Author: 孤筝(lvbowen040427@163.com)

“I have a dream that one day, the brilliant sunlight will pierce through the dark forest.”

But here, the sun was setting, now only revealing the tip of its crown above the distant mountains, like a dazzling gem embedded in the peaks. The child had already run far ahead, bathed together with the grassland in the golden hues of twilight.

The sun is about to set, and your child isn’t afraid?

“Of course not. She knows the sun will rise again tomorrow.”

Good night.

Published on 2024-09-09 at 孤筝の温暖小家, last modified on 2024-09-09

All articles on this blog are licensed under the BY-NC-SA license agreement unless otherwise stated. Please indicate the source when reprinting!

Author: 孤筝(lvbowen040427@163.com)

You stand on the bridge to gaze at the view,
While someone watches you from a tower.
The bright moon adorns your window,
And you adorn another’s dream.

— Fragment by Bian Zhilin

How I wish for a doorway,
Where morning sunlight falls on the grass.
We stand there, leaning against the door,
Low as it is, the sun shines bright.
The grass sows its seeds, the wind shakes the leaves,
We stand, silent, and it is enough.

— Gu Cheng, A Generation, Avoidance, Before the Door

Spring sorrow waits for wine to drown,
Boats rock on the river, curtains beckon from towers.
Time slips away too soon—
Cherries redden, bananas green.

— A Twig of Mume Blossoms by Jiang Jie

From now on, I care not for fine nights,
Let the bright moon sink west without me.

— Writing Emotion by Li Yi

The hills have trees, and trees have branches,
My heart adores you, but you do not know.

— Song of the Yue Boatman, Anonymous

The carved die inlaid with red beans—
Deep in my bones, do you know this longing?

— New Lyrics to Willow Branches by Wen Tingyun

A crane’s shadow crosses the cold pond,
The frigid moon buries the flower’s soul.

— Dream of the Red Chamber

Though knowing this love brings no good,
I can’t help but ache with tender madness.

— Li Shangyin

What the world holds least firm—
Youth fades like flowers from the mirror, from the tree.

— Butterfly in Love with Flowers by Wang Guowei

Not a flower, not a mist,
Coming at midnight, gone by dawn,
Like a spring dream—how long does it stay?
Like morning clouds—where does it drift?

— Not a Flower by Bai Juyi

Helpless before morning’s chill rain, evening’s wind—
Life’s long regrets flow east like endless rivers.

— Li Yu’s poetry

Drunk, I forget the sky mirrors the water,
A boatful of clear dreams presses down the Milky Way.

— Inscription on Longyang’s Green Grass Lake by Tang Wenru

Free petals drift light as dreams,
Endless drizzle fine as sorrow.

— Silk-Washing Stream by Qin Guan

In youth, I listened to rain in song-filled towers,
Red candles dim behind silk curtains.
In middle age, I listened to rain on a traveler’s boat,
Wide river, low clouds, lone goose crying in west wind.
Now I listen to rain beneath a temple’s eaves,
My hair already streaked with stars.
Joys and sorrows, partings and reunions—all unfeeling.
Let the raindrops on the steps fall till dawn.

— Listening to the Rain by Jiang Jie

The moon sets, crows cry, frost fills the sky,
River maples, fishing fires—sleeping in sorrow.

— Mooring by Maple Bridge at Night by Zhang Ji

That gentlest bow of your head,
Like a lotus flower shy of the cool breeze.

— By Chance, Sayonara by Xu Zhimo

If there is an afterlife, I’d be a tree,
Standing eternal, without joy or sorrow.
Half rooted in earth, serene,
Half dancing in the wind;
Half offering shade,
Half basking in sunlight.
Silent, proud,
Never leaning, never seeking.

— If There Is an Afterlife by Sanmao

So I open the yellowed title page,
Fate bound it clumsily.
Tearfully, I read it again and again,
Yet must admit—
Youth is a book too hastily written.

— Youth by Xi Murong

Let life be beautiful like summer flowers,
And death like autumn leaves.

The world has kissed my soul with its pain,
Asking for its return in songs.

Only through the grind of hell
Can one forge the power to create heaven;
Only fingers bleeding from the strings
Can play the world’s most haunting music.

