Living in the Hills
In calm loneliness I shut my door
Against the whole afterglowing sky
Cranes are nesting in all the pines
No visitors at my wicket gate
Tender bamboos with the new bloom on them
Red lotuses shed of ther old garments
A lamp shines out at the ford
Water-chestnut pickers come home.
Drifting on the Lake
The autumn sky is clear into the distance
The clearer so far from human habitation
On a sandy shore a crane, or beyond clouds
A mountain top makes my content
The limpid ripples calm and evening comes
The moon shines out and I relax
Tonight my single oar takes over
As I drift without thought of going back.
Return to Mount Sung
The river ran clear between luxuriant banks
And my carriage jogged along on its way
And the water seemed to flow with a purpose
And in the evening the birds went back together—
Desolate town confronting an old ford
Setting sun filling the autumn hills
After a long journey, sat the foot of Mount Sung
I have come home and shut my door.
Written in my Country Garden in Spring
On my roof spring pigeons call
And round the village almond trees bloom white
Men take axes to cut the high branches
Shoulder hoes to inspect the conduits
Returning swallows know their old nests
The old resident scans the new calendar
About to drink I suddenly hold my hand
With a pang for a friend on a far journey
____________________
Wang Wei (A.D. 699-761)
Poems
translated by G.W. Robinson
Penguin 1973
I'm always reading Wang Wei
