireflies settle on jewel-like dew; early geese graze the silver Milky Way.At dawn the tall trees are still dense; in clear light the distant hills seem to multiply.One leaf falls south of the Huai, and already I sense the waves of Dongting.

Wen Tingyun — Seeing a Friend Off on His Eastern JourneyYellow leaves fall about the ruined garrison; resolutely you leave the old pass.Strong wind blows at the Hanyang ferry; first sunlight touches the hills by Ying Gate.How many friends remain beside the river? Your lonely oar returns from the world's edge.When will we meet again, and soothe our parting faces over wine?

Monk Jiaoran — Seeking Lu Hongjian, but Not Finding HimHe moved his home nearer the town, yet a country path winds in through mulberry and hemp.Only lately has he planted chrysanthemums by the fence; autumn has come, and they have not yet flowered.I knock: not even a dog barks. As I turn to go, I ask at the house to the west.They say he has gone into the hills; each day he returns when the sun is low.

Liu Changqing — Seeking the Daoist Chang by the Southern CreekAll along the road I follow, footprints show in moss and berries.White clouds linger above a still islet; spring grass closes around an idle gate.After the rain I gaze at the pines' color; following the hills, I reach the source of the stream.Stream flowers and the spirit of meditation face each other beyond all words.

Liu Changqing — On the New YearIn the new year homesickness cuts deep; at the world's edge I shed tears alone.Old age has brought me beneath other men; spring returns before its wandering guest.Morning and evening gibbons cry along the ridges; riverside willows mingle with wind and mist.I am already like the tutor exiled to Changsha: how many more years from now?

Liu Changqing — An Autumn View from the Temple on Lord Wu's TerraceAs leaves fall around the ancient terrace, I look toward home on an autumn day.Few people come to the wild temple; clouded peaks rise beyond deep waters.The setting sun rests on old fortifications; a cold bell fills the empty woods.I grieve for the affairs of the southern dynasties; only the Yangzi survives to this day.

Liu Changqing — Sending Commander Li Home to His Hanyang EstateDisplaced commander of the southern armies, you once led a hundred thousand men.Dismissed, you go home without your former estate; aging, you still cherish this enlightened age.You stood alone and brought peace to three frontiers; only your sword knows how lightly you held your life.Above the boundless Yangzi and Han, where will you go at dusk?

Liu Changqing — Seeing Wang Eleven Off on His Journey SouthI watch you across the wide misty water, wave my hand, and wet my scarf with tears.Where do the flying birds disappear? Green mountains face me in vain.One sail dwindles on the long river; spring sunlight sets over the Five Lakes.Who sees me here on the river islet, longing for you among the white water plants?

Liu Yuxi — Temple of the First Lord of ShuA hero's spirit fills heaven and earth; after a thousand autumns it still inspires awe.His strength divided the realm three ways; his rule restored the coinage of Han.With a worthy minister he could found a kingdom; his son was nothing like his father.How desolate: the former dancing girls of Shu came to perform before the palace of Wei.

Liu Shenxu — UntitledThe path disappears into white clouds; spring runs on beside the green creek.Now and then fallen flowers arrive, borne from afar by fragrant waters.An idle gate faces the mountain path; deep in willow shade stands a scholar's hall.Even at midday seclusion casts its shadows; clear light shines upon my clothes.

Lu Lun — Seeing Li Duan OffWithered grass covers the old pass; a farewell here is full of sadness.Your road leads beyond cold clouds; you return in the hour of evening snow.Orphaned young, I became a traveler early; amid so many troubles I came to know you late.I hide my tears and gaze toward you in vain; where among the world's turmoil shall we meet again?

Qian Qi — Sending a Monk Home to JapanYou came to this great land to live as conditions led you, the outward journey like a dream.The vast sea floats beneath the sky, far away; leaving the world behind, your boat of the teaching rides lightly.Moon in water opens the vision of meditation; fish and dragons listen to the sacred chant.I cherish only the light of one lamp, clear before my eyes across ten thousand miles.

Qian Qi — From My Study at the Valley Mouth, Sent to Assistant Censor YangSprings and ravines surround my thatched hut; clouds and rosy mists rise from the vine curtain.I love the bamboo after fresh rain, the mountain in evening sunlight.Idle egrets settle early as always; autumn flowers are slower still to fall.My servant sweeps the vine-grown path: yesterday I promised to meet an old friend.

