Seven-Character Regulated Verse

Yuan Zhen — Sending Away Grief, First PoemLord Xie's youngest, most beloved daughter married her poor Qianlou; everything went wrong.Seeing that I had no clothes, you searched your little basket; when I begged for wine, you sold your golden hairpin.You gladly ate wild greens, sweetening your meal with coarse beans, and fed the fire with fallen leaves from an old locust tree.Today my stipend is over a hundred thousand coins; I make offerings for you and arrange another memorial feast.

Yuan Zhen — Sending Away Grief, Second PoemThe words we once spoke in jest about what would happen after death have come before my eyes today.I have given your clothes away, one by one; your sewing things remain, and I cannot bear to open them.Remembering our old affection, I cherish the servants you loved; sometimes I have dreamed of you and sent you gifts of money.I know that everyone must suffer such loss, yet for a couple who were poor together, everything brings grief.

Yuan Zhen — Sending Away Grief, Third PoemSitting alone, I grieve for you and for myself: how long, after all, is a hundred years?Deng You, left without a son, came at last to accept his fate; Pan Yue spent his words lamenting his dead wife.What hope have I of sharing your dark tomb? Harder still to hope we meet in another life.I can only keep my eyes open all night long, repaying the years in which your brow was never free of care.

Wang Wei — Reply to Secretary Jia's Poem on the Morning Court at Daming PalaceA keeper in a scarlet cap calls the dawn hours; the wardrobe attendant brings a kingfisher-green fur robe.The gates of the nine heavens open to the palace halls; robed envoys of ten thousand realms bow before the jeweled crown.At the first touch of sunlight the immortal's palm moves; incense smoke rises beside the dragon-embroidered robe.When court is done, you must draft edicts in five colors and go home, your pendants ringing, toward Phoenix Pool.

Wang Wei — To Secretary GuoThe deep gateway and high pavilion glow in lingering light; peach and plum trees cast shade as willow down flies.Within the palace faint bells sound at evening; in the secretariat birds call, with few officials near.At dawn your jade pendants swing as you hurry to the golden hall; at dusk you bear a heavenly document into the latticed gate.I long to follow you, but age defeats me; with illness as my reason, I shall lay aside court robes.

Wang Wei — Written at Imperial Command in Reply to His Majesty's Spring View in Rain on the Walkway from Penglai to XingqingThe Wei River winds through the old Qin lands; Yellow Mountain once curved around the Han palace.The royal carriage emerges far beyond a thousand willow-framed gates; from the elevated walk we look back at flowers in the imperial garden.Among clouds, two phoenix towers rise over the capital; among spring trees in the rain, a myriad households dwell.His Majesty goes out to follow the season's rites in the warmth of spring, not to amuse himself with the splendid view.

Wang Wei — Written at My Wang River Farm after Long RainsAfter long rain, cooking smoke rises slowly from the empty woods; millet and wild greens are cooked and carried to the eastern fields.Across broad watery paddies white egrets fly; in the shadow of summer trees golden orioles sing.In the mountains I practice stillness and watch morning hibiscus bloom; beneath pines I break dew-wet mallow for my simple meal.The old countryman no longer contends for a place with other guests: why, then, do the sea gulls still suspect me?

Bai Juyi — After Disorder in Henan and Famine inside the Passes Scattered My Brothers, Written While Looking at the Moon for My Elder Brother at Fuliang, My Seventh Brother at Yuqian, My Fifteenth Brother at Wujiang, and My Younger Brothers and Sisters at Fuli and XiaguiThe times are troubled, the year hungry, and our family estate has vanished; my brothers travel, each scattered east or west.Fields and gardens lie abandoned after the wars; kinsmen wander the roads far from one another.Mourning our own shadows, we are geese dispersed a thousand miles; torn from our roots, we drift like autumn tumbleweed.Seeing the same bright moon, we must all weep: one night, one longing for home, in five different places.

Cen Shen — Reply to Secretary Jia Zhi's Poem on the Morning Court at Daming PalaceCocks crow along the purple avenues, cold in dawn light; orioles sing in the imperial city as spring grows late.Morning bells in the golden palace open ten thousand doors; on jade steps the heavenly guard gathers a thousand officials.Flowers welcome their swords and pendants as stars begin to fade; willows brush the banners while dew is still wet.Only you, guest of Phoenix Pool, have sung a spring song so fine that none can answer it.

Li Bai — Climbing Phoenix Terrace in JinlingOnce a phoenix roamed Phoenix Terrace; now the phoenix is gone, the terrace empty, and the river flows on.Flowers and grass from the palace of Wu bury its hidden paths; the fine robes of Jin have become ancient mounds.Three Mountains seem half lost beyond the blue sky; the river splits around White Egret Isle.Drifting clouds always hide the sun; unable to see Chang'an, I grieve.

Li Shangyin — UntitledIt was hard to meet and just as hard to part; the east wind is weak and a hundred flowers fade.The spring silkworm spins until death, when its silk is spent; a candle's tears dry only after it has turned to ash.At dawn, before your mirror, you may grieve to see your cloudlike hair changing; reciting by night, you must feel the cold moonlight.The immortal Mount Peng is not far from here; bluebird, bring me word of her with all your care.

Li Shangyin — Untitled, First PoemPhoenix-tailed fragrant silk lies fold on fold; late at night she stitches its blue-patterned canopy.Her fan, cut like the moon, cannot hide her shy face; the carriage rolls away like thunder before they can speak.Once, in solitude, the gold lamp sank to embers; now pomegranate blossoms redden without a word of news.His dappled horse is tethered only on the bank beneath hanging willows; where in the southwest can she await a kindly wind?

