Poems, original and translated.
The midday sun erupts through endless desert clouds
As north-bound geese defy the wind and raging snow.
Depart, my friend, and ride across the loneliness
Towards a world where hearts are leaping for your song.
an 8th-century Chinese jueju poem, re-created in alexandrine
千里黃雲白日曛
北風吹雁雪紛紛
莫愁前路無知己
天下誰人不識君
Spring is here. In the soil,
Where hooves used to trample,
Grasses are about to come out.
With unconstrained force of life
The grasses, swaying, stretching,
Spring up — as if by volition!
And they seem to say,
“We don’t care. The one who is to grow, grows.
Sweet dew is upon us; a warm wind is blowing.
The time is now: We can no longer stay buried.
Trample they may as well;
We have a duty to fulfil.”
Two playful orioles in verdant willows sang;
Toward the azure sky a row of egrets soared.
The ancient glaciers poured their gleam through windowpanes;
Below the doorsteps slept a weary ship just moored.
an 8th-century Chinese jueju poem, re-created in alexandrine
special thanks to L.J.
兩個黃鸝鳴翠柳
一行白鷺上青天
窗含西嶺千秋雪
門泊東吳萬里船
And thus with a laugh Brahmā spoke
To the foremost of devotees,
“Indeed you have made a śloka;
That is certain beyond all doubts.
“For sacred speech by My own will
Went forth from you, O pure soul!
So create, most excellent sage;
Narrate Rāma’s account in full.
“Tell everyone of Rāma’s deeds
According to what Nārada taught:
Of a hero who’s just and wise,
Of a man who’s good and firm;
The rolling green hills and a pale river
Have accompanied us along the way.
Outside these city walls we must now part
And be scattered in wind like scraps of hay.
This sunset sees friendship become longing,
For neither clouds nor wayfarers can stay.
We strain to bid farewell for one last time,
But our horses won’t hush their plaintive neigh.
Lo! Formations have never stayed;
Rises and falls mark their being.
Now arisen, they are unmade;
Blissful therefore is their ceasing.
The following texts have been tranliterated in IAST.
This bottomless abyss, remote and yawning —
How many it has drowned!
That day of my departure will be dawning:
The void is where I’m bound.
All shall be stilled: the singing, the vying,
The shining and the striving,
My eyes’ green sparks, my voice, mild and caring,
And my hair of gold, flowing.
Waters! As the unceasing joy of Earth, lead us to join the flow
And show us that intense delight.
Impel us to participate in your most soothing savour now
Like a mother who’s all too keen.
Waters! Let’s call on you to feel that secret whose serene abode
You help us to and birth us for.
Atop the sheer cliff over waves,
The beautiful maid does retire.
She shines in her crown of laurel leaves
While clasping the murmuring lyre.
She pours out her tears in a poem,
Her instrument singing along.
But sadness still swells in her bosom,
And breaches her hold of the song.
„Que suis je, hélas !….“
What have I become, O Lord! Still alive, but what for?
So weak, like a heartless body that lingers in vain,
An empty shade, beleaguered by pity and pain,
My one and only desire is death: there’s nothing more.
Do not fall into enmity and let hatred pour
Toward the one whose heart is cleansed of power’s stain,
Growing this exile’s ache past where itself could attain:
May your own hearts soon be freed from anger’s bitter store!