English

Long years ago, at fifteen, maybe less,
How earnestly I loved the Classics then:
Poor as I was, my heart possessed true wealth,
That ache to learn such truths as make good men.

I threw all windows wide upon the world
And climbed high hills to find those truths I sought.
The heights were knobbed with gravemounds
Hundreds and hundreds
Of hundreds and hundreds all brought down to nought.

Thousands of thousands of thousands of years from now
What will a good name count for? Nothing at all

My lady comes of knightly race;
Her forbears oft on many a field,
Ere arms to merchandise gave place,
With life's best drops their honor sealed.
She beareth lilies on her shield,
The flower de luce is her device;
And on the roll of her degree
Crosses are blazoned twice and thrice.

Some served their king on foreign strands;
One yeoman fell to make us free;
One, at his country's high commands,
Helped build the country that you see:
What wonder that his child to me
Seems of that life a precious part,

I am growing old
In the shadow of death
My admiration goes to the waves
That come from the same source
to flow in different ways
Life is not worthy of mention
Yet hate and enmity have been my tribulation.
Do I really have adversaries?
Or are my sensitive ears deceiving my eyes?
Vision and hearing are both waning.
But malice against me is still waxing
I shall call on my Taoist friends;
Together we shall go on a journey.

A cat's wife —
grown thin from
love and barley?

Budding her dreams and budding her bosom,
Yet, betimes, when she smiled,
I saw the heart of the Woman blossom
Red in the heart of the Child.

I'm weary — weary — let me go!
For now the pulse of life declineth;
My spirit chides its lingering flow,
For her immortal life she pineth.

I feel the chill night-shadows fall;
The sleep steals on that knows no waking;
Yet well I hear blest voices call,
And bright above the day is breaking.

Not now the purple and the gold
Of trailing clouds at sunset glowing,
These dim and fading eyes behold;
But splendors from the Godhead flowing.

'Tis not the crimson orient beam,

Day and night
Revolve,
While my face wrinkles
And my spirit wanes,
But the sight of injustice still pains me.
One change induces another
That cannot be dealt with by tact or wit
The cycle goes on for ever.
I only fear that in a moment
Life will disperse in the wind.
I have always trodden on thin ice.
Yet no one knows!

Inscribe on your heart
Every inch of the time at sunset.
Adjust your sleeves, unsheathe a slender sword,
And look up at the passing clouds
Among them a dark stork
Raises its head and rattles its beak.
Darting aloft, it vanishes into the sky
Never again will it be heard
It is no company for the cuckoos and the crows
That circle round the Court.

The sea darkening —
the voice of a wild duck
faintly white.

Weird dances are performed in the north street
And near the river decadent songs are heard.
These flighty, leisured youths,
Enslaved by fads and fashions,
Always take a short cut
To sensual pleasure.
I see no one racing against the sun
Or turning his staff into a forest.
The recipe for a long life
Alone calms my heart.