Luo Binwang — Singing of the Cicada in Prison, with PrefaceThe western fields ring with cicadas;Exiled here, I am seized by memories of home.How can I bear its dark-winged silhouetteAs I sing with my hair turned white?Heavy dew keeps it from flying far;Strong winds drown out its song.No one believes in its high purity;Who will make my heart known?

Dai Shulun — An Unexpected Meeting with Old Friends from the River Country at an InnAutumn fills the sky, the moon is full again; a thousand layers of night surround the city.We gather here once more as in the south; I almost think I meet you in a dream.Branches in the wind startle crows in darkness; dew-drenched grass shelters cold insects.As travelers far from home we can keep drinking; I ask you to stay, for I dread the bell of dawn.

Han Hong — Reply to Cheng's Poem on an Autumn NightThe long bamboo mat catches the early wind; pale moonlight bathes the empty city.One goose crosses the autumn Milky Way; through the night a thousand houses sound with pounding blocks.The season seems late already; lying awake, my hopes still lie far off.I have been reciting your exquisite lines, and did not notice the crows had begun to cry.

Wang Bo — Seeing Prefect Du Off to His Post in ShuzhouThe city walls guard the three Qin districts; through wind and mist I look toward the five ferries.We both feel this parting, since both of us travel to serve as officials.As long as we have close friends in the world, the farthest places seem like neighbors.Don't stand at the crossroads crying into your handkerchief like children.

Wang Wei — Seeing Governor Li Off to ZizhouTrees rise to the sky in ten thousand valleys; cuckoos call through a thousand mountains.After one night's rain in the hills, hundreds of streams fall past the treetops.The Han women pay taxes in woven cloth; the people of Ba argue over taro fields.Like Wen Weng, teach the people anew; do not rely on the work of worthy officials before you.

Wang Wei — Looking Out over the Han RiverThe borders of Chu meet the three Xiang rivers; at Jingmen the nine streams join.The river flows beyond the ends of the earth; the mountains appear and disappear in the distance.The town seems to float on the water ahead; the waves seem to shake the distant sky.Xiangyang has such pleasant light and breezes that I'll stay and get drunk with the old man of the hills.

Wang Wei — My Retreat at Mount ZhongnanIn middle age I became fond of the Way; in later years I made my home beside the southern mountain.Whenever I feel like it, I go out alone, enjoying sights that only I know about.I walk to where the stream ends and sit watching the clouds rise.Sometimes I meet an old man in the woods, and we talk and laugh until I forget to go home.

Wang Wei — Mount ZhongnanMount Taiyi stands close to heaven's capital; its connected peaks reach to the edge of the sea.Looking back, I see white clouds gathering; walking into the blue mist, I find it has vanished.The lands divide at the central peak; sun and shade differ from valley to valley.Wanting to spend the night in someone's home, I ask a woodcutter across the stream.

Wang Wei — In Reply to Magistrate ZhangIn old age I care only for quiet; nothing else troubles me.I see that I have no great plans, and only know to return to my old woods.The wind in the pines blows as I loosen my belt; the mountain moon shines while I play the zither.You ask about success and failure; a fisherman's song disappears deep into the riverbank.

Wang Wei — Passing Fragrant Accumulation TempleI do not know where the temple is and go several miles into cloud-covered peaks.No one walks the paths among the ancient trees; where in these deep mountains is that bell ringing?A spring seems to choke on steep rocks; the sunlight feels cold on the green pines.At dusk beside the bend of an empty pool, meditation brings the poisonous dragon under control.

Wang Wei — At Ease in Wangchuan, for Pei DiThe cold mountains turn dark green; autumn waters murmur every day.I lean on a staff outside my brushwood gate, listening to evening cicadas in the wind.The last sunlight remains at the ferry; one plume of smoke rises from the village.Then I meet you, drunk like Jieyu, singing wildly outside my home among the five willows.

