A Hundred and Seventy Chinese PoemsI suddenly remember the distance that I must travel; I spring from bed and look out to see the time.
The stars and planets are all grown dim in the sky; Long, long is the road; I cannot stay.
I am going on service, away to the battle-ground, And I do not know when I shall come back.
I hold your hand with only a deep sigh; Afterwards, tears--in the days when we are parted.
With all your might enjoy the spring flowers, But do not forget the time of our love and pride.
Know that if I live, I will come back again, And if I die, we will go on thinking of each other.
LI LING
(Parting from Su Wu)
The good time will never come back again: In a moment,--our parting will be over.
Anxiously--we halt at the road-side, Hesitating--we embrace where the fields begin.
The clouds above are floating across the sky: Swiftly, swiftly pa.s.sing: or blending together.
The waves in the wind lose their fixed place And are rolled away each to a corner of Heaven.
From now onwards--long must be our parting.
So let us stop again for a little while.
I wish I could ride on the wings of the morning wind And go with you right to your journey's end.
Li Ling and Su Wu were both prisoners in the land of the Huns. After nineteen years Su Wu was released. Li Ling would not go back with him.
When invited to do so, he got up and danced, singing:
I came ten thousand leagues Across sandy deserts In the service of my Prince, To break the Hun tribes.
My way was blocked and barred, My arrows and sword broken.
My armies had faded away, My reputation had gone.
My old mother is long dead.
Although I want to requite my Prince How can I return?
LAMENT OF HSI-CHuN
About the year 110 B.C. a Chinese Princess named Hsi-chun was sent, for political reasons, to be the wife of a central Asian nomad king, K'un Mo, king of the Wu-sun. When she got there, she found her husband old and decrepit. He only saw her once or twice a year, when they drank a cup of wine together. They could not converse, as they had no language in common.
My people have married me In a far corner of Earth: Sent me away to a strange land, To the king of the Wu-sun.
A tent is my house, Of felt are my walls; Raw flesh my food With mare's milk to drink.
Always thinking of my own country, My heart sad within.
Would I were a yellow stork And could fly to my old home!
CH'IN CHIA
Ch'in Chia (first century A.D.) was summoned to take up an appointment at the capital at a time when his wife was ill and staying with her parents. He was therefore unable to say goodbye to her, and sent her three poems instead. This is the last of the three.
Solemn, solemn the coachman gets ready to go: "Chiang, chiang" the harness bells ring.
At break of dawn I must start on my long journey: At c.o.c.k-crow I must gird on my belt.
I turn back and look at the empty room: For a moment I almost think I see you there.
One parting, but ten thousand regrets: As I take my seat, my heart is unquiet.
What shall I do to tell you all my thoughts?
How can I let you know of all my love?
Precious hairpins make the head to shine And bright mirrors can reflect beauty.
Fragrant herbs banish evil smells And the scholar's harp has a clear note.
The man in the Book of Odes[18] who was given a quince Wanted to pay it back with diamonds and rubies.
When I think of all the things you have done for me, How ashamed I am to have done so little for you!
Although I know that it is a poor return, All I can give you is this description of my feelings.
[18] Odes, v, 10.
CH'IN CHIA'S WIFE'S REPLY
My poor body is alas unworthy: I was ill when first you brought me home.
Limp and weary in the house-- Time pa.s.sed and I got no better.
We could hardly ever see each other: I could not serve you as I ought.
Then you received the Imperial Mandate: You were ordered to go far away to the City.
Long, long must be our parting: I was not destined to tell you my thoughts.
I stood on tiptoe gazing into the distance, Interminably gazing at the road that had taken you.
With thoughts of you my mind is obsessed: In my dreams I see the light of your face.
Now you are started on your long journey Each day brings you further from me.
Oh that I had a bird's wings And high flying could follow you.
Long I sob and long I cry: The tears fall down and wet my skirt.
SONG
By Sung Tzu-hou (second century A.D.)
On the Eastern Way at the city of Lo-yang At the edge of the road peach-trees and plum-trees grow; On the two sides,--flower matched by flower; Across the road,--leaf touching leaf.
A spring wind rises from the north-east; Flowers and leaves gently nod and sway.
Up the road somebody's daughter comes Carrying a basket, to gather silkworms' food.
(_She sees the fruit trees in blossom and, forgetting about her silkworms, begins to pluck the branches._)
With her slender hand she breaks a branch from the tree; The flowers fall, tossed and scattered in the wind.
_The tree says:_
"Lovely lady, I never did you harm; Why should you hate me and do me injury?"
_The lady answers:_
"At high autumn in the eighth and ninth moons When the white dew changes to h.o.a.r-frost, At the year's end the wind would have lashed your boughs, Your sweet fragrance could not have lasted long.
Though in the autumn your leaves patter to the ground, When spring comes, your gay bloom returns.