by Li He
His book-basket was woven.
Short bamboo-slips, all of a length,
Like Buddhist texts.
His flashing strength, his precious ore,
Offered to Spring Officials.5
He skimmed the waves beneath the mist,
Riding a single leaf.6
The Spring Officials garner talent
Wherever the white sun shines,
But threw away this yellow gold,
Let slip this dragon horse.
So satchel in hand, here turned to the River,
Back through his gates,
Weary and worn—yet who was there
To give him sympathy?
I hear a brave man always treasures
His heart and his bones.
Three times that ancient ran away,
Yet never lost his head.7
I beg you now to wait till dawn
Before you ply your whip.
Your carriage will come back one day
To the tune of autumn pipes.8
Expressing My Feelings
1
Chang-qing1 was deep in thought at Mao-ling,
Where emerald grasses dropped by a stone well.
As he played his zither, he watched Wen-jun,
The spring breeze stirring her shadow-dappling hair.
The Prince of Liang and Emperor Wu
Had cast him aside like a snapped-off flower.2
All that he left was a single memorial,
Buried in liquid gold on top of Mount Tai.3
2
At dusk, when I have done with writing,
Surprised by frost, my white silk starts to fall.4
I laugh at myself in the mirror for a while,
How can I live as long as the Southern Hill?
I wear not urban wrapped around my head,5
The bitter-cork has already dyed my clothes.6
Cannot you see the fish in the clear stream
That drink its water and do just as they please?
Written after the Style of a Poem by Liu Yun
To an islet where white duck weed grows,
Liu Yun comes home, riding upon his horse.
The head of the river is fragrant with quince,
Over its shores butterflies flutter about.
Wine in the cups like dew from bamboo-leaves,
Her jade-pegged lute of hollow paulownia from Shu.1
A waterway runs past the scarlet tower,2
Where the sand is warm, you’ll find a pair of fish.3
Song of the Sword of the Collator in the Spring Office
Elder, within your casket glints
Three feet of water,1
That once plunged into a lake in Wu
To behead a dragon.2
A slash of brightly slanting moonlight,
Polished, cold dew.
A slash of white satin, smooth and level,
Unruffled by wind.
Its hilt of ancient shark-womb skin
Bristles with caltrops,3
Damasked blade, tempered with sea-bird’s grease,
A white pheasant’s tail.
It is, in short, a sliver
Of Jing Ke’s heart.4
May it never shine on the characters
In the Spring Office!
Twisted sashes, whorls of gold
Hang from its hilt.
Its magic beams can cut clean through
A Blue-field jade.5
The West’s White King was struck with fear
When it was drawn,
His demon mother wailing loudly
In the autumn wilds.6
Song: A Nobleman at the End of the Night
Smoke of aloeswood curls and swirls,1
Crows cry the worn-out night.
Lotus among ripples in a curving pool—
White jades around the waist strike cold.2
Ballad of the Grand Warden of Goose Gate
Black clouds whelm on the city,
Till it seems the city must yield.
Our chain-mail glitters under the moon,
Metal scales agape.
Clangour of horns fills the sky
With colours of fall.
Beyond the frontiers, like rouge from Yan
Night’s purple congeals.
Our scarlet banners, half unfurled,
Withdraw to the river Yi,
So cold the drums, in the heavy frost,
Their sound is dulled.
We requite the king for his favours to us
At Yellow Gold Tower,1
Clutching our Dragons of Jade
We die for our lord.2
Song: Great Dike
In Heng-tang is my home,
Red, sendal curtains redolent with cassia.
Black clouds have taught me
To pile up my hair,
Bright moons have made me
Ear-rings of pearl.1
A lotus wind stirs
On the spring river-bank.
Down in Great Dike
Girls linger with northerners.
“You will eat tails of carp,
While I eat gibbons’ lips.”2
Oh, do not point to
The road to Xiang-yang!
Down the river’s green reaches
Few sails return.
Flowering sweet-flag today,
Withered maple tomorrow.
Music for Strings from Shu
Maples’ fragrance, twilight flowers are tranquil,1
In Brocade River, southern hills’ reflection,2
Fearsome rocks are falling, gibbons wailing,
Bamboos and clouds sadden half the peaks.
Cold moon rises over autumn shores,
Jade sand glistens through translucent waves.
Who is this girl shedding scarlet tears?
She cannot bear his journey through Qu-tang Gorge.3
Su Xiao Xiao’s Tomb
Dew upon lonely orchids
Like tear-brimmed eyes.
No twining of love-knots,
Mist-wreathed flowers I cannot bear to cut.