When you weep for missing the sun,
You also miss the stars.

The sky leaves no trace of wings,
But I have flown.

My eyes rain for her,
But my heart holds an umbrella—
This is love.

— Stray Birds, Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore

White sun, scattered clouds—startled apart,
Beneath the flowers, no one speaks of idleness.

— Floating Life by Gu Zhe

Ten miles of flat lake, frost-filled sky,
Each inch of dark hair grieves fleeting youth.
Gazing alone at the moon, longing for care,
I envy not immortals, but lovebirds paired.

— From the film A Chinese Ghost Story

Morning breezes will still brush my face,
Cuckoos will still sing on branches,
Earth will still breathe its fragrance,
Red maples will still flutter and fade.
I choose to believe, as ever,
That amid life’s cold ashes,
Remembering all about you
Was always my lifelong sorrow.

— Zhang Hansi, Abnormal Human Syndromes (Léont Blanc)

Octopus pot—
A fleeting dream
Under the summer moon.

— Matsuo Bashō

Flower shadows sway—
I long to tread them,
Moonlit crags ahead.

— Hara Sekitei

Grass in haze,
Water soundless—
Dusk falls.

— Yosa Buson

A lone horse, dust-stained,
A thousand peaks at dawn and dusk.
Gazing far where the sunset fades,
I linger toward distant hills.
Old post-station flowers by the road,
A wild village, bamboo fences aglow.
Who pities my backward glance,
Step by step, longing for southern boughs?

— Staying Late at Bamboo Lodge, Remembering Past Travels in Ganyue by Liu Changqing (Tang Dynasty)

Published on 2022-09-16 at 孤筝の温暖小家, last modified on 2022-09-16

All articles on this blog are licensed under the BY-NC-SA license agreement unless otherwise stated. Please indicate the source when reprinting!

Author: 孤筝(lvbowen040427@163.com)

Prelude

In realms primordial who played the lover?
None but the breeze and moon enchanted me.
So now I seize these days of dark spring weather
To ease my heart by writing this poor story.
Hence this Dream of Golden Days,
This lament for my golden girls.

[Life’s Mistakes]

They keep saying this golden match is blest,
Yet I recall the pledge between plant and stone.
Vainly I face this snow of classic purity,
Still can’t forget that fairy wood forlorn.
Now I know the fairest bloom is the most fragile,
And trust no more the love that’s pledged in vain.
Though we seem paired as phoenixes in life,
My heart to the end remains unfulfilled.
(Daiyu, Baochai)

[Vain Longing]

One is a flower from paradise,
One a pure jade without spot or stain.
If one is not fated to be his bride,
Why did she meet him again in this life?
If one is fated to be his bride,
Why does her love come to nothing in the end?
One sighs to no purpose,
The other yearns in vain;
One is the moon reflected in the water,
The other but a flower in the mirror.
How many tears can well from her eyes?
Can they flow on from autumn till winter,
From spring till summer?
(Daiyu, Baoyu)

[Death’s Uncertainty]

In the full bloom of fortune,
Death comes unexpected.
With staring eyes,
She abandons all worldly affairs.
Drifting, drifting,
Her fragrant soul is spent.
Gazing toward home,
Mountains and rivers bar the way.
In dreams she tells her parents:
“Your child has gone to the Yellow Spring.
O kinsmen,
Retreat before it is too late!”
(Yuanchun)

[Separation of Flesh and Bone]

Three thousand li the wind and waves have blown
Me far from home and all my kin.
Lest grief should wear my parents out,
I beg them not to mourn for me.
Since poverty and riches are decreed,
Partings and reunions are fated too.
Though from today we dwell apart,
Be comforted and live at peace.
I must go now —
Do not grieve for me!
(Tanchun)

[False Love]

A wolf in the hills, a savage beast,
He thinks nothing of past obligations.
Proud, lewd and cruel, he schemes for his base lusts.
He looks on a gentle beauty as a willow,
Tramples a noble family’s daughter in the mud.
Alas, her sweet soul in a year has fled.
(Yingchun)

[Hard to Escape the World]

