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Clear waters wind Around our village, With long summer days Full of loveliness; Fluttering in and out From the house beams The swallows play; Waterfowl disport together As everlasting lovers; ... What more could I wish for?
Du Fu
My heart is in a world of water and crystal, My clothes are damp in this time of spring rains.
Du Fu
The weeping voices rise straight up and strike the clouds. A passer-by at the roadside asks a conscript why, The conscript answers only that drafting happens often.
Du Fu
Nature ever calls people to live Along with her; why should I be lured By transient rank and honours?
Du Fu
Autumn, cloud blades on the horizon. The west wind blows from ten thousand miles. Dawn, in the clear morning air, Farmers busy after long rain. The desert trees shed their few green leaves. The mountain pears are tiny but ripe. A Tartar flute plays by the city gate. A single wild goose climbs into the void.
Du Fu
A visible darkness grows up mountain paths; I lodge by the river gate high in a study, Frail cloud on a cliff edge passing the night. The lonely moon topples amid the waves; Steady, one after another, a line of cranes in flight. Howling over the kill, wild dogs and wolves. No sleep for me. I worry over battles- I have no strength to right the universe.
Du Fu
Birds the more white, against green stream Blooms burst to flame, against blue hills I glance, the spring is gone again. What day, what day, can I go home?
Du Fu
This cream will help one's nature strengthen and grow, The diet gives support in my decline.
Du Fu
Tonight my wife must watch alone the full moon over Fu-zhou; I think sadly of my sons and daughters far away, too young to understand this separation or remember our life in Chang'an. In fragrant mist, her flowing hair is damp; In clear moonlight, her jade-white arms are cold. When will we lean at the open casement together while the moonlight dries our shining tears?
Du Fu
Within the vermilion gate, meats and wines go to waste While on the roadside lie the frozen bodies of the poor.
Du Fu
Tumult, weeping, many new ghosts. Heartbroken, aging, alone, I sing To myself. Ragged mist settles In the spreading dusk. Snow skurries In the coiling wind. The wineglass Is spilled. The bottle is empty. The fire has gone out in the stove. Everywhere men speak in whispers. I brood on the uselessness of letters.
Du Fu
Good rain is coming to our delight. Its early-spring timing is perfectly right. With wind it drifts in all through the night. Silently it's drenching everything in sight.
Du Fu
The nation is ruined, but mountains and rivers remain.
Du Fu
It is almost as hard for friends to meet As for the morning and evening stars. Tonight then is a rare event, Joining, in the candlelight, Two men who were young not long ago But now are turning grey at the temples. To find that half our friends are dead Shocks us, burns our hearts with grief. We little guessed it would be twenty years Before I could visit you again. When I went away, you were still unmarried; But now these boys and girls in a row Are very kind to their father's old friend. They ask me where I have been on my journey; And then, when we have talked awhile, They bring and show me wines and dishes, Spring chives cut in the night-rain And brown rice cooked freshly a special way. My host proclaims it a festival, He urges me to drink ten cups- But what ten cups could make me as drunk As I always am with your love in my heart? Tomorrow the mountains will separate us; After tomorrow-who can say?
Du Fu
This morning's scene is good and fine, Long rain has not harmed the land.
Du Fu