Li Shangyin — Untitled, Second PoemLayered curtains hang low in the Hall of No Sorrow; lying down, she feels the clear night slowly lengthen.The goddess's life was a dream from the start; the young girl lived alone, with no beloved.Wind and waves care nothing for the weakness of water chestnut stems; who taught the fragrant cassia leaves to meet the moon and dew?Though I know this longing brings no gain, let me keep this sweet madness and its grief.

Li Shangyin — The Brocade ZitherWhy should the brocade zither have fifty strings? Every string, every bridge recalls the flowering years.Master Zhuang's dawn dream lost itself among butterflies; Emperor Wang entrusted his spring heart to the cuckoo.Under a bright sea moon pearls hold tears; beneath the warm sun of Lantian, jade gives off mist.Can such feeling wait to become a memory? Even then, I was already lost within it.

Li Shangyin — Sui PalaceThe palaces of Purple Springs lie locked in mist and clouds;The emperor wished to make ruined Wucheng his capital.Had the jade seal not gone to the man with a sun-shaped brow,His brocade sails might have reached the earth's far edge.Now rotting grass holds no fireflies;Through the ages, evening crows settle on the drooping willows.If beneath the earth he meets the last ruler of Chen,Should he ask again for the song “Flowers in the Rear Court”?

Li Shangyin — Untitled, First Poem“You will come” was an empty promise; when you went, no trace remained. A slanting moon hangs over the tower as the fifth-watch bell sounds.In a dream, distant parting made me weep beyond waking; urged to write, I sealed a letter before the ink had darkened.Candlelight half surrounds golden kingfisher ornaments; a breath of musk passes over embroidered lotuses.Liu once lamented that Mount Peng lay far away: between us are ten thousand more Mount Pengs!

Li Shangyin — Untitled, Second PoemThe east wind rustles as fine rain falls; beyond the lotus pond, faint thunder sounds.A golden toad grips the lock of the censer where incense burns; a jade tiger draws up the well rope and its bucket.The Jia girl peered through a curtain at handsome Han; the goddess of the Luo left a pillow for the gifted prince of Wei.Heart of spring, do not flower alongside the flowers: an inch of longing turns an inch to ash.

Li Shangyin — At the Planning Brush Post StationGibbons and birds still seem to fear his commands;Wind and clouds still guard his battlements.He let the great commander wield his inspired brush,Yet in the end saw a surrendered king ride off in a courier cart.His talent rivaled Guan Zhong and Yue Yi without shame;But Guan Yu and Zhang Fei had died—what could he do?Years later, passing his shrine in the Brocade Quarter,I sing “Liangfu” and find my grief has no end.

Li Shangyin — UntitledLast night's stars, last night's wind, west of the painted tower and east of the cassia hall.Though we have no bright phoenix wings to fly together, our hearts share a spark of understanding like the sacred rhinoceros horn.Across the tables they passed the hidden hook, warm with spring wine; in teams they guessed concealed objects beneath red candles.Alas, hearing the drum I had to go to my post, riding to the Orchid Terrace like a tumbling weed.

Li Shangyin — Spring RainIn the new spring I lie despondent in a white unlined robe;At White Gate all is lonely, and my wishes turn to dust.The red tower across the rain looks cold and remote;Alone I return beneath pearl blinds and swaying lanterns.On the distant road you must mourn the late spring;The last part of the night still brings me faint dreams.How can I send a letter sealed with jade earrings?Across ten thousand miles of cloud net, one wild goose flies.

Li Qi — Seeing Wei Wan Off to the CapitalAt dawn I hear the traveler sing his parting song; last night a slight frost first crossed the river.The cry of wild geese is unbearable when one is sad; how much harder to pass the clouded mountains far from home.Trees along the pass warn of approaching cold; in the imperial garden pounding blocks grow loud toward dusk.Do not think of Chang'an only as a place of pleasure and let the passing years be wasted.

Du Fu — Remembering Ancient Sites, First PoemBroken and scattered amid the northeast's dust of war, I drift between the southwestern skies and earth.The towers by the Three Gorges have detained me through the seasons; the people of the Five Streams share these clouded hills.The Jie nomads who served their lord proved treacherous in the end; this poet mourns his age and has not yet returned.Yu Xin's life was full of desolation; in old age his poems stirred the country about the Yangzi passes.

Du Fu — Remembering Ancient Sites, Second PoemWatching the leaves fall, I deeply understand Song Yu's grief; his refined and graceful spirit makes him my teacher.Across a thousand autumns I gaze sadly and shed a tear, born in a different age and time of trouble.His old home stands amid rivers and hills, but all that remains is his art; could the ruined Cloud and Rain Terrace have been only a dream?The palaces of Chu themselves have wholly vanished; even today boatmen point them out in uncertainty.

Du Fu — Remembering Ancient Sites, Third PoemA thousand hills and valleys run toward Jingmen, where the village that raised the Radiant Consort remains.Once she left the purple palace for the northern desert; only her green grave stayed to face the dusk.They knew her springtime face only from a painting; her spirit returns in vain beneath the moon, with jeweled pendants ringing.A thousand years of pipa music speak in the nomad tongue, and its melodies tell her grievance plainly.

Du Fu — Remembering Ancient Sites, Fourth PoemThe ruler of Shu hoped to take Wu, and journeyed to the Three Gorges; the year he died, he lay in Yong'an Palace.I imagine his kingfisher banners amid empty hills; his jade hall is lost within a rustic shrine.Water birds nest among the cedars and pines of the ancient temple; each season villagers hurry there with offerings.The shrine of his minister stands always close beside it; lord and servant receive the same rites as one.

Du Fu — Remembering Ancient Sites, Fifth PoemZhuge's great name fills the universe; the portrait of this minister still radiates lofty dignity.His plans shaped the division into three kingdoms; above ten thousand ages he soars, a feather in the heavens.His peers were Yi Yin and Lü Shang; even Xiao He and Cao Shen fall short of his command.Fortune shifted; he could not restore the Han. His resolve held firm, and hard campaigns wore out his life.

