by Li He
Brazen dragons, mouthing rings,
Writhed locked in fight.
On perfumed mats his jewelled girls
Lounged drunkenly,
Merman-pongee netted his casements
Invisibly.
He’d dine on a phoenix from Cinnabar Hill
When he wished to “rough it,”5
As for potage aux petits macaques,
He’d never touch it.6
Golden toads with gaping mouths
Burnt fragrant,
orchid candles,
Singing-girls in battle-array,
With jangling armour.
Nobody knew if the blossom-rain
Had fallen at night,7
Only that spring grass grew more lush
By the terrace pools.
Clamour of strings and pipes encircled
The gaping heavens,
The sound of Hong Yai’s flute came stealing
From the azure void,8
A single arrow shot at the welkin
Pierced two tigers,
They held the reins, let their steeds gallop on
Among the clouds,
Thunder from a rainless sky!
Wild sleeves criss-cross like bamboos,
Flute-girls were dancing,
Singers from Wu, like green parakeets
Just learning to talk.
He was wealthy enough to fill a cave
With purple gold,
Yet asked for presents of rare costly rabbits
Burnt with his brand.9
Three empresses,
Fifty colonels,
Seven noblemen,
A pair of generals—
All from his family.
Though these once gorgeous clouds dislimned
And flew away,
Translated to our capital
They brought us spring today.10
Let’s Drink Wine
Xi and He gallop their six steeds1
Days and nights leave us no leisure,
Chasing the crow to Mount Yan-zi’s bamboos,2
They flog their horses with a Coiling Peach whip.3
Ru Shou no sooner breaks the kingfisher willows
Than the Green Emperor creates red orchids again.4
Millions of years have rolled by
Since Yao and Shun,
And no king halted his chariot more than a moment.
Green coins, white jade-rings cannot buy time.
We should be merry, make the most of the present.
Turtle-soup and bears’ paws—why bother with them?
Let’s drink the North Sea out of flagons,
Cross-legged on South Mountain,
Sing loud and long
To the low lilt of flutes,
Bestowing gifts of tattoo gold5
For the amorous glances of singing-girls.
This is life at its best!
Why struggle to fathom the mind
Of the Creating Power?6
Let’s urge each other to drink,
Drink without stopping.
May the Emperor’s great name
Endure without end!
His sons and grandsons spread abroad
Like arrowroot on rocks!
From Luo-yang to Chang-an
Stretch lines of carriages.7
Liang Chi’s ancient mansion!8
The old gardens of Shih Chong!9
Delights of the Jasper Flower
High-King Mu
Urged on his dragon-steeds,1
Eight bridles jingling
As they drove round the heavens,2
Five planets swept the earth for him,3
Thick clouds rolled back.
Upon the high gates left and right
Sun and moon were door-rings,
On all four sides rich filigree
Rose in blood-red tiers,
Rosy mists with drooping tails,
Coiling around.
Limpid as a river, chaste as the sea,
The face of the Spirit Mother.
Painted with rouge and brushed with green—
Mirrored in the Sunset Pool!4
Clothed in clouds, and trailing jade,
She descended Kun-lun mountains,
Pennons arrayed like pine trees,
Awnings spread like wheels.
The metal wind ends autumn,5
The Pure Brilliance starts spring.
Eight horse-bells for each of ten carriages,
Fabled horses like gathering clouds.
Jade cups on jewelled mats,
Degged with sweet dew,6
Black Frost and Scarlet Snow
Not worth a mention.7
I shall present to you,
“Perfumed Plum, Dyed Willow,
And Lead-flower Water
To wash your very bones.
Here I shall sit with you
While you grow immortal.”
Cold up North
One quarter lowers black while three turn purple,
Ice vaults the Yellow River, fish and dragons die.
Tree-bark three feet thick splits against the grain,
Chariots of a ton or more travel on the river.
Frost-flowers on the grass, big as silver coins,
No brandished blade could penetrate this sombre sky.
Swirling in a raging sea the flying ice-floes roar,
Soundless hang mountain waterfalls, rainbows of jade.
Reflections on the Ancient Terrace of Liang
Terrace and pool of the Prince of Liang
Rear out of empty air.
The waters of the River of Heaven
Fly down to them at night. 1
In front of the terrace, mortised jades
Form scaly dragons.
Green-powdered bamboos sweep the sky,
Grieving, damp with dew.
To the chime of bells he drank his wine,
Shot arrows at heaven.2
Golden tigers crowded his furs,
Dappled with spurted blood,3
Dawn after dawn, dusk after dusk,
He mourned that the seas spun round.
To a long rope he tethered the sun,
To fill his years with joy.
Lotus flowers’ clotted crimson
Faded with fall.
Orchids’ faces wept endless tears,
Parting from spring.
On reedy isles the migrant geese
Announced spring’s return.
By the wild lands’ desolate waters
Vast autumn gleamed white.
Do Not Go out of Your Gate, Sir!
Heaven overcast,
Earth in shadow.
Nine-headed serpents devouring men’s souls,1
Snow and frost snapping men’s bones
Snarling dogs, barking Hunt us down,2
Licking their paws, greedy for the flesh
Of the man with an orchid girdle.3
Once God sends a chariot to bear you away,
Your misfortunes will end.
