by Li He
While land begins to rise from the sea
And stone hills wear away.7
A Wild Song
The south wind blows upon the mountains,
Levelling them flat,1
God sends Tian Wu to sweep away
The waters of the sea.2
As the Queen Mother’s peach-blossoms redden again
The thousandth time,
How often have Grandfather Peng and Wizard Xian
Come to their deaths?3
The blue-black hair of my piebald horse
Dappled with coins,
Willows of the graceful spring
Wreathed in light mist.
A girl with a zither coaxing me
To a golden goblet,
Before blood and spirit had yet congealed,
Who then was I?4
No point in drinking ocean-deep,
Or singing mournful songs,5
The finest men in this world of ours
Have owned no master.
Let me buy silk to embroider the image
Of the Lord of Ping-yuan.6
And then pour out a libation of wine
On the soil of Zhao.7
Hurrying drops of the water-dock
Choke the jade toad,8
The Wei girl’s tresses grow so thin
She cannot bear the comb.9
Since autumn eyebrows in an instant
Replace fresh green!
Why must a lad of twenty
Fret life away?10
Coming of Autumn
Wind in the plane-trees startles my heart
To a man’s bitter grief
In guttering lamplight, spinners cry
Their cold, white silk.1
Who will ever read these slips
Of green bamboo,2
Or forbid the ornate worm3
To pierce its powdery holes?
Such thoughts tonight must disentwine
My knotted heart.
In the cold rain comes a fragrant spirit4
To console this poet.
On autumn graves the ghosts sit chanting
That poem of Bao’s5
A thousand years in earth makes emerald jade
That rancorous blood.6
Song to the Goddess
Bright moon light over Dong-ting lake
A thousand leagues around.
In the chill wind wild geese are crying,
Heaven within the water
Nine-jointed calamus lies dead
Upon the stones.1
Spirits of Xiang are playing their lutes,
To welcome the Goddess.
On the mountain-top, old cinnamon-trees
Waft antique scent.
A Dragon Lady chants her sorrow,
Water glints cold.
By the sandy shores where fishes swim
The Lord of White Stone2
Idly casts a precious pearl
To the dragon-hall.
The King of Qin Drinks Wine
Straddling a tiger, the King of Qin
Roams the Eight Poles,1
His glittering sword lights up the sky,
Heaven turns sapphire.2
Xi and He whip up the sun3
With the sound of glass,
The ashes of kalpas have flown away,
Past and present at peace.4
From a dragon’s head spouts wine
Inviting the Wine-Stars,5
All night the gold-groove zithers
Twang and sing.6
The feet of rain on Dong-ting lake
Come blown on the pipes.7
Flushed with wine, he shouts at the moon—
It runs back in its course.
Beneath dense drifts of silver clouds
The jasper hall glows.
The Keepers of the Palace Gate
Cry out the first watch.
In the ornate tower, a jade phoenix sings,
Faltering and sweet.8
From ocean-pongee, patterned in crimson,
A faint, cool scent.9
The yellow beauties reel in their dance.
A thousand years with each cup!10
As fairy candle sticks waft on high11
A light, waxy smoke,
Eyes rapt with wine, those Emerald Lutes12
Shed seas of tears.
Pearl—A Luo-yang Beauty
My Lady Pearl came down to earth
From the blue void.1
To a Luo-yang park on a scented wind
She flew slowly down.
Hairpins aslant in her cool tresses,
Sheen of jade swallows,2
Singing to the moon in her tall tower,
Beating time on a pendant.
Orchid breezes and cassia dew
Sprinkle dark, blue leaves.
Red-string music writes to the clouds,
As she sobs out her grief.3
Flowered jacket and white horse—
He has not come back.
Dark moth-eyebrows, double willows,
Lips fragrant with wine.4
Gold geese screen her from the wind,
She dreams of Shu mountain,5
Simurgh skirt and phoenix sash
Heavy with mist.6
As sunlight dazzles at all eight windows,
Her eyelids stir.
Rays of the setting sun are pouring
Through gauzy curtains.
“In the gay quarters, south of the city,
The fall is not cold.7
Waists of Chu, hair-styles of Wei,
Fragrant all year.
Crystal voices from throats of jade
Brush the lights of heaven.
Pulling at clouds, tugging at snow,
They detain Master Lu.”8
The Lady Li
Where the Purple Emperor’s halls and towers
Rear their storeyed heights,1
Among those towers of chalcedony
The Lady has flown away.
When will the emerald incense fade
From her broidered hangings?
Blue, so blue and lustreless the clouds
Over sobbing palace waters.
Cassia flowers come fluttering down
From the autumn moon.