Du Fu — Hearing That the Imperial Army Has Recovered Henan and HebeiBeyond Sword Gate news came suddenly: Ji North has been retaken! Hearing it, I drenched my robes with tears.I turn to my wife and children: where is sorrow now? I roll up my books and papers, almost mad with joy.In broad daylight I will sing and drink my fill; with spring as my companion, I can go home.Straight through Ba Gorge and Wu Gorge, then down past Xiangyang to Luoyang!

Du Fu — A Night at the HeadquartersIn clear autumn the parasol tree by the headquarters well is cold;Alone I sleep in the river city as the candle burns low.Through the long night the horn's sound speaks to itself in grief;At the sky's center, who can share the beauty of the moon?The dust of war has dragged on; letters have ceased;Passes are desolate, and travel by land is hard.Ten years of solitude I have endured already;I make myself perch in this one branch and find peace.

Du Fu — Night in the TowerAt year's end, daylight dwindles as winter advances; at the edge of the world, frost and snow clear beneath a cold night sky.In the fifth watch, drums and horns sound tragic and grand; in the Three Gorges, stars and the Milky Way tremble in reflection.We hear a thousand families weeping in the wilds at news of battles; from several places songs of the tribes rise among fishermen and woodcutters.Crouching Dragon and Leaping Horse have both become yellow earth; the news of human lives passes into silence.

Du Fu — Climbing the HeightsWind blows sharp, the sky is high, and gibbons cry in grief;Above clear islets and white sand, birds wheel in flight.Endless trees let fall their leaves with a rustle;The inexhaustible Yangzi comes rolling on.Ten thousand miles from home, I am always a guest in sorrowful autumn;A hundred years of illness, and I climb the terrace alone.These hard times have brought deep bitterness to my frosted hair;Broken in spirit, I have lately stopped my cup of rough wine.

Du Fu — Climbing the TowerFlowers crowd the high tower and wound a traveler's heart; I climb it while calamities spread across the land.Spring light comes down the Brocade River from heaven and earth; clouds over Jade Rampart change with ancient and modern times.The court that faces the North Star will not change; bandits of the western hills, do not attack it.Even the poor last lord has his shrine; at dusk I can only sing “Liangfu.”

Du Fu — The Chancellor of ShuWhere shall I find the chancellor's shrine?Outside the Brocade City, where cypresses grow thick.Green grass against the steps keeps its spring color;Behind the leaves, an oriole sings its lovely notes in vain.Three visits brought him the plans for all beneath heaven;Through two reigns he gave a loyal minister's heart to founding and governing.He died before his campaign had won;For all time he leaves heroes with tears upon their robes.

Du Fu — A Guest ArrivesNorth and south of my cottage spring waters spread;All day I see only flocks of gulls come by.I have never swept the flower path for a guest;Today, for you, I first open my vine-grown gate.The market is far: my table offers no choice of dishes;We are poor: my wine jar holds only last year's brew.If you will drink with my old neighbor as well,I'll call across the fence for him to finish our cups.

Du Fu — Looking into the DistanceWestern hills wear snow above the three frontier forts; in the south, the clear river runs beneath Ten Thousand Mile Bridge.War's dust across the land keeps me apart from my brothers; at the world's edge my tears fall, far from everyone.In the late years left to me I can offer only an ailing body; I have not repaid this sacred reign by the smallest grain of dust.Sometimes I ride beyond the city and gaze toward the horizon, unable to bear the daily ruin of human affairs.

Liu Zongyuan — From Liuzhou Tower, Sent to the Governors of Zhang, Ting, Feng and LianA high tower rises over the city against the great wilderness; thoughts of grief stretch endlessly toward sea and sky.A wild wind tosses the waters around the hibiscus; driving rain slants into the walls covered with vines.Trees beyond the mountains block my view for a thousand miles; the bending river winds like nine turns of my heart.We came together to the tattooed lands of the Hundred Yue, yet even our letters cannot cross from one prefecture to another.

Huangfu Ran — Spring ThoughtsOrioles sing and swallows chatter, heralding the new year; how many thousand miles away are Mayi and Dragon Mound?My home is in Qin's city beside the old Han gardens; my heart follows the bright moon into nomad skies.The words I weave into brocade speak of endless regret; flowering boughs by the tower seem to laugh at my solitary sleep.I would ask General Dou, commander of the cavalry: when will you turn your banners home from Mount Yanran?

Wei Yingwu — Sent to Li Dan and Yuan XiLast year we parted among blossoms; now the flowers have bloomed again after a year.The world's affairs lie beyond all reckoning; dark spring sorrow alone lulls me to sleep.With so many illnesses I long for fields at home; with refugees in my district, I am ashamed to draw my salary.I hear you plan to come and see me; watching the moon from my western tower, I have seen it round so many times.

Zu Yong — Gazing toward Ji GateOne sight from the terrace of Yan startles a traveler's heart: pipes and drums clamor in the Han general's camp.Cold brilliance rises for ten thousand miles from piled snow; dawn light makes the banners move along three frontiers.Beacons on the sands burn beneath the nomad moon; clouded hills by the sea surround Ji City.Though I was no clerk who cast aside his brush as a boy, I too would ask for the long tassel and win honor.

Qin Taoyu — The Poor GirlShe has never known the scent of silk at her thatched gate; seeking a good matchmaker only deepens her hurt.Who loves fine spirit and lofty grace? Everyone favors the sparing fashions of the day.She dares claim that her ten fingers have uncommon skill; she will not paint her brows to compete in beauty.How bitter to work gold thread year after year, making bridal clothes for other women.