Wang Wei — Autumn Evening at My Mountain HomeAfter new rain on the empty mountain, the evening air feels like autumn.The bright moon shines through the pines; clear spring water runs over stones.Bamboo rustles as washing women return; lotuses move when a fishing boat passes through.Let the spring flowers fade as they will: a person can stay here.

Wang Wei — Returning to Mount SongClear water winds beside a long thicket; my carriage and horses move along without hurry.The running water seems to have a purpose; evening birds return together.A deserted town stands by the old ferry; the setting sun fills the autumn hills.Back under distant Mount Song, I shut my gate for now.

Wang Wan — Mooring below Mount BeiguMy road takes me beyond green hills; my boat sails ahead on green water.At high tide the banks lie far apart; a fair wind holds up my one sail.The sea sun rises while night is still ending; spring reaches the river before the old year is gone.Where can I send a letter home? With the geese flying back toward Luoyang.

Sikong Shu — Parting from Han Shen after a Night at Yunyang InnMy old friend and I parted by rivers and seas; how many times have mountains and waters separated us since then?At our sudden meeting I think I must be dreaming; saddened, we ask each other how many years have passed.A lone lamp shines coldly on the rain; smoke hangs darkly in deep bamboo.We will have the pain of parting again tomorrow, so we pass the farewell cup between us with regret.

Sikong Shu — Glad That My Cousin Lu Lun Has Come to StayAll is quiet on every side tonight; I live alone in my poor, run-down old house.Yellow leaves hang on trees in the rain; beneath a lamp sits a white-haired man.I've lived alone so long that I feel ashamed when you come to visit me often.We have always had a bond, and besides, we're relatives on my mother's side.

Sikong Shu — Seeing Someone Return North after the Rebels' DefeatWe fled south together during the troubles; now peace has come and you alone return north.You grew white-haired in a foreign land; back in your old country you'll see the green hills.You will pass ruined fortifications under the dawn moon and stay at an old pass beneath crowded stars.Cold birds and withered grass everywhere will keep your sad face company.

Bai Juyi — Grass on the Ancient Plain, Written for a FarewellThick grass grows on the old plain; every year it dies and grows again.Wildfires cannot burn it all away; the spring wind brings it back to life.Its distant scent reaches across the old road; green grass in the sunshine meets the deserted town.Once again I see a friend off; the thick grass fills me with sadness at our parting.

Song Zhiwen — Written at the North Station of Dayu RidgeIn the tenth month wild geese fly south, but I've heard they turn back here.My journey goes on beyond this point; when will I return?The river is still as the tide starts to fall; the woods are dark and the unhealthy mist does not lift.Tomorrow, when I look toward home, perhaps I'll see plum blossoms on the ridge.

Cen Shen — To Du, Court Adviser in the Left OfficeWe walk together to the red steps, then part ways to our separate offices at the palace.At dawn we enter with the emperor's guard; at dusk we come home with imperial incense on our clothes.White-haired, I grieve as flowers fall; I envy birds flying freely through the blue sky.The court of a wise ruler has nothing wrong with it, so I find that I write few letters of advice.

Li Bai — Hearing the Monk Jun from Shu Play the ZitherA monk from Shu carries his zither down from Mount Emei in the west.He plays a tune for me with a wave of his hand; it sounds like pines across ten thousand valleys.The flowing music washes clean my thoughts as a traveler; its last notes mingle with bells in the frost.Without noticing, I find that evening has come to the green mountains, and autumn clouds have darkened layer upon layer.

Li Bai — Mooring at Niuzhu at Night, Thinking of the PastTonight on the western river at Niuzhu, not a cloud crosses the blue sky.I climb aboard and look at the autumn moon, thinking in vain of General Xie.I too can recite fine verses, but there is no one like him here to hear them.Tomorrow I will hoist my sail as maple leaves fall all around.

Li Bai — For Meng HaoranI love Master Meng; the whole world knows his admirable way of life.In his youth he turned down office and rank; with white hair he lies among pines and clouds.Often he drinks under the moon; enchanted by flowers, he does not serve a ruler.How could I reach a person as high as a mountain? I can only enjoy the purity of his example.

Li Bai — Crossing Jingmen and Leaving Home BehindI crossed the river far beyond Jingmen to travel through the old land of Chu.Mountains end at the open plain; the river runs into the vast wilderness.The moon over the water looks like a mirror flying down from the sky; clouds gather like towers rising from the sea.I still love the waters of home: they have carried my boat on its journey for ten thousand miles.