Grass for her cushions,
Pines for her awning,
Wind as her skirts,
Water as girdle-jades.
In her varnished carriage1
She is waiting at dusk.
Cold candles, kingfisher-green,
Weary with shining.2
Over the Western Grave-mound
Wind-blown rain. 3
A Dream of Heaven
The ancient hare, the shivering toad,1
Weep sky-blue tears,
The cloud-towers are half-revealed,
Walls slant and white.2
Jade wheel crushes the dew,
Wet globe of light,
Pendants of phoenix jade I meet
On cassia-scented roads.3
Now yellow dust, now clear water,
Below the Three Hills,4
Sudden the changes of a thousand years
As a galloping horse.
From far above, the Middle Kingdom
Is just nine wisps of cloud,5
All the clear waters of the sea
A spilt cup.
Song for the Boy Tang
Son of Du, Duke of Bin
Skull like jade, hard as stone,
Blue-black eyelashes.
Master Du has certainly begotten
A very fine boy.
Serious of face, pure of spirit,
A temple-vessel,1
With a pair of eyes that can see through men
Like autumn water.
His bamboo horse shakes its green tail
In the wind,2
On his short sleeves, simurghs of silver
Prance glittering.
His eastern neighbour’s pretty daughter
Is in search of a husband,
With a dazzling smile he writes on air
The character “Tang.”3
Ambitious eyes, a hero’s h
eart
Foretell his future,
May he never forget the man called Li
Who wrote this song!
Sealing up Green Prayers
A Sacrifice Performed at Night by the Taoist Master, Wu
The Blue Lion kowtows and calls
To the Palace Spirits.
With a fearful howl the Dog of Jade1
Opens Heaven’s gates.
Pomegranate-blossom in full bloom
Covers the ford.
Maidens bathe blossoms in the stream,
Dyeing white clouds.2
Sealing up the green prayers
We pray to the Primal Father.3
On the six highways horses’ hooves
Run wild and masterless.4
From an empty sky the wind’s breath comes,
Hot and impure.
Short robes and little hats
Huddle in dust.
In perfumed lanes of the Jin family,5
Noise of a thousand wheels,
But no one mentions the autumn rooms
Of poor Yang Xiang.6
I want to call up his bookish ghost
With a halberd of Han.7
May his rancorous bones not be interred
In a weed-grown grave!
Twelve Lyrics for Music on the Theme of the Twelve Months of the Year (together with an Intercalary Month) Composed While Taking the Examinations in Henan-fu.
First Moon
We climb a tower to greet the spring,
As spring returns newly,1
Smoky yellow mantles the willows,
The palace-clock drips slowly.2
A scant veil of lightest cloud
Stirs on the face of the wilds,
Through chill greens the desolate wind
Raises silk stubble.3
Asleep in her rich bed at dawn
Her jade flesh cool,
Her dewy lids, not yet in bloom,
Turned to dawn’s pallor.
You cannot yet cut willow-sashes
On the public roads,
When will the leaves of the sweet-flag
Belong enough to tie?4
Second Moon
Drinking wine in the second month
By Gather-mulberries ford.1
Day-lilies bloom there.
Smiling orchids too.
Like crossed swords the rushes,
Wind like incense,
Northern swallows, hard at work,
Chide the heightened spring.2
Curtains of roses in lingering mist
Gather green dust,3
Golden hairpins, high-piled tresses,
Shame the evening clouds,
With billowing dresses, they dance
In skirts of pearl.
They bid us farewell at the ferry
Singing “Water flows.”
The drunkards’ spines grow cold,
South Mountain dies.4
Third Moon
A wind comes blowing from the east,
Filling our eyes with spring,
Willows darken in this city of blossoms,
Breaking our hearts.
Through deep halls of the storied palace
Stirs a bamboo breeze,
We dance in new collars of emerald-green,
Translucent as water.
A sunny wind bends the melilotus
Over a hundred leagues,1
A genial mist urges on the clouds,
Caressing heaven and earth.
Adorned like warriors, palace-girls
Closely brush on their brows,2
Embroidered banners wave their state
Along the warm, walled road.3
The wind-borne fragrance wafts away
Across the Serpentine,4
Pear-blossom scattered everywhere
Brings autumn to the park.5
Fourth Moon
Cool at dawn and cool at dusk,
Trees like a canopy,
A thousand hills of darkest emerald
Beyond the clouds.
Vaguely a scented rain is falling
Through a haze of green,1
Glossy leaves and curls of blossom
Shining through side-gates.