Gao Shi — Sending Junior Prefects Li and Wang to ExileAlas, what does this farewell mean for you both? I stop my horse, lift my cup, and ask about your places of exile.Gibbons cry in Wu Gorge, bringing tears in rows; returning geese over Hengyang might bring a few letters.Above the Green Maple River the autumn sky stretches far; beside Baidi City ancient trees stand thin.This enlightened age still sends abundant rain and dew; part for a while, and do not despair.

Cui Shu — Climbing the Immortal's Terrace on the Ninth, for Magistrate LiuThe Han emperor Wen built this high terrace; as we climb today, morning light unfolds.Clouds and hills of the Three Jin face north; wind and rain come from the eastern imperial tombs.Who could recognize the keeper of the mountain pass? The immortal beside the river has gone and will not return.For now I will seek the magistrate of Pengze nearby and drink with him in joy from cups of chrysanthemum wine.

Cui Hao — Yellow Crane TowerA man of former days rode away upon a yellow crane; here only Yellow Crane Tower remains.Once gone, the yellow crane has never returned; white clouds have drifted idly for a thousand years.Across the clear river the trees of Hanyang stand distinct; on Parrot Isle the fragrant grass grows thick.At dusk, where is my home? Misty waves upon the river fill me with sorrow.

Cui Hao — Passing through HuayinLofty Mount Hua overlooks the capital of Xianyang; its three peaks beyond the sky seem beyond all carving.Clouds disperse before the Martial Emperor's shrine; rain has just cleared over the Immortal's Palm.To the north, river and mountains guard Qin's treacherous passes; westward, trees beside the post road reach the level Han altar.I ask you seekers of wealth and fame along the road: would it not be better to seek long life here?

Wen Tingyun — Crossing South of LizhouEmpty water glows serenely against the setting sun; crooked islands meet dark green mountain haze.Above the waves a horse neighs, watching oars depart; beside willows travelers rest and await the returning boat.Gulls scatter over a few clumps of sandy grass; one egret flies across ten thousand acres of riverside fields.Who knows how to take a boat and seek Fan Li, forgetting worldly designs among the mist and waters of the Five Lakes?

Wen Tingyun — Temple of Su WuBefore the Han envoys, Su Wu's spirit was overwhelmed; old shrine and lofty trees alike stretch into the misty past.Beyond the clouds geese vanished beneath the nomad moon; on the ridge sheep returned through smoke over frontier grass.When he came home, the halls were not those of the emperor's old tent; when he left, he wore cap and sword in the prime of life.At Maoling he found no noble seal to claim; before autumn waves he wept for waters running away.

Liu Changqing — Parting Again from Officials Xue Six and Liu Eight at JiangzhouWho could have thought my life's journey would bring a gracious decree? I know only that in worldly affairs I must learn the drunkard's song.Wild geese cross a moonlit river; south of the Huai the leaves fall, and the Chu hills seem many.I take comfort that my refuge by blue waters is near; seeing my reflection, I can do nothing about my white hair.Now I am old and cast aside by all; ashamed, I thank you for still warning me to take care amid the wind and waves.

Liu Changqing — Passing Jia Yi's House in ChangshaFor three years he lingered here as an exiled official; for ten thousand ages only the Chu visitor's sorrow remains.Alone I seek him among autumn grass, long after his departure; in the cold woods I see only the slanting sun.Emperor Wen of Han was wise, yet showed so little favor; the Xiang River is indifferent and could not know his lament.In these desolate hills and rivers where leaves fall, I pity you: why were you sent to the earth's far edge?

Liu Changqing — From Xiakou to Parrot Isle, Gazing toward Yueyang, Sent to Governor YuanNo waves or mists obscure the river islet; for a traveler in Chu, longing stretches ever farther.At Hankou the setting sun shines on a bird crossing; at Dongting autumn waters meet the far sky.Behind a lonely town, horns sound cold by the ridge; under a lone tree by the river a boat moors for the night.Jia Yi wrote memorials grieving for the Han; exiled to Changsha, he is pitied in every age.

Liu Yuxi — Remembering the Past at West Fortress MountainWang Jun's towered warships sailed down from Yizhou; Jinling's royal aura darkened and died.A thousand-yard iron chain sank to the riverbed; a single flag of surrender rose from Stone City.How often has the world lamented what is past? The shape of the mountain still rests beside the cold current.Now the four seas are one home, and autumn reeds rustle across the old fortifications.

Lu Lun — Mooring at Ezhou in the EveningThe clouds part and distant Hanyang City comes in view, yet my solitary sail is still a day's journey away.Merchants sleep by day, knowing that the waves are calm; hearing boatmen talk at night, I sense the tide has risen.On the Three Xiang my graying hair meets the autumn; beneath the moon my heart flies ten thousand miles toward home.My old estate has vanished in the wars; how can I bear the drums of battle beside the river?

Qian Qi — To Secretary Pei at the Palace GateIn the second month golden orioles fly through Shanglin Park; at dawn spring shadows darken the purple Forbidden City.The bells of Changle fade beyond the blossoms; rain deepens the willows' green by Dragon Pool.The mild spring cannot lift the sorrow of a man at the end of his road; in the heavens I always dream of holding up the sun.For ten years I have offered poems and have yet to find favor; ashamed, I show my white hair among your splendid court pins.

Xue Feng — Palace SongIn the twelve towers every woman makes herself beautiful at dawn; from the Tower of Watching Immortals they watch for the king.The golden beast holds a cold chain of rings in its teeth; water dripping from the bronze dragon measures the long hours of day.She combs her cloudlike hair and turns again to the mirror; about to change her silk dress, she adds more perfume.From afar she peers toward the open curtain of the great hall, where courtiers in robes and trousers sweep the imperial bed.