Her beauty is rare as an orchid,
Her talents supreme as an immortal.
Heaven made her eccentric,
Too proud to take meat as food,
Disdaining silk and satin.
But the higher the rank, the greater the envy;
The purer her chastity, the sharper the spite.
Alas, in dim-lit halls she will grow old,
Missing the splendour of crimson towers,
Till she falls at last into the mire.
Pure white jade sunk in the filth —
No need for lords to sigh at her fate.
(Miaoyu)

[Grief in the Midst of Joy]

While still in swaddling clothes
She lost her parents,
And though born to silken luxury
No one spoiled her.
Happy her nature, open-hearted and generous,
Never a slave to love’s foolish passion,
She shone like moonlight on jade halls.
She was wed to a talented, handsome husband,
Hoping for long life together
To make up for her wretched childhood.
Yet soon the clouds scatter over Chu Gorge,
The river dries up in the land of streams.
This is the common fate of mortals —
Why vainly grieve?
(Xiangyun)

[The Vanity of Spring]

She sees through the three springs,
What use are peach and plum?
She quenches the fire of youth
To seek pure calm.
What though the heavenly peach blooms fair,
The clouds are thick with almond flowers?
In the end, who can escape autumn?
See there,
In the village of white poplars
People weep,
And ghosts chant under green maples.
Grave mounds are lost in rank weeds.
The rich of yesterday are poor today,
Spring’s flowers wither in fall.
Who can escape the doom of birth and death?
They say
In the Western Paradise
The sacred trees bear fruit of immortality.
(Xichun)

[Too Much Cunning]

Too much cunning in plotting and scheming,
Too much cunning brings your life to nothing.
Your heart is broken in life,
Your ghost in death must wander.
A rich house, a peaceful home —
In the end all is scattered.
Vain your anxious planning for half a lifetime,
Like a fitful dream at dead of night.
Suddenly the great mansion totters,
The lamp flickers in the wind.
Ah! Joy turns to sorrow,
Human life is hard to predict.
(Xifeng)

[Leftover Blessings]

Leftover blessings, leftover blessings,
Unexpectedly she meets a saviour.
Lucky her mother, lucky her mother,
Who stored up virtue.
Exhort all men to succour the poor and needy,
Not like that heartless uncle and cousin who loved silver
And forgot their own flesh and blood!
For fate has its reckonings,
And Heaven its way.
(Qiaojie)

[The End of Good Fortune]

Fragrant dust falls when painted beams crumble.
Seductive charms and beauty
Brought the house to ruin.
The fault began with Jing,
The guilt lies first with Ning —
But all sins spring from lust.
(Qin Keqing)

[Late Glory]

Love in the mirror gone,
How can fame in dreams endure?
Her glorious youth sped fast!
No more the nuptial bed.
Her pearl crown and phoenix cape
Cannot avert the doom of death.
Proudly she wears her hairpin of office,
Proudly she wears her hairpin of office;
Brightly her golden badge of honour,
Splendid her noble rank,
Splendid her noble rank —
But dark the road to the Yellow Spring.
Ask of ancient generals and ministers —
Are any left?
Only an empty name for men to praise.
(Li Wan)

[Epilogue: Each Bird Flies Back to Its Wood]

The office-holder’s wealth is all spent. (Xiangyun)
The rich man’s family is completely ruined. (Baochai)
The kind escape with their lives. (Qiaojie)
The cruel meet with retribution. (Miaoyu)
Those who took a life have paid with their own. (Yingchun)
The tears one owed have all been shed. (Daiyu)
Not light the retribution for sins. (Qin Keqing)
Partings and reunions are predestined. (Tanchun)
To know your fate, ask about your past life. (Yuanchun)
Luck comes with old age. (Li Wan)
The disillusioned escape from the world. (Xichun)
The infatuated throw away their lives. (Xifeng)
Like birds who, having eaten, fly back to the wood,
Leaving the landscape white and desolate.

Author’s Origin

At the point of saddest passion,
The absurd seems most pitiful.
All men share the same dream,
Laugh not at the world’s folly!

Author’s Inscription

Pages full of idle words,
Penned with hot and bitter tears.
All men call the author mad,
None his secret message hears.