Li Bai — Seeing a Friend OffGreen hills rise north of the town; a clear stream curves around its eastern wall.Here we part, and you travel ten thousand miles like a single weed blown away.Drifting clouds reflect the traveler's thoughts; the setting sun expresses the feelings of an old friend.We wave and leave each other; our horses whinny as they part.

Li Yi — Meeting My Cousin Again, Then Saying GoodbyeAfter ten years of war and separation, we meet now that we are grown.I ask your surname in surprise at first; then, when you give your name, I remember your face from long ago.We talk about all that has happened since we parted, until the bell sounds under the evening sky.Tomorrow you will take the Baling road, past one range of autumn mountains after another.

Li Shangyin — Sad ThoughtsThe guest leaves and waves lie still beside the railing; cicadas stop singing and dew covers the branches.At this time I think of you continually; leaning there, I don't notice the hours pass.The Big Dipper is distant, and spring is over; the messenger staying in Nanling is late.At the world's edge I keep reading signs in dreams, afraid that you have found a new friend and forgotten me.

Li Shangyin — North of Green VinesThe last sunlight sinks behind the western hills; I visit a monk who lives alone in a thatched hut.Amid fallen leaves, where is he? The road winds through several layers of cold clouds.Alone he strikes the bell at the start of night, then rests leaning against his cane.Within this world of tiny dust, why should I hold on to love or hate?

Li Shangyin — The CicadaLiving high up, it can barely find food; all its angry crying is in vain.At the fifth watch its call grows faint and nearly stops, while the green tree remains unmoved.With my lowly official post I drift like a broken twig; the fields of my old home have grown over.Thank you for reminding me so strongly: my family too has nothing to spare.

Li Shangyin — Wind and RainMy poem about a treasured sword is a sad one; I seem destined to wander all my life.Yellow leaves are still beaten by wind and rain, while music plays in fine houses.New friendships suffer from people's meanness; good fortune has kept me from old friends.My heart is broken. How many thousands will I pay for Xinfeng wine to ease my sorrow?

Li Shangyin — Falling FlowersThe guests have finally left the high pavilion; flowers fly wildly around the small garden.They scatter unevenly along the winding lane and follow the last sunlight into the distance.Heartbroken, I cannot bear to sweep them away; I keep watching for someone who might return.Their desire to bloom has run out with spring; all they have gained is tears on my clothes.

Du Fu — Climbing Yueyang TowerI had long heard of Dongting Lake; today I climb Yueyang Tower.The waters divide Wu and Chu to the southeast; heaven and earth seem to float on them day and night.Not a word comes from relatives or friends; old and ill, I have only one boat.North of the mountain passes war goes on; I lean at the railing, tears streaming down my face.

Du Fu — Another Farewell to Lord Yan at Fengji StationI have come far to see you off; here we part, and the green hills can do nothing to ease my feelings.When can we hold our cups together again? Only last night the moon accompanied us both.People in every district sing your praises and hate to see you go; you served honorably under three rulers.I return alone to the village by the river and spend what remains of my life in loneliness.

Du Fu — Parting from Grand Commandant Fang's GraveTraveling again in a foreign land, I stop my horse to say goodbye at this lonely grave.My tears have left no dry earth nearby; above, broken clouds hang in the low sky.You played chess with me like Xie An and once held your sword for me like Xu Jun.I see only flowers falling among the trees, and hear orioles calling as I go.

Du Fu — Writing My Thoughts on a Traveling NightFine grass on the riverbank stirs in a light wind; a lone night boat carries a tall mast.Stars hang low over the wide plain; the moon seems to rise from the rushing great river.Is my name known because of my writing? Surely age and illness forced me out of office.What am I like, drifting about? A single gull on the sand between earth and sky.

Du Fu — Remembering My Escape from the Capital through the Golden Light Gate and My Later Transfer to HuazhouOn this road I once came back to the rightful ruler;Northern soldiers then crowded the western outskirts.The thought still frightens me badly;My scattered spirit has perhaps not returned.Now I return to the capital as a close court attendant;Surely the emperor himself did not order my transfer?Without talent and growing older each day,I stop my horse and look toward the capital's thousand gates.