Water in its golden pools,
Jade-green ripples trembling.
Vistas heavy with aging spring,
No startled petals fly.
Faded pinks and fallen calyx
Dappled in the shade.
Fifth Moon
Carved jade heavy on screen-lintels,
Light gauze veils the open gates.
From leaden wells we draw the flowering water,1
Our fans ornate with mandarin ducks and drakes.2
Whirling snow dances through the Hall of Coolness,3
Sweet dew washes the emerald air,
Silken sleeves are wheeling and hovering,
The fragrant sweat that soaks them, jewels of grain.4
Sixth Moon
We snip raw silk,
Hew speckled bamboo,
Sleeveless robes dusted with light frost,
Mats of autumn jade.1
A flame-red mirror opens in the east,
A haloed cartwheel journeying on high,
With a roar of flames comes the Scarlet Emperor2
Riding his dragons.
Seventh Moon
Cold glint of starlight round the Cloudy Island,1
Upon the plate the beaded dew-drops fall.2
Fine flowers are born out of the tips of the twigs,3
Deserted gardens grieve for dying orchids.
The night-sky turns to terraces of jade,4
Leaves in the lotus-pool, numberless, green coins.
Vexed at the thinness of her dancing-gown
She feels a chill creep through her flowery mat.
A wind wakes sighing just at break of day,
The Northern Dipper glitters down the heavens.
Eighth Moon
The widowed wife must dread these weary nights,
The lonely traveller dreams he’s back at home.1
Beside the eaves insects twist their silk,2
Along the wall a lamp lets fall its flowers.3
Outside the screens, the room exhales its light,
Inside the screens, slant shadows of the trees.
Leisurely flies the dew in loveliness,
Adorning even the lotus in its pool.
Ninth Moon
In the summer palace scattered fireflies—
A sky like water.
Bamboos turn yellow, pools grow chill,
The lotus dies.
Moonlight glints on golden door-rings,
Purposeful beams.1
Above cold gardens, deserted courtyards,
A limpid, white void.
Flowers of dew are flying, flying
On an unhurried wind.2
Kingfisher brocades in gorgeous hues
Strewn along galleries.3
The Cock-herald chants no longer—
Refulgence of dawn!4
Ravens cry by the brazen well
As kola-leaves flutter down.5
Tenth Moon
The jade vase with its silver arrows
Can scarcely pour,1
Lamp-flowers smile upon the night
Where light and dark congeal.2
Slivers of frost dance slantingly
Across gauze curtains,
Two rows of candle-dragons shine3
In her winged pavilion.4
She lies resentful in her net of pearls,
Unable to sleep,
Beneath a robe ornate with golden phoenix
Her body is chill,
She stares at the moon, her long brows
Vie with its curved jade. 5
Eleventh Moon
The palace walls lie coiled and shivering,1
In the cold, stark light.
The white sky, shattered in pieces,
Drops diamantine fragrance.2
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Strike the bells! Drink your fill
Of this thousand-day wine!3
Fight to conquer the freezing cold!
Quaff the lord’s health!
The royal canal is locked in ice,
Like a circle of silk.
Where is the Well of Fire?
Where are the Warm Springs?4
Twelfth Moon
From the sun’s feet a wan light1
Is shining redly.
The thin frost does not melt at all
Beneath the cassia branches.
Rarely a warmer air will try to banish
The bitter winter.
For now we run to longer days—
Farewell to the long nights.
Intercalary Month
When emperors display their glory,
The years display their due seasons.
Seventy-two periods wheel about
Urging each other on.1
From the astronomer’s jade tubes
The ashes fly.2
Why must this year be so long,
The coming year so late?
The Western Mother plucks her peaches,
To give to the Emperor.3
Xi and He let their bridled dragons
Go far astray.4
A Ballad of Heaven
The River of Heaven wheels round at night
Drifting the circling stars,
At Silver Bank, the floating clouds
Mimic the murmur of water. 1
By the Palace of Jade the cassia blossoms
Have not yet fallen,
Fairy maidens gather their fragrance
For their dangling girdle-sachets.2
The Princess from Qin rolls up her blinds,
Dawn at the north casement.3
In front of the window, a planted kolanut
Dwarfs the blue phoenix.
The King’s son plays his pipes
Long as goose-quills,4
Summoning dragons to plough the mist
And plant Jade Grass.5
Sashes of pink as clouds at dawn.
Skirts of lotus-root silk,
They walk on Blue Island,6 gathering
Fresh orchids in spring.
She points to Xi He in the east,
Deftly urging his steeds,
