The Collected Poems of Li He
Page 12
My hair’s grown white before I end my song.3
Song: Do Not Dance, Sir!
Preface:
The song called Do Not Dance, Sir! celebrates the way Xiang Bo protected Liu Pei. The exploits of that warrior at the feast have won such fame that no one has bothered to write of them again. Among the northern and southern ballads, however, there is one song which celebrates his feat. I thought this too crude, so I wrote another song of this title.
Flowers on ancient plinths of stone,
Nine pillars in a row,
Blood of slaughtered leopards dripping
Into silver pots.
Drummers and pipers at the feast,
No zithers or flutes,
Long knives planted in the ground
Split the singing lute. 1
Lintels hung with coarse brocade
Of scarlet woof,
Sunlight fades the rich brocade,
The king still sober.2
Three times Yu saw the precious ring
Flash at Fan’s belt,
Xiang Zhuang drew sword from scabbard,
And stood before Liu Pei.
“Ensign! Your rank is far too low
You may not dance.3
Our guest is kin to the gods themselves,
A red dragon’s seed.”4
On Mang and Tang auspicious clouds
Coiled in the heavens,5
In Xian-yang city, the royal aura
Shone clear as water.
Iron hinges, iron barriers
Fettered the passes,
Mighty banners, five fathoms long,
Battered the double gates,6
“Today the King of Han possesses
The Seal of Qin.
Smash my knee-caps, disembowel me,
I shall say no more.”
Four Poems about New Bamboo-Shoots in My North Garden at Chang-gu.
1
Bamboo-skin sloughs from the long stems
Like peeled jade.
You, sir, can see this mother-bamboo
Has the stuff of dragons.1
Just let it thrust a thousand feet
In a single night,
Leaving behind it inches of mire
By the garden pool.
2
I scrape off their green lustre,
To inscribe my Songs of Chu.2
Over rich fragrance, spring powder,
The black ink coils.
Tranquil or sorrowful—
Who will see my poems?3
Weighed down with dew, mourning in mist,
These countless branches.
3
Through gaps in the stones round our family well—
Two or three bamboo-shoots.
At dawn I glimpsed their hidden roots
Growing through a purple path.4
This year on the sands of spring
By winding waters,
I’ll strip away the jade and green
From new bamboos.5
4
Ancient bamboos whose aged tips
Tease emerald clouds.
Like Mao-ling, I’ve come home to rest and sigh
At my pure poverty. 6
A gust of wind and a thousand arpents7
Whistling greet the rain.8
Birds sit so heavy on this one stem
It dips into my flagon.
She Steals My Heart
Sung Yu’s vain hopes have vanished in melancholy,
What a graceful beauty she is, dusted with rose.1
I hear her singing among dewy spring grass,
Her gate is closed, drifted over with apricot blossom.
She rouges her mouth, a little cherry,
Pencils her brows, deep-green as cassia leaves.
At dawn by her vanity-box she makes up her face,
Night-fragrance fades from the tube in the bed.2
On her inlaid mirror flies a lonely magpie,3
On a river-view screen, waterweed is painted.
Her hair swirls up and down, a blue-black phoenix,
With golden insects quivering up on it.4
She is an iris brimming with clear dew,
A cattail with its cluster in purple shoots.
Black eyebrows crescent-moons, unfrowning,
Her dimples red as folded flowers.
Her heavy hair curls round her like a mist,
So slender-waisted, a breeze could break her.
She writes love-letters capped with cardamoms,
Laughing at “lotus,” that secret word.5
Do not lock up the box of purple brocade,
Nor open the basket quilted with kingfisher feathers.
Playing with her pearls she scares the southern swallows,6
Burning honey she entices the northern bees.
She casts red nets dappled with white,
And hangs up gins of thin, green gauze. 7
She teaches her lovely girls to handle money,8
Asks her servant from Ba what medicine to buy.9
On her powdered cheeks a slanting line of geese,
Moving the lamp, she broods on dreams of bears.10
Her feelings are not tight as tied bamboo,
The flesh of her belly is suddenly taut as a bow.
At dusk new butterflies go astray in the trees,
Fading, a female rainbow longs for a vanished male.
Long ago, a bird tried to fill in the Gulf of Chihli,
Today an old man tunnels the Kong Tong hills.11
From an embroidered rope long curtains hang,
Her silken skirt is tied at its short seam.
Like a dancing crane her heart flutters about,
Her bones are sticking out like a fallen dragon’s.12
From the side of the well green lacquer drops,
The door-rings are bound with white brass.
Hugging the flowers a rabbit-track opens,
Hard by the wall, print of foxes’ feet.
The light blinds are studded with tortoise-shell,
The folding screen of glass is warm.
Her ivory bed has sides of white cypress,
Her rolled jade-mat is fragrant as water-shallot.