Du Fu — Thinking of My Brothers on a Moonlit NightGarrison drums have stopped all travel; one wild goose calls in the autumn on the frontier.From tonight the dew turns white; the moon shines brightest in my hometown.My brothers are all scattered, and we have no home where I can ask if they live or have died.The letters I send never get through; and now the fighting has not stopped.

Du Fu — Thinking of Li Bai at the End of the WorldA cool wind rises at the world's edge. How are you, my friend?When will a wild goose bring your message? Autumn waters fill the rivers and lakes.Writing seems to bring its finest authors bad luck; evil spirits enjoy watching travelers pass by.You should speak with Qu Yuan's wronged spirit and throw a poem into the Miluo River for him.

Du Fu — Moonlit NightTonight's moon over Fuzhou is one that my wife must watch alone in her room.I pity our little children far away: they still do not understand how to miss Chang'an.Fragrant mist must wet her hair in its coils; clear light must chill her pale arms.When can we lean side by side against a light curtain and let the same moon dry our tears?

Du Fu — Spring ViewThe country lies in ruins, but hills and rivers remain; in the city, spring plants and trees grow thick.Thinking of the times, I shed tears at flowers; grieving at our separation, I am startled by birds.Beacon fires of war have burned for three months; a letter from home would be worth ten thousand coins.I scratch my white hair until it grows thinner, almost too sparse to hold a hairpin.

Du Fu — A Spring Night at the Left OfficeFlowers hide the palace side walls at dusk; roosting birds pass with soft cries.Stars seem to move above the many gates; the moon shines brightly near the palace high in the sky.Unable to sleep, I listen for the golden gate keys; when the wind blows I imagine the sound of jade horse ornaments.I have a sealed report to present tomorrow, and keep asking what time it is.

Du Mu — Staying at an InnI have no good friend at the travelers' inn; quietly I sit absorbed in thought.Under the cold lamp I remember earlier days; the cry of a lone goose wakes me from troubled sleep.A dream of going home lasts until dawn; a letter from home takes a whole year to arrive.The Xiang River is beautiful in mist and moonlight; at the gate a fishing boat is moored.

Du Xunhe — A Palace Woman's Spring ComplaintMy beauty brought me trouble early;I am too tired even to put on makeup before the mirror.The ruler's favor does not depend on looks;How, then, am I supposed to make myself look beautiful?The wind is warm, and birds call one after another;The sun is high, and flower shadows grow dense.Every year I remember my life as a girl by a Yue stream,Picking lotuses with the others.

Du Shenyan — In Response to Clerk Lu's Early Spring Outing at JinlingPeople away from home serving as officialsAre especially surprised by new signs of the season.Clouds and sunrise come up from the sea at dawn;Plum blossoms and willows bring spring across the river.The mild air urges yellow orioles to sing;Clear light shines on the green water plants.Suddenly I hear your song in an old style,And my longing for home nearly brings tears to my clothes.

Shen Quanqi — An Occasional PoemI hear that at the Yellow Dragon garrison, the troops have not been released for years.Poor moon above the woman's room: it always shines over the Han army's camp as well.The young wife's thoughts are of this spring; her husband's feelings were with her last night.Who will lead troops with banners and drums to capture Dragon City for good?

Meng Haoran — Staying on the Tonglu River, Writing to Old Friends in GuanglingAt dusk in the mountains I hear monkeys cry sadly; the great river flows fast through the night.Wind rattles the leaves on both banks; the moon lights one lonely boat.Jiande is not my home; I think of old friends in Yangzhou.I send two streams of tears far away to the other side of the sea.

Meng Haoran — Leaving Wang WeiHow long will I go on alone, returning for nothing day after day?I want to leave in search of green pastures, but regret parting from an old friend.Who among those with power would help me? There are few people in the world who understand me.So I must remain alone and shut the gate of my old home again.

Meng Haoran — Thinking of Home in the Early ColdLeaves fall and geese migrate south; the north wind is cold over the river.My home is at a bend in the Xiang River, far beyond the clouds of Chu.My tears for home have been spent while traveling; I watch a lone sail at the edge of the sky.I want to ask someone how to cross, but at evening the flat water stretches endlessly before me.