The lonely simurgh gives a startled cry,
As a shang note sounds from the strings.2
On the scarlet walls hang girdle-gems of jade,
Abandoned now.
Singing in the tower, the dancing-girls
Gaze into the distance.3
From out of the Jade Toad water drips,
The Cock-herald chants.4
Dewy flowers and orchid leaves
In dazzling disarray.5
Song of the Horseman
I left my village with a sword
Whose edge of jade could shear a cloud.
Among the horsemen of Xiang-yang,1
My spirits were as spring itself
At dawn I grieved the sword’s fair blade was clean,
At dusk I grieved the sword’s bright gleam was cold.2
I hold a sword that’s meant for other men:
A sword is not conducive to reflection.
The Royal Ladies of the Xiang
Spotted bamboo lasts a thousand years,
Growing old, yet not dying.
Antique companion of these spirit ladies
It covers Xiang’s waters.
Southern maidens’ singing and playing
Fill the cold sky.1
On the Nine Mountains, tranquil and green,
Red-tear flowers.2
Departure of simurgh, farewell of phoenix,
In mist-hung Cang-wu,3
Clouds of Wu and rain of Shu,
Love reaching afar. 4
Drearily, sadly, the spirit of autumn
Mounts the green maples.5
In the icy night among those waves,
The ancient dragon roars.
Thirteen Poems from My Southern Gar
den
1
Budding branches, stems of flowers,
Blossom while I watch.
Touched with white and streaked with crimson—
Cheeks of a girl from Yue,1
Sad to say, once dusk has come,
Their wanton fragrance falls.
They have eloped with the spring wind,
Without a go-between.2
2
North of the palace over the furrows
Full flush of dawn,3
Yellow mulberries, drinking dew,
Rustle on palace blinds.
Tall girls, sturdy girls stealthily
Breaking branches,
Feeding the eight-fold silkworms,
Of the King of Wu.4
3
The spinner in the bamboos
Turns his spinning wheel.5
A green cicada sings alone
In the setting sun.
Amber fragrant, peach-tree sap
Welcomes the summer,
I order my native gardener
To plant out melons. 6
4
“Not yet thirty but still turned twenty,
Hungry in bright sunshine, living on leaves.
Old man on the bridge! Feel sorry for me
And give me a book on the art of war!”7
5
Why shouldn’t a young man wear a Wu sword?8
He could win back fifty provinces in pass and mountain,9
I wish you would visit the Ling-yan pavilion,10
How can a student ever become a rich marquis?11
6
Seeking a style, culling my phrases,
Grown old carving grubs!
At dawn the moon hangs in my blinds,
A bow of jade.
Can’t you see what is going on, year after year,
By the sea of Liao-dong?
Whatever can a writer do
But weep in the autumn wind?12
7
Chang-qing was lonely and wretched
In his empty house.13
Man-chian was always joking—
Too anxious to please.14
Better to go and buy a sword
From Ruo-ye river,15
Come back at dawn next day to serve
The Monkey Duke.16
8
First flush of waters,
Swallows with fledglings flying.
Small-tailed yellow bees come home
From flying round the flowers.
The window brings a distant scene
To my study curtains.
Fish throng round my scented hook
By river-washed stones.
9
Lying on rivers and softly sleeping
Two ducks in the sun.
I punt my little skiff slowly past
The winding shores.
Magnolias steeped in wine,
Covered with pepper-leaves.17
Friends help the sick man to his feet
To plant water-chestnut.
10
Bian Rang this morning was thinking
Of Cai Yong,18
Lying down in the spring breeze,
No heart to chant songs.
South of my house there grow bamboos19
For writing-slips.
When old, I’ll go up-river and live
As an ancient fisherman.
11
Xi’s house stands near a little peak,
By a valley-mouth.20
Under the white sun, a thousand hills
Look darkest green.
Roaming around in cane sandals,
Gathering honey from stones,
I pull away strands of moss
From long water-plants.
12
Black waters of the Pine Stream
Spawn new dragon-eggs.21
The Cassia Cave bears sulphate—
Old horses’ teeth.22
Who has tailored Taoist robes
For this Yu Qing,23
Out of a length of light chiffon
Dyed with pink, mists of dawn?
13
Under small trees a path opens at dawn—
Long, thick grasses soaked by the night mist.
Willow catkins startle the snowy banks,
Wheat-rains flood the fields down by the stream!24
Occasional boom of a bell from the old monastery,
Distant storm-clouds hang from a shattered moon.
I light a fire on the sandy shores, striking stones together—
Burning bamboo flares on the fisherman’s boat.