She plays her small pipes by the curtain sat dawn
On fragrant wine-lees maple-leaves fall at dusk.13
“Should-have-a-son” grows in the lanes of Chu,14
Gardenias blossom around Golden Wall.
The open screen is rough with tortoise-shell,15
Her goose-feather brush soaks up the rich, black ink,
The “Yellow Courtyard” detains this Wei Huan.16
In the green trees she feeds the Han Peng birds.17
At cockcrow stars hang in the willows,
Crows cry as dew drops from the plane trees.
When this yellow-painted beauty takes her seat,
Her little sisters follow in her train.
When waxen tears have fallen, fragrance vanished,18
With a grass broom she sweeps the ornate lattice.
She plays an old tune on her mouth-organ,
While waiting to buy wine from Xin-feng,19
Sorrow thick as the grain on her short pendant,20
Fingers slender as chives plucking the long-stringed lute.
In the Serpentine, the ducklings are all sleeping,
In the small pavilion, the pretty maid servant dreams.
Her well-stitched mattress is sewn with double thread,
Her buckled belt has five braided tassels.
Mist from Shu flies over the rich brocade,
Rain from the gorge sprinkles her silken night dress.21
She rubs the mirror, shy before Wen Qiao,22
Flees from Jia Chong in his perfumed dress.23
A fish lies under a jade lotus-root,
Someone is held fast by a stone-lotus.24
She knits her blue eyebrows, mouth full of water,
From the terrace she sprays his horse’s mane.25
Th
e Governor lives in a winding street,26
The Guardian of the Royal Tombs dwells in Lin-chiung.27
A warm ball of fragrance hangs from her cassia curtains,
From brazen incense-burners, wisps of smoke.
These long, spring days, Master Wang’s ways are winning,28
Orioles sing, so she thinks of Xie’s languorous maid.29
The jade water-clock says the Three Stars shine bright,
By the Bronze Camels the five-horse carriages meet.30
Rhinoceros horn banishes fear from her gall,
Mercury calms the fluttering of her heart.31
She uses a bracelet to tell a man’s destiny,
Strums her lute and sings of good luck and bad.
“The Royal Hour occurs on the Seventh Night,32
Your lover has a post in the Triple Palaces.”33
Since I had no strength, she fed me powdered mica,34
Sought many prescriptions from an old medicine seller.
She sent me a blue-bird bearing an amulet,
The bag was sewn with thin, red silk.
As I passed the bridge the palace bells stopped ringing.
When my middle-aged maid awakes in the moonlight,
She will laugh to see my painted room is empty.35
Five Exhortations
1
He-pu has no more shining pearls,
Lung-zhou has no more “wooden slaves”1
Enough to show us that the powers of Nature
Can never meet officialdom’s demands.
The wives of Yue had not begun their weaving,
Silkworms of Wu had just started wriggling about,
When a district official came riding on his horse,
He’d a wicked face, a curly purple beard.
Now in his robe he carried a square tablet,
And on this tablet several lines were written.2
“If it were not for the Magistrate’s anger,
Would I have come in person to your house?”
The wife of Yue bowed to the district official,
“The mulberry leaves are as yet very small.
We’ll simply have to wait till the end of spring,
Then silk reels will begin to spin and spin.”
While the wife of Yue was making excuses,
Her sister-in-law prepared some yellow millet,
The district official ate it, kicked over the dishes,
Then sent his petty clerks into the house.
2
Geniuses don’t know what it is to be young—
How the sun’s chariot limps upon its way!3
Long years of striving for a double ribbon4
Left me with nothing more than whitened hair.
The bluebottles have long since ceased to whine
Round Jia Yi’s grave by the gates of the capital.5
At the Cold Food Festival, with skies awhirl,
The angry landscape seems as bleak as winter.6
Of the twelve emperors of Former Han
Only one deserved to be called wise.7
Yet even he one evening listened to fools,
And ended forever his splendid reputation.
3
The melancholy of the Southern Mountain,8
Ghostly rain drizzling on desolate grass!
Back in Chang-an, this autumn midnight,
How many men are withering in this wind?9
Dim and uncertain these paths in the yellow twilight,
Tossing by the road, dark chestnut-oaks.
Moon on high, trees standing in their shadows,
The entire mountain shrouded in white dawn.10
Lacquer torches are out to welcome newcomers,11
Over lonely tombs the fireflies are flickering.
4
By now the stars have faded, heaven is high,
All nature knows another day is dawning.
Born into this world, I have to feed myself,12
So out of my gate I go, with burdened back.
Jun-ping was long gone and did not return,13
Kang-bai ran away on the state highway.
“What a rowdy place this is!” I think at daybreak.
Round the market gates, a thousand chattering men.14
5
At the rocks’ foot, bright autumn water,
At the rocks’ side, thin autumn grass.
Fragrance of wild bamboo pervades my clothes,
Countless leaves drooping luxuriantly.