Han Hong — Written at Immortal Wandering TempleAt the immortal's terrace I first see the towers of the five cities;The scene is hushed as the night's rain clears.Distant mountains meet Qin's trees in evening light;Nearby, pounding blocks announce autumn in the Han palace.Thin pine shadows lie on the quiet empty altar;The scent of fine grasses fills the small secluded cavern.Why seek another world elsewhere?Here in the world of men there is also Mount Danqiu.

Yuan Zhen — Mourning My Wife, First PoemYou were Lord Xie's youngest and favorite daughter, but after you married a poor man like Qianlou, everything went wrong.When you saw I had no clothes, you searched through the basket; when I begged for wine, you pulled out your gold hairpin to pay for it.You were content with wild greens for our meals, with long bean shoots; we relied on fallen leaves from the old locust tree for firewood.Today my salary is over a hundred thousand, and all I can do for you is arrange offerings and memorial rites.

Yuan Zhen — Mourning My Wife, Second PoemWhat we used to say in jest about dying has all come before me today.I have given away your clothes, nearly all of them; your sewing still remains, and I cannot bear to open it.Thinking of our old life, I still care for the servants; I have even sent you money and gifts because I dreamed of you.I know everyone feels this grief, but for a couple who lived together in poverty, every memory hurts.

Yuan Zhen — Mourning My Wife, Third PoemSitting alone, I grieve for you and for myself. How long is even a hundred years?Deng You had no son and came to accept his fate; Pan Yue mourned his wife, though words did him no good.What hope is there in sharing a dark grave? A reunion in another life is even harder to expect.All I can do is keep my eyes open through the night to repay you for all the years you never stopped worrying.

Wang Wei — In Response to Jia's Poem on the Early Court at Daming PalaceThe timekeeper in his red cap announces the dawn watch; the keeper of clothes presents a green cloud-patterned coat.The high gates of the palace open; officials dressed for court from every land bow to the emperor's crown.The sun has just reached the ceremonial palm when it moves; incense smoke floats beside the dragon embroidered on his robe.After court, you must write a decree on five-colored paper; your pendants sound as you return to the secretariat.

Wang Wei — For Official GuoThe palace gateway and high pavilion glow in the last light; peach and plum trees cast shade while willow fluff flies.Sparse bells sound in the forbidden grounds as evening reaches the officials' homes; birds call in the ministry, with few clerks about.Each morning your jade pendants sway as you hurry to the golden hall; each evening you bring an imperial message and bow at the decorated gate.I would like to follow you, but I am old; illness will let me put aside my court robes.

Wang Wei — Written at the Emperor's Command in Response to His Poem on a Rainy Spring View from the Gallery between Penglai and XingqingThe Wei River winds along the old defenses of Qin; Yellow Mountain once curved by the Han palace.The imperial carriage emerges far beyond the willows at a thousand gates; from the raised gallery the emperor looks back at the flowers in the upper gardens.Clouds surround the twin towers of the imperial city; spring trees rise amid ten thousand homes in the rain.He has come to follow the season's warm energy and its proper duties, not to enjoy the beauty on an imperial outing.

Wang Wei — At My Wangchuan Estate after Long RainIn the empty rainy woods, cooking fires are slow to start; wild greens and millet are cooked for workers in the eastern field.White egrets fly above the broad wet rice fields; yellow orioles sing in the dark summer trees.In the mountains I practice stillness and watch the morning hibiscus; beneath the pines I eat simple food and pick dew-covered mallow.The old countryman no longer argues with others over where to sit; why should the seagulls still suspect me?

Bai Juyi — Looking at the Moon and Writing to My Scattered Brothers and Sisters after War and FamineIn troubled times and a year of famine, our family's livelihood is gone; my brothers travel in different directions.After the fighting our fields and gardens lie empty; our family wanders along the roads.Separated, we are like wild geese a thousand miles apart; uprooted, like tumbleweeds scattered in the autumn wind.As we all look at the bright moon, we must all be crying; in one night our longing for home is the same in five places.

Cen Shen — In Response to Jia Zhi's Poem on the Early Court at Daming PalaceA rooster crows on the purple road in the cold light of dawn; orioles sing in the capital as spring colors fade.The dawn bell at the golden palace opens thousands of doors; on jade steps the imperial guard surrounds the officials.Flowers meet their swords and pendants as the stars begin to set; willows brush the banners before the dew has dried.Only you, a guest at the Phoenix Pool, have written a spring song that is hard for anyone to answer.

Li Bai — Climbing Phoenix Terrace at JinlingPhoenixes once came to Phoenix Terrace; they have gone, and the empty terrace overlooks the river flowing on.Flowers and grass cover the paths in Wu's palace; the noble officials of Jin are now buried on old hills.Three mountains are half hidden beyond the blue sky; two streams part around Egret Island.Clouds always cover the sun; I cannot see Chang'an, and that makes me sad.

Li Shangyin — UntitledMeeting is hard and parting is hard too; the east wind has weakened and the flowers are dying.The spring silkworm's thread runs out only when it dies; the candle's tears dry only when it has burned to ash.At dawn, looking in the mirror, you must worry that your dark hair has changed; reciting verse at night, you must feel the moonlight's cold.The immortal mountain is not far from here; let the blue bird kindly go and look for you.

Li Shangyin — Untitled, First PoemThe fragrant silk with a phoenix-tail pattern is thin, though folded many times; late at night she sews the blue-patterned round canopy.She makes a fan shaped like the moon but cannot hide her embarrassment; his carriage passes with a sound like thunder, and they cannot speak.Once I was alone as the lamp's gold wick burned down; there was no news at all when the pomegranate flowers turned red.My dappled horse is tied only to the bank under the willows; where in the southwest can I wait for a favorable wind?

Li Shangyin — Untitled, Second PoemHeavy curtains hang low in Mo Chou's hall; after she lies down, the clear night seems to go on forever.The goddess's whole life was only a dream; the young woman at home has no husband.The wind and waves show no mercy to the fragile water chestnut; who lets moonlit dew make the cinnamon leaves fragrant?Even if longing does no good at all, I can still feel sad in my foolish love.