Song of the Brazen Immortal Bidding Farewell to Han
In the Mao-ling tomb lies the lad named Liu,
Guest of the autumn wind.1
At night we hear his whinnying horse—
At dawn not a hoof-print there.
From painted balustrades, the cassia trees
Cast down autumnal fragrance.2
Over six-and-thirty palaces grow
Emerald earth-flowers.3
The courtiers of Wei harnessed their chariots
To travel a thousand leagues.
The vinegar wind from the eastern passes
Arrowed their eyes.
Vainly bearing the moon of Han
I went out of the palace gates.4
Remembering the emperor, my pure tears
Dropped down like molten lead.
Withering orchids bade them farewell
On the Xian-yang road.5
If God could suffer as we do
God too would grow old.6
Bearing my dew-plate, I journeyed alone
By the light of the cold, wild moon,
Already Wei-cheng lay far behind
And its waters faintly calling.7
Ballad: Time Goes on Forever
The white light returns to the Western Hills,
The jasper flower soars into the sky.1
When will past and present ever end?
Thousands of years have whirled away on the wind.
Sands of the sea have turned into stone,
Fish blow bubbles at the bridge of Qin.2
The lights in the void drift far, far off,
Pillars of bronze melt away with the years.3
The Young Man with a Yellow Hat
Young man with a yellow hat,
You’ve rowed away, not to return.
Lotus shadow by south shore,1
Sad, red petals drooping alone.
Water murmurs,
Lady of Xiang’s girdle-jades,2
Bamboos weep, moon over dew-drenched hills.
On a jade zither she plays “Green Gates,”3
Hill-clouds drenching yellow arrowroot.4
Deer-parsley flowers on sand,
Autumn wind already rises.5
With loving care, she sweeps fine, silken mats,
Perfume wafting from warm mandarin-ducks.6
Twenty-Three Poems about Horses
1
Dragon-spine marked with strings of cash,
Silver hooves whitely trampling the mist.
No one can weave brocade caparisons.
Who will make a golden whip for him?
2
In the twelfth month, grass roots are sweet,
In the capital’s streets, snow looks like salt.
Has he a hard-mouth or a tender?
Let’s try him out with a caltrops bit!1
3
Suddenly I remember that Emperor of Zhou,2
Urging his chariot on, up Jade Hill at a gallop.
Rattle of horse and chariot out of Phoenix Park—
Red Bayard was his favourite horse of all.
4
This steed is no ordinary horse
But the very spirit of the Fang star,3
Come forward, rap on its slender bones,
They’ll ring out like bronze.
5
On the mighty desert, sand seems snow,4
Ov
er Mount Yan, a moon like a hook.5
When will he ever wear a gold-headstall
Running swiftly, pure autumn under his hooves?
6
He lies there starving, a huddle of bones,
Rough coat branded with broken flowers.
From his burnt mane the red is fading,
His jagged forelock hacked by the long rope.6
7
The Western Mother’s party is almost over,
The Eastern King is finishing his meal.7
Should Your Majesty want to attend the banquet
What would you harness to your carriage-shafts?8
8
No other man could straddle Russet Hare,
It had to be Lü Bu who rode him.9
But I have heard that fruit-tree ponies10
Can be haltered and whipped even by native boys.
9
Shu of Liao died suddenly,
So no one knows how to rear dragons.11
At nightfall, frost thick on the stable,
The west wind splits the thoroughbred’s bones.
10
With rapid pole he crossed the River Wu,
Divine Dapple wept, breasting the wind.
“My lord has taken his sword and slain himself.
Where will I find another hero now?”12
11
A royal horse given to a palace lady,
Silver trappings embroidered with unicorns,
At midday, on that hill of salt,
A foundering steed is struggling through wind and dust.13
12
Ears like bamboo-slivers, close together,
No peach-blossom showing on its coat,
In a few years’ time, it will smash a battle-line,
So take this horse and lend him to a general.14
13
What house owns this be-ringed young gallant?
I’ve heard a dead knight’s bones are fragrant,
Bu he bought a bayard’s bones for a heap of gold
Just to present them to King Xiang of Chu.15
14
Perfumed saddle-cover of fresh, scarlet sendal.
Coiled dragons’ scales around his stirrups,
As he gazes all around the southern road,
How can you say he has not met with spring?16
15
If it hadn’t gone hunting with Duke Huan,
It could never have frightened tigers!17
One morning it will leave its fields and dikes—
Just watch it soar to brush against the clouds!
16
When Tang swords beheaded the Dukes of Sui,
Chuan-mao was the horse Tai-zong loved best.
No one gave a thought to its heavy armour,
For it was fleet enough to catch a whirlwind.18