Meng Haoran — Returning to Mount Zhongnan at Year's EndI will not write to the northern palace again; I am going back to my poor home beside the southern mountain.The wise ruler set me aside because I have no talent; old friends have grown distant because I am often ill.My white hair warns that old age is coming; spring is near as the old year ends.With endless worries I cannot sleep; moonlight from the pines falls through my empty window at night.

Meng Haoran — Visiting an Old Friend's FarmAn old friend prepared chicken and millet and invited me to his farm.Green trees surround the village; blue hills slope beyond the town.We set out the meal facing the fields and gardens and talk over wine about mulberries and hemp.When the Double Ninth comes, I will return to see the chrysanthemums.

Meng Haoran — Thinking of the Monk Yuan in Qin During AutumnI have long wanted a hillside to rest on but cannot afford even a small home there.The northern land is not where I wish to be; I think of my teacher in the eastern grove.Gold is spent on firewood as costly as cinnamon; my ambitions fade as the years go by.A cool wind comes each evening; hearing cicadas only makes me sadder.

Meng Haoran — At Dongting Lake, for Prime Minister ZhangIn the eighth month the lake lies level, joining the empty sky with the highest heaven.Mist rises over Yunmeng Marsh; waves shake the city of Yueyang.I want to cross but have no boat or oars; I am ashamed to stay idle in the age of a wise ruler.I sit watching people fish and can only wish I had a fish myself.

Meng Haoran — Climbing Mount Xian with FriendsHuman affairs pass and change; people come and go, and the present becomes the past.The hills and rivers preserve their beautiful sites; now we climb them in our turn.The water has fallen and the fishing weir is shallow; in the cold air, Yunmeng Marsh looks deep.Lord Yang's stone tablet is still there; after reading it, my clothes are wet with tears.

Meng Haoran — A Feast at Daoist Mei's Mountain HouseLying among the woods I was sad that spring was ending; I opened the window to see the beautiful scene.Suddenly a messenger like a blue bird arrived to invite me into the home of Red Pine, the immortal.The stove for making elixirs has just been lit; flowers are falling from the immortal peach tree.If a young face could last forever, why not get drunk on the rosy wine?

Wei Zhuang — Thinking at Night by ZhangtaiThe clear zither sounds sad through the long night; its strings carry the sorrow of wind and rain.By a single lamp I hear Chu horns; the waning moon sets below Zhangtai.The fragrant grass is fading now, and my old friend still has not arrived.I cannot send a letter home; autumn geese are turning south again.

Wei Yingwu — Happy to Meet an Old Friend from Liangchuan on the Huai RiverWe both traveled along the Yangzi and Han and got drunk whenever we met.Since we parted like drifting clouds, ten years have flowed by like water.Our laughter and affection are as before, but our hair has thinned and turned gray.Why have you come back north, to look across the Huai at the autumn hills?

Wei Yingwu — Seeing Li Zhou Off in the Evening RainLight rain falls on the Chu River as the evening bell sounds in Jianye.Sails coming through the mist look heavy; birds flying away through the dimness seem slow.The river's mouth toward the sea cannot be seen in the distance; trees along the far bank look wet.As I see you off, I feel endless sadness; my clothes are as wet as if I were standing in fine rain.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang — Visiting Zou and Lu to Honor ConfuciusWhat did the Master spend his life doing,So restless throughout his age?This place was once the town of Zou;His home became a palace of the king of Lu.He sighed over the phoenix and his own poor fortune;He grieved for the unicorn, seeing his teaching come to an end.Now I see offerings between the two pillars;It must be as it was in his dream.

Ma Dai — Living on the Ba Plain in AutumnWind and rain have stopped over the Ba Plain; in the evening I often see lines of geese.Leaves fall from trees in a foreign land; a traveler sits alone by a cold lamp at night.White dew drips in the empty garden; beyond a lonely wall lives a monk from the wilds.I have lived by this country gate for a long time. In what year will I find a way to serve?