Li Shangyin — The Patterned ZitherWhy does this beautiful zither have fifty strings? Each string and bridge brings back my best years.Zhuangzi dreamed at dawn and lost track of whether he was a butterfly; Emperor Wang put his longing for spring into the cuckoo's call.Under the moon over the vast sea, pearls hold tears; in the warmth of the sun at Lantian, jade seems to give off mist.Could these feelings have waited to become memories? Even then they left me at a loss.

Li Shangyin — The Sui PalaceAt Ziquan the palace buildings are locked amid mist and sunset clouds;He wanted to make Wucheng the seat of his empire.If the imperial seal had not passed to the man with a sun-like forehead,His brocade sails might have gone on to the end of the earth.Today there are no fireflies in the rotting grass;The weeping willows have held evening crows through all the years.If he should meet the last ruler of Chen below the earth,Would it be right to ask him again about “Flowers in the Back Courtyard”?

Li Shangyin — Untitled, First PoemYou said you would come, but they were empty words; you left without a trace. The moon slants over the tower as the fifth-watch bell rings.In my dream I cry over our distant parting and cannot call you back; hurriedly I write a letter before the ink is dark enough.Candlelight partly lights the gold kingfisher design; musk incense drifts faintly across the embroidered lotus.Liu already complained that the immortal mountain was far away; now ten thousand more ranges lie beyond it!

Li Shangyin — Untitled, Second PoemThe east wind rustles and fine rain comes; light thunder sounds beyond the lotus pond.A golden toad holds the lock as incense burns inside; a jade tiger draws the rope back from the well.Lady Jia peered through the curtain at young Han; the goddess of the Luo left a pillow for the talented prince of Wei.Do not let feelings of love open like flowers in spring: each inch of longing turns into an inch of ash.

Li Shangyin — The Planning Post StationMonkeys and birds still seem to fear his written orders;Wind and clouds still seem to protect the camp defenses.The great commander used his inspired plans in vain;In the end a king surrendered and rode away in a post carriage.His talent matched Guan Zhong and Yue Yi;But what could he do after Guan Yu and Zhang Fei died?In later years, when I pass his shrine at Jinli,I sing “Liangfu” and my regret is still not spent.

Li Shangyin — UntitledLast night's stars and last night's wind were west of the painted tower and east of the cinnamon hall.Our bodies have no bright phoenix wings to fly together, but our hearts meet at one point, like the two parts of a rhinoceros horn.Across the tables we passed the hidden hook, warmed by spring wine; in teams we guessed covered objects under red candlelight.Sadly, I heard the drum calling me to work; I rode to the archives like a drifting weed.

Li Shangyin — Spring RainIn my white unlined robe I lie down sadly in the new spring;At White Gate all is lonely, and nothing goes as I wish.Across the rain I look toward the red tower and feel cold;A lantern sways by the beaded curtain as I return alone.On the long road you must grieve that spring is growing late;In the remaining hours of night I still dream of you faintly.How can I send you this letter sealed with jade earrings?Across ten thousand miles of cloud, a single wild goose flies.

Li Qi — Seeing Wei Wan Off to the CapitalThis morning I heard a traveler's farewell song; last night the first light frost came as he crossed the river.The cries of wild geese are hard to hear when you are sad; how much harder it is to cross cloud-covered mountains away from home.The trees by the pass warn that cold is near; in the imperial gardens, the sound of clothes being beaten grows louder toward evening.When you see Chang'an and its places of pleasure, don't let the years slip away for nothing.

Du Fu — Thoughts on Ancient Sites, First PoemTorn apart in the war and dust of the northeast, I have wandered through the southwest under the open sky.Among the Three Gorges' towers I have stayed through many days and nights; among the Five Streams' people in their own clothes, I have lived with cloud and mountain.The foreign rebels proved disloyal to their ruler; the poet grieves for his age and still cannot return.Yu Xin's life was full of sadness; in his old age his poems moved the lands along the river and the passes.

Du Fu — Thoughts on Ancient Sites, Second PoemSeeing the leaves fall, I understand Song Yu's sadness; that elegant, learned poet is also my teacher.I look back over a thousand years and shed tears; we belong to different, unhappy ages.His old home among rivers and hills survives only in his writing; was the deserted terrace's cloud-and-rain tale only a dream?Most of all the Chu palace is gone, and even the boatmen who point it out today are unsure.

Du Fu — Thoughts on Ancient Sites, Third PoemCountless hills and valleys run toward Jingmen; the village where the Beautiful Consort grew up still stands.She left the purple palace for the northern desert; only her green tomb remains facing the evening.The emperor knew her springtime face only from a portrait; her spirit returns in vain on moonlit nights, with her jade ornaments ringing.For a thousand years the lute has played the language of the northern people, clearly voicing her grief in its music.

Du Fu — Thoughts on Ancient Sites, Fourth PoemThe ruler of Shu looked toward Wu and came to the Three Gorges; he died at Yong'an Palace.I imagine his green imperial banners in these empty hills; the jade palace is now a deserted country shrine.Water birds nest in the cedars and pines of his old temple; village elders come for the seasonal rites.The shrine of his minister Zhuge is always close by; ruler and minister are honored together in the same ceremonies.

Du Fu — Thoughts on Ancient Sites, Fifth PoemZhuge's great name reaches throughout the world; his portrait as chief minister looks dignified and noble.His plans dealt with a realm divided in three; through all ages he stands as high as a feather in the sky.His talent was equal to that of Yi Yin and Lü Shang; even Xiao He and Cao Can seem lesser beside his calm command.But as fortune shifted, the Han could not be restored; determined to the end, he died worn out by military affairs.