Over the peaks the moon returns,
Toad-light hanging gracefully in the sky.15
The dewy cassia face the fairy maiden16
Twinkling droplets fall from the loitering clouds.17
Chill and lonely, the gardenia drops its seeds,
A mountain crevice weeps with crystal tears.
Down below Zhang Zhong-wei is living,18
Opening his books, he finds his desk mouldering away.
In the Third Month I Pass by the Imperial Travelling Lodge
Moat water, vexed with red,
Isolates the palace.1
Little leaves flirt with the breeze,
Mimicking palace girls.
How many springs have they watched growing old
Hidden by hanging blinds,
Locked up here for a thousand years
Of long, white days?
Following the Theme of He and Xie: Singing-Girls in the Brazen Bird Tower
A lovely girl pours out a bowl of wine,
Autumn landscape stretches a thousand leagues.
Stone horses slumber in the early mist,1
No words to fit such melancholy.
Faint singing wafts upon the wind
Rustling in the trees upon his tomb.
The tower is oppressed by their long skirts,2
Tearful eyes gaze at the flower-filled table.3
Seeing Off the Banquet Officer Qin on His Military Expedition to the North
Melting our bow-glue, we fight northern nomads,1
On autumn sands at dawn, the din of drums.
Bearded tribesmen violate our borders,
Arrogant as rainbows arched on heaven.
Warships bear soldiers over Ba river,2
At Little Willow, our camp-gates open wide,3
The general gallops round on his white horse,
His gallant men display their virile mettle.
Their arrows shoot down threatening comets,4
Banners soar higher than the sun or moon.
Where mountains loom through bare-branched elms,5
Horses are whinnying, loaded down with armour.
Starlight fades from the far-off sky,
The short grass hugs the level sand.
Wind howls around the cloud-swathed beacons,
Mud fouls the snows that fall upon Jade Gate.6
Many a nomad Khan he has beheaded,
And planted fire in many a traitor’s belly.7
The Tai-chang still enjoys his former honours,8
Yet has been raised to the rank of Banquet Officer.
On his precious ring a unicorn starts up,
On arrow-jars of silver, baboons howl.
Out he rides, his horse dappled with peach-blossom,9
Ornate silks beating against his saddle.
His arm weighed down with a dangling, gold seal,
He moistens his lips from a wine-jar of jade.
He dines on clear cheese and ant-froth wine,10
Washes down the purple fat with brimming cups.
His horse caparisoned with tiger-skins,
His Fish-gut sword could cleave a rhino’s hide.
His fleet-foot hounds come from the Western Rong,
His slant-eyed slaves, captives from Northern Qi.
Dogs guard his tent where evening incense fumes,
Slaves watch his falcons through the weary night.11
Journeying to Yellow Dragon he parted from his mirror,12
At Green Grave his thoughts turn
ed to Sunny Terrace.
As Zhou Chu slays the dragon at Long Bridge,
Hou Tiao plays mournful tunes upon her harp,13
He took two phoenix-wings from Qian-tang,14
His wife presented him with simurgh-hairpins.
His lady plucked a branch from a jewelled tree,
A nomad boy played the tune called “Falling Plum.”
Oh, when will he return, the dragon slain?15
Written in Reply
1
Young gentleman with the golden fish1
And long lined gown,
Embroidered robe, leather belt
And square-holed jade.
The spring wind follows your horse’s tail
All the way,
Willow floss beats against
The palace-lady’s perfume.2
2
March in Yong-zhou—spring has come3
To the plum-blossom pool.
By the royal canal night-herons stand
In warm, white duckweed.4
We may well ask: “Who is that man
Plucking flowers this morning,
Singing and beating time
Down by the wine-shop?”
On a Painting of the Walls of Yong-dong
Wheeling, the River of Heaven, day breaking bleakly,
Crows flying up from lofty battlements.
Distant sails signpost the shores of Yue,
From the cold ramparts hang the swords of Wu.
Mussels are born in the chill sunshine,
Fish-eggs spurt into the white waves.
As water-flowers spray their head-bands,
With drums and flags they welcome the night tide.1
Bachelor Xie Had a Concubine by the Name of Gao-Lian Who Deserted Him for Another Man. Xie Tried to Make Her Stay with Him, but was Unsuccessful. Later She Grew Sentimental about Him. Those of Our Party Wrote Poems Satirizing and Vilifying Her. Later I Added Four Poems of My Own.
1
Who’d ever guess that mud could dream of clouds!1
Her hopes are dashed, pear-blossom spring is over,
She weaves glossed silk of lotus on her loom,
Cuts out a skirt patterned with lotus leaves.
In the bright moonlight my elder sister is weeping,2
Thinking she meets her love by a guttering lamp.
Has a golden fish hanging from his belt.3
2
By a bronze mirror stands a blue-green simurgh,4
She puts on rouge from Yan with a purple brocade.5
Her blossoming cheeks are brushed with dusky powder,
Cold tears invade the corners of her eyes.