Ma Dai — Remembering the Past on the Chu RiverCold, bright dew gathers; the faint sun goes down beyond the hills of Chu.Monkeys cry in the trees beside Dongting Lake; I am on a boat made of magnolia wood.A bright moon rises over the broad marsh; blue hills hem in the turbulent current.I cannot see the Lord of the Clouds; all night I grieve alone for autumn.

Cui Tu — Thoughts on New Year's EveThe road across the three Ba districts is long; I travel in danger, ten thousand miles from home.Through broken hills on a night of lingering snow, I face spring alone in a foreign land.I grow farther from my family and closer to my servants.How can I bear being adrift when a new year begins tomorrow?

Cui Tu — A Lone GooseSeveral flocks have gone home beyond the passes; where is this one shadow going alone?In evening rain it lost those who called to it; it hesitates before landing in a cold pond.Low clouds over the island darken its crossing; the cold moon above the pass follows it.It may never meet an arrow or a hunter's cord, but flying alone is reason enough for fear.

Chang Jian — Written at the Meditation Hall behind Poshansi TempleAt dawn I enter the old temple; the new sunlight shines on the tall woods.A winding path leads to a quiet spot; flowers and trees grow thick around the meditation rooms.Light on the mountains makes the birds glad; reflections in the pool clear people's minds.All other sounds here are still; only the temple bell and stone chime can be heard.

Zhang Jiuling — Looking at the Moon and Thinking of Someone Far AwayThe bright moon rises above the sea; far apart as we are, we share this moment.Separated lovers resent the long night; I think of you all night long.I put out the candle, loving the room filled with moonlight; I put on my coat and feel the dew getting thick.I cannot take up the moonlight and give it to you, so I return to bed and hope for a fine dream of our meeting.

Zhang Qiao — Writing of the FrontierA horn sounds its set notes, breaking the clear autumn stillness; a soldier leans against the garrison tower.The spring wind blows toward the Green Tomb; the white sun sets over Liangzhou.No armies block the great desert; a traveler visits the distant border.May the feelings of the foreign people be like this water and always flow south toward us.

Zhang Ji — A Friend Lost among the Foreign PeoplesThe year before last he marched against the Yuezhi, and his whole army was lost at the city wall.News has stopped between the foreign lands and China; whether he lives or dies, we are parted for a long time.No one has gathered up the abandoned tents; returning horses recognize the tattered flags.I want to offer him rites, but wonder whether he is still alive; far away at the edge of the world, I cry for him now.

Xu Hun — Written at Tong Pass Inn on an Autumn Journey to the CapitalRed leaves rustle in the evening; at the long pavilion I drink a gourd of wine.Last clouds return to Mount Hua; light rain passes over the Zhongtiao Mountains.Trees follow the far line of the hills; the river's sound travels far toward the sea.Tomorrow I will reach the emperor's city, but I still dream of fishing and gathering firewood.

Xu Hun — Early AutumnA clear zither sounds through the long night; a west wind rises in the green vines.The last fireflies rest among jewel-like dew; the early geese brush past the Milky Way.Tall trees still have dense leaves at dawn; distant mountains stand out in greater numbers when it clears.A leaf has fallen in Huainan, and I sense the waves of Dongting Lake.

Wen Tingyun — Seeing Someone Off on a Journey EastYellow leaves fall by the deserted garrison; you leave the old pass with a free heart.A strong wind blows over the Hanyang ferry; the first sun shines on the mountains at Yingmen.How many people are left beside the river? A lone boat returns from the edge of the world.When will we meet again and drink wine to comfort each other after this parting?

The Monk Jiaoran — Looking for Lu Hongjian and Not Finding HimThough he moved near the town, a country path leads to his house through mulberry and hemp fields.Chrysanthemums newly planted by his fence have not yet flowered this autumn.I knock at the gate and no dog barks; about to leave, I ask the neighbors to the west.They tell me he has gone into the mountains, and each day he comes home around sunset.

Liu Changqing — Seeking Daoist Chang of South CreekAlong the path he usually takes, I see his footprints on the moss.White clouds hang above a quiet island; spring grass blocks his shut gate.After the rain I see the color of pines and follow the mountains to the source of the stream.The flowers by the creek and the thought of meditation face each other; I too forget all words.