Du Fu — Hearing That the Government Army Has Recovered Henan and HebeiSuddenly word comes from beyond the mountains that Jibei has been recovered; as soon as I hear it, tears soak my clothes.I look back at my wife and children: where is their sadness now? I roll up my books at random, almost mad with joy.By daylight I must sing loudly and drink plenty of wine; with spring as my companion, I can go home.I'll go straight through Ba Gorge and Wu Gorge, then down to Xiangyang and on toward Luoyang.

Du Fu — Staying at HeadquartersIn clear autumn the plane trees by the headquarters well are cold;I stay alone in the river city as the candle burns down.All night the horn sounds sadly, as if speaking to itself;The moon looks beautiful high in the sky, but who is there to see it?Years of war have cut off letters and news;The passes lie desolate, and travel by land is hard.I have borne ten years of being alone;I make myself settle on this one branch for a little peace.

Du Fu — Night in the WatchtowerAt year's end the changing seasons shorten the days; far from home, snow and frost clear from the cold night.In the last night watch drums and horns sound sad and strong; the stars and the Milky Way shake in the waters of the Three Gorges.In the countryside, a thousand households cry at news of war; in several places fishermen and woodcutters sing the songs of local peoples.The Crouching Dragon and the Leaping Horse are both dust now; human affairs and news from friends fade into silence.

Du Fu — Climbing the HeightsThe wind blows hard, the sky is high, and the monkeys cry sadly;Birds wheel above the clear island and white sand.Endless falling leaves rustle down;The unending Yangzi rolls on.Ten thousand miles away from home, I always spend autumn as a traveler;In my old age, often ill, I climb the terrace alone.Hard times and sorrow have covered my temples with white hair;Broken down, I have lately had to give up my cup of rough wine.

Du Fu — Climbing the TowerFlowers near the high tower hurt my heart as a traveler; I climb it amid troubles throughout the land.Spring color along the Jin River fills the world; clouds over Yulei Mountain change from ancient times to now.The imperial court in the north will not change; the raiders in the western hills must not invade us.Poor last ruler, you still have your shrine; at dusk I sing “Liangfu” for a while.

Du Fu — The Minister of ShuWhere can I find the prime minister's shrine?Beyond the Brocade City, thick cypress trees surround it.Green grass by the steps has its own spring color;A yellow oriole sings beautifully, unheard behind the leaves.Three times the ruler visited to seek his plans for the world;He served two rulers, giving his old heart to their founding and survival.He died before his military campaign succeeded,Leaving heroes forever with tears soaking their clothes.

Du Fu — A Guest ComesSouth and north of my house there is spring water everywhere;All I see, day after day, are the gulls that come here.I have never swept the flower-lined path for a guest;Today, for you, I open my rough gate for the first time.The market is far away, so our meal has no variety;We are poor, so the wine in the jar is only an old brew.If you're willing to drink with the old neighbor,I'll call him over the fence and we can finish the rest.

Du Fu — Looking into the DistanceSnow lies on the three unusual garrisons in the western hills; to the south are the clear river at Nanpu and the Ten Thousand Mile Bridge.War across the country has separated me from my brothers; I cry alone, far away at the edge of the world.Old age has brought me many illnesses; I have not done the smallest thing to repay the imperial court.Sometimes I ride beyond the town and look far into the distance; I cannot bear how bleak human affairs grow each day.

Liu Zongyuan — From the Tower at Liuzhou, Writing to the Governors of Zhang, Ting, Feng, and LianThe high tower on the city wall looks out over the vast wilderness; sad thoughts stretch as far as sea and sky.A fierce wind tosses the lotus-covered water; thick rain slants across the vine-covered wall.Mountain trees hide the view a thousand miles away; the river bends like a stomach twisting nine times.We came together to this land of tattooed southern peoples, yet letters between us are still delayed from one district to another.

Huangfu Ran — Thoughts in SpringOrioles sing and swallows call to announce a new year; but how many thousand miles away are Mayi and Longdui?My home in Qin's city stands near the Han palace grounds; my heart follows the bright moon to the northern lands.Words woven in brocade on my loom tell of my lasting sorrow; upstairs, flower-covered branches seem to laugh at me for sleeping alone.Let me ask General Dou: when will you bring your banners home after carving your victory on Mount Yanran?

Wei Yingwu — To Li Dan and Yuan XiLast year we parted among the flowers; now the flowers have opened again and a year has passed.I cannot foresee what life will bring; overcome by spring sadness, I fall asleep alone.Often ill, I long for the fields back home; when people leave my town, I am ashamed to take my salary.I hear you plan to come and see me; how many times have I watched the full moon from the western tower?

Zu Yong — Looking toward Jizhou GateA look toward the Yan terrace startles this traveler: flutes and drums sound loudly in the Han general's camp.Cold light from piled snow stretches ten thousand miles; at dawn tall banners stir along all three borders.Beacons on the battlefield shine beneath the northern moon; cloudy hills by the sea surround Jizhou city.I was no young clerk who threw away his writing brush, but I too want to win honor by volunteering for the army.

Qin Taoyu — A Poor GirlBehind a rough door, she has never known the scent of fine silk; the thought of relying on a good matchmaker only hurts her more.Who loves her graceful bearing and high standards? Everyone admires the day's fashion for simple hair and makeup.She dares say her ten fingers are especially skilled, but she will not compete at painting her eyebrows long.Year after year she has to work gold thread, sewing wedding clothes for other women.

Gao Shi — Seeing Off Magistrate Li, Exiled to the Gorges, and Magistrate Wang, Exiled to ChangshaFriends, how do you feel as you leave? I stop my horse, hold my cup and ask about the places of exile.The monkeys' cries in Wu Gorge will bring you several lines of tears; how many letters will the returning geese bring from Hengyang?The autumn sky is far above the river with green maples; old trees stand thin beside Baidi City.Today our enlightened age shows much kindness, like rain and dew; don't hesitate over this short separation.