Commentary on the “Song of Good Fortune”

Mean huts and empty halls
Where once were beds of state;
Dry grass and withered weeds
Where once were flowers in bloom.
Cobwebs hang from carved rafters,
While gauze now covers the window.
What though rouge and powder were fresh,
Now white locks hang at the temples?
Yesterday yellow earth received white bones,
Today red lanterns light the love-birds’ nest.
Gold fills the chests, silver the boxes,
But soon all turn to beggars, scoffed at by all.
While mourning others’ untimely death,
You may die yourself unawares.
Though you give your son good training,
He may turn out a brigand.
Choosing a fine husband for your daughter,
She may end as a singsong girl.
Too low a rank invites disgrace,
Too much wealth may bring ruin.
Yesterday in rags you shivered with cold,
Today in purple robes you fret at the confinement.
All is confusion as one act ends, another starts;
Mistaking the transient for the eternal,
How absurd in the end
To slave for others!

Linjiangxian - Baochai

Before white marble halls
Spring dances in the breeze,
Evenly wafted by the east wind.
Bees and butterflies flit in swarms —
Why drift away with the stream?
Why sink in the dust?
Thousands of strands remain unchanged,
Let them join or part as they will.
Laugh not at these flowers rootless,
But borrow their power to soar on high!

Xijiangyue - Baoqin

The Han garden’s blooms are few,
The Sui Dyke’s willows endless.
Spring’s work is left to the east wind,
Moonlight and mume-blossoms a dream.
In how many courtyards petals lie scattered?
Whose gauze curtains breathe fragrance?
North and south of the river it is the same —
Only the parting grieves.

Mid-Autumn Festival Couplets

On mid-autumn’s festive night
We roam as at the Feast of Lanterns.
The sky is strewn with stars,
The earth with music loud.
In many homes goblets fly,
No doors are closed.
The light wind blows chilly,
The fine night is merry.
Old men mock at cake-fighters,
Young girls laugh at melon-carvers.
Fragrant cassia blooms,
Golden day-lilies flourish.
Candles light the feast,
Wine-cups crowd the garden.
Teams are formed for forfeits,
Guessing games played.
Dice throw crimson spots,
Drums pass flowers fast.
Clear light fills the courtyard,
Silver bathes the world.
No guests outrank hosts,
Poems are judged by all.
Some muse by the balustrade,
Some watch from the door.
Though wine is finished,
The fun is not over.
As talk and laughter fade,
Frost leaves its traces.
Dew beads morning mushrooms,
Mist veils evening trees.
Swift autumn streams gush,
Wind-blown leaves gather.
The Weaving Maid shines pure,
The Silver Toad breathes deep.
The hare in the moon pounds herbs,
Men race to the Palace of the Moon.
They pass the stars in the Dipper,
Ride a raft to the Celestial River.
The full moon may wane,
The bright orb may dim.
The water-clock drips dry,
The lamp by the window gutters.
A stork’s shadow crosses cold pool,
Cold moon buries flowers’ souls.
Incense from the golden tripod spent,
Ice chills the jade bowl.
The flute makes the widow weep,
The quilt warms the maid.
The phoenix curtain hangs idle,
The peacock screen folded.
Dew thick, moss grows slippery,
Frost heavy, bamboos hard to grasp.
Still we skirt winding pools,
Climb the silent hill.
Strange rocks crouch like monsters,
Gnarled trees crouch like tigers.
The tortoise glows in morning light,
The screen glistens with dew.
Birds in thousands of trees call,
Apes in the valley shriek.
Familiar with the path, we forget its turns,
Knowing the source, we need not ask.
Bells chime from Green Lattice Nunnery,
Cocks crow in Paddy-Sweet Cottage.
Joy may lead to sorrow,
Freedom from care to vexation.
Sweet fancies must be indulged alone,
To whom tell our refined delight?
All night we talk,
Brew tea and analyze.

Published on 2022-09-09 at 孤筝の温暖小家, last modified on 2022-09-09

All articles on this blog are licensed under the BY-NC-SA license agreement unless otherwise stated. Please indicate the source when reprinting!