Liu Changqing — A New Year's PoemLonging for home grows stronger in the new year; alone at the edge of the world, I weep.I am growing old and living below others; spring reaches home before it reaches a traveler like me.I spend mornings and evenings with monkeys in the mountains; willows by the river share the wind and mist.I have already been sent away to Changsha like Jia Yi; how many more years must pass from now?

Liu Changqing — Looking into the Distance from the Temple on Lord Wu's Terrace in AutumnAfter leaves fall around the old terrace, I look toward home on an autumn day.Few people come to the country temple; cloud-covered peaks lie far away across the water.The setting sun touches the old fort; cold chimes ring throughout the empty woods.I grieve for what happened to the Southern Dynasties; only the Yangzi is still here today.

Liu Changqing — Seeing General Li Off to His Retirement Home in HanyangAn exiled general who once marched south and commanded a hundred thousand troops:Dismissed, he returns to no property; old now, he still loves the age of a wise ruler.He stood alone and kept all three frontiers quiet; his sword knows he risked his life freely.On the vast waters of the Yangzi and Han, where will he go at dusk?

Liu Changqing — Seeing Wang Eleven Off on a Journey SouthI watch you cross the broad, misty water; I wave my hand, with tears wetting my clothes.Where does the flying bird vanish? The green hills face me in silence.A single sail travels far down the Yangzi; the setting sun lights the Five Lakes in spring.Who sees me here on the river island, sad with longing among the white water plants?

Liu Yuxi — The Shrine of Shu's First RulerA hero's spirit fills heaven and earth; after a thousand years it still inspires awe.His power divided the realm into three parts; his rule restored the old Han currency.With a good minister he could found a kingdom; his son did not prove worthy like him.It is sad that the former dancing girls of Shu had to dance before the court of Wei.

Liu Shenxu — UntitledThe path ends among white clouds; spring runs on beside the green creek.Sometimes fallen flowers arrive, carried far on the fragrant current.A quiet gate faces the mountain path; a study stands deep among willow trees.Even by daylight the shade is deep, but clear light falls on my clothes.

Lu Lun — Seeing Li Duan OffWithered grass covers the old frontier pass; this parting is especially sad.The road runs out beyond cold clouds; one comes home through the evening snow.I lost my parents young and became a traveler early; amid so many troubles I met you late.I cover my tears as I look toward you in vain; where amid this war and dust can we hope to meet?

Qian Qi — Seeing a Monk Return to JapanYou stayed in this great country as circumstances led you; your journey here must have felt like a dream.Across the distant sea that seems to float against the sky, the boat that carries your faith leaves this world behind.The moon reflected in water helps you meditate; fish and dragons hear the sound of Buddhist chanting.I think especially of your single lamp, shining in your eyes over ten thousand miles.

Qian Qi — From My Study at the Valley Entrance, to Adviser YangSprings and ravines surround my thatched house; vines make a curtain against clouds and sunset colors.I love bamboo after a new rain, and the mountains in the evening sun.Egrets at rest usually settle early; autumn flowers take longer to fall.My boy sweeps the vine-covered path; yesterday I arranged to meet an old friend here.

Luo Binwang — On the Cicada in PrisonIn the west, the cicada sings its song of autumn;For a prisoner wearing the southern cap, thoughts of home grow stronger.How can I bear the sight of its dark headAs I sing, now that my own hair is white?The dew is heavy and it can hardly fly forward;The wind is strong and its song is easily lost.No one believes I have remained pure;Who will tell others what is in my heart?

Dai Shulun — An Unexpected Gathering with Old Friends from My River Home at an InnIt is autumn and the moon is full again; at night the city's many gates stand dark.We meet again, as we once did south of the river; I almost think we met in a dream.Wind shakes the branches and startles roosting magpies; dew-covered grass hides insects in the cold.Traveling far from home, we could go on drinking; I ask you to stay because I dread the bell at dawn.

Han Hong — To Cheng Jin, in Response to His Gift about an Autumn NightA long bamboo mat catches the early wind; soft moonlight falls on the empty city.One goose crosses the autumn Milky Way; in a thousand homes mallets beat clothes at night.The season seems late now, and even lying down I feel far from what I hoped for.I have been reciting your fine lines until, without noticing, I hear the crows begin to call.