Cui Shu — Climbing the Terrace for Viewing Immortals on the Ninth Day, for Magistrate LiuEmperor Wen of Han built this high terrace; today I climb it as the dawn brightens.The cloud-covered mountains of the three Jin regions all face north; wind and rain from the two imperial tombs come from the east.Who could have recognized the keeper of the pass gate? The immortal old man by the river will not return.For now I want to find the magistrate of Pengze nearby and happily share cups of chrysanthemum wine.

Cui Hao — Yellow Crane TowerA man in the past rode a yellow crane away; only Yellow Crane Tower is left here.The yellow crane has never come back; for a thousand years the white clouds have drifted on.On a clear day I can make out trees across the river in Hanyang and thick sweet grass on Parrot Island.At dusk, where is the road home? Mist on the river makes me sad.

Cui Hao — Passing Mount HuaHigh Mount Hua looks down on the capital near Xianyang; its three peaks beyond the sky seem beyond any carving.Clouds are about to clear before Emperor Wu's shrine; rain has just stopped over the Immortal's Palm.To the north, river and hills border Qin's dangerous passes; to the west, roadside trees run toward the flat Han altars.Let me ask the travelers after fame and wealth: why not learn how to live forever in this place?

Wen Tingyun — Crossing South of LizhouCalm water and open sky face the slanting sunlight; curved islands fade into the green hills.A horse neighs among the waves as the boat rows away; people rest by the willows, waiting for the ferry to return.Gulls scatter over clumps of grass on the sand; one egret flies above miles of fields beside the river.Who understands how to take a boat like Fan Li, and forget worldly schemes alone among the misty waters of the Five Lakes?

Wen Tingyun — The Shrine of Su WuSu Wu broke down before the Han envoy; his old shrine and tall trees seem distant and strange.No geese come from beyond the clouds under the moon in the northern sky; sheep return across the ridge amid the mist of frontier grass.On his return the palace towers were no longer those he had left; when he departed, he was a young man wearing his official cap and sword.At Maoling he found no title of marquis to receive; before autumn waves he wept over the river that flows away.

Liu Changqing — Parting Again from Officials Xue Six and Liu Eight at JiangzhouWho would have thought my life would receive a favorable imperial order? From the world's events I have only learned to sing and drink.Above the river, northern geese pass through the bright moonlight; south of the Huai, trees shed their leaves among the many Chu mountains.I am glad to be near a place to withdraw to; but when I look at my reflection, what can I do about my white hair?Today, old and feeble, I am rejected by everyone; I am ashamed that you still tell me to take care among the wind and waves.

Liu Changqing — Passing Jia Yi's House in ChangshaHe stayed here for three years in exile as an official; across all the ages only sorrow for this visitor to Chu remains.Alone I search through autumn grass after the man has gone; in the cold woods I see nothing but the setting sun.Though Emperor Wen of Han was wise, his favor was still thin; the Xiang River cares nothing for anyone's lament.Amid these quiet hills and falling leaves, I grieve for you: why were you sent to the edge of the world?

Liu Changqing — Looking toward Yueyang from Parrot Island on My Way from Xiakou, to Minister YuanThere are no waves or mist along the river islands; my thoughts of you stretch even farther across the Chu country.At sunset birds cross slantwise above Hankou; the autumn waters of Dongting Lake meet the distant sky.At the lonely city behind the ridge, a horn sounds in the cold; I moor my boat at night beside a lone tree on the river.Jia Yi wrote to the emperor out of concern for the Han; exiled to Changsha, he is pitied in every age.

Liu Yuxi — Thinking of the Past at Mount XisaiWang Jun's tall warships sailed down from Yizhou, and Jinling's royal power suddenly faded.A thousand-fathom iron chain sank to the riverbed; a white flag of surrender rose over Stone City.How many times have people mourned what happened long ago? The mountain still stands beside the cold current.Now the whole land is one home; autumn reeds rustle among the old fortifications.

Lu Lun — Stopping at Ezhou in the EveningWhen the clouds clear I see Hanyang City far away, but my lone sail still has a full day's travel to go.Merchants sleep by day, showing that the waves are calm; boatmen talk at night, and I know the tide is rising.My gray temples meet autumn in the three Xiang riverlands; under the bright moon I long to return across ten thousand miles.War has destroyed the livelihood I once had; how much more can I bear the drums of war sounding on the river?

Qian Qi — For Secretary Pei at CourtIn the second month yellow orioles fly over the upper grove; at dawn the forbidden palace lies dark in the spring city.The bells of Changle fade beyond the flowers; the willows by Dragon Pool look deeper green in the rain.The warm spring cannot ease my sorrow at having no prospects; I still long to serve the ruler in the high court.For ten years I have offered poems without finding favor; I am ashamed to face your fine official cap with my white hair.

Xue Feng — Palace SongIn the twelve towers all the women put on morning makeup; at the Tower for Viewing Immortals they look out for the ruler.The linked gold beast heads holding the locks are cold; water drips from the bronze dragon through the long daytime watch.After arranging her hair in high coils, she looks again in the mirror; before changing her silk clothes, she adds more perfume.She peers toward the curtains opening in the main hall, where palace servants in robes and trousers sweep the imperial bed.

Han Hong — The Immortal's TempleAt the immortal terrace I first see the five-towered building;The scene is chilly as last night's rain comes to an end.Distant mountains connect to Qin's trees at dusk;Nearby, the sound of beating cloth announces autumn at the Han palace.The shadows of scattered pines fall across the quiet, empty altar;Small cave entrances lie still amid the scent of fine grass.Why seek a place beyond the world somewhere else?This world has its own land of immortals.