His sword adorned with stars of jade,
His yoke of yellow gold.
Though I have a horse to ride,
I cannot go home,
For the waves that drowned Li-yang
Loom large as mountains.4
Poisonous, horned dragons glaring,
Rattling their brazen rings.5
Lions and griffons drooling6
From slavering jaws.
Bao Jiao spent his whole life
Sleeping under straw.7
Yan Hui’s hair was mottled white
When he was twenty-nine. 8
Yet Yan Hui’s blood was not corrupt,
Nor had Bao Jiao offended Heaven.
Heaven was afraid the jaws would close on them,
So it treated them thus.
If you still doubt my discernment, sir,
Think of the man raving wildly by the wall,
As he wrote his “Heavenly Questions.”9
&nb
sp; Song of the Magic Strings
As the sun sets in the western hills
The eastern hills grow dark,
A whirlwind blows the horses along,
Steeds trampling the clouds.1
Painted zithers and plain flutes
Play soft, weird tunes,
To the rustle of embroidered skirts
She treads the autumn dust.2
Cassia leaves stripped by the wind,3
Cassia seeds fall,
Blue racoons are weeping blood
As shivering foxes die.4
On the ancient wall, a painted dragon,5
Tail inlaid with gold,
The Rain God is riding it away
To an autumn tarn.
Owls that have lived a hundred years,
Turned forest demons,6
Laugh wildly as an emerald fire
Leaps from their nests.
Magic Strings
The witch pours out a libation of wine,
And clouds cover the sky,
In a jade brazier charcoal burns—
The incense booms. 1
Gods of the sea and mountain demons
Flock to her seat,
Crackle of burning paper money2
As a whirlwind moans.
She plays a love-wood lute3 adorned
With golden, dancing simurghs,
Knitting her brows, she plucks a note
For each word uttered.
She calls down stars and summons demons
To savour meat and drink,
When mountain-goblins come to eat,
Men are breathless and hushed.
Colours of sunset low in a coign
Of Zhong-nan range,4
Long lingers the Spirit. Something or Nothing?
We cannot tell.5
The Spirit’s anger, the Spirit’s delight
Shows in her face,
Ten thousand riders escort him back
To the emerald hills.
Farewell Song of Magic Strings
The Maiden of Witch Mountain now departs
Behind a screen of clouds,1
In spring a breeze blows flowers of pine
Down from the mountain-side.
Alone beneath her emerald canopy she returns
Through fragrant paths,2
White horses and flower-decked poles
Dazzle before her.
On the River of Shu blows a limpid wind,
Water like gauze,3
Who will float on a fallen orchid
To come to see her?4
A cassia tree on a southern hill
Is dying for her,5
Her robes of cloud are slightly stained
By its rouged petals.6
Song of Green Water
Tonight a pleasant wind and moon,
But where is poor Hou?
Because her beauty breaks men’s hearts
She has her share of pain and sadness.
Is she gathering lotus by east lake?
Or plucking cattails by south lake?
She has no little sister-in-law in mind,
They’re but the tokens of her sorrow.1
Song: Sandy Road
Tamarisk-faces, half-asleep,
The Premier’s trees. 1
Jingle of bridle-bells, as horses
Tread the sandy road.
Lingering scent of burnt-out fires,
Emerald smoke swirling.2
Horseman with torches, on clattering hooves,
Riding to Heaven.3
Jade dragons in the emperor’s home
Open nine gates,4
He writes on his tablet in the emperor’s presence,
And Mount South trembles.
Alone, his weighty seal controls
A thousand officials,
On its golden face, red characters
Twirl and swirl.
Going home along the sandy road,
He hears nothing but praise,
No drought fires are blazing,
Rain falls everywhere.5
The Emperor Returns
The Emperor returns!
Great banners rejoice,
Hanging red clouds,
Fluttering phoenix tails.
Breaking from its case
His sword leaps like a dragon.1
Chi You is dead!2
The drums are rolling.
Heaven blesses us all,
Thunder falls to the earth.
Over ocean’s thousand leagues
No wild waves fly.3
The Grand Official Carriage Comes on a Visit. Written at the Command of Assistant Secretary Han Yu and Censor Huang-fu Shi When They Visited Me.
Ornate robes woven with kingfisher feathers,
Green as shallots,
Bridles hung with rings of gold
Shaking and jingling.
Drumming of hoof beats in my ear,
Clopping and clattering,
In through my gates they come, alighting,
Auras like rainbows.
“Behold the genius from Lo-yang,
And the Lord of Letters!”
Eight-and-twenty constellations
Ranged within your hearts.
The Primal Essence, burning bright,
Pervades your inmost being.
You write rhymed-prose by the Palace,
Renown reaching the sky.
Your brushes perfect creation,
Humiliating Heaven.
This scholar with bushy eyebrows,
Grieves at autumn tumbleweed,
Yet perhaps even withered grass
May wake in a flowering wind.
With flagging pinions I now cling to
Soaring wild-geese,
Yet some day, shamed no longer,
This snake shall rise a dragon.
Lady of the Cowrie Palace
Mermaids play with her gold rings,
Jingling softly.1
Her sparrow-hairpin cocks its tail,
Both wings furled.
Not for her the Six Palaces,
She is tranquil forever,2
Hung on high a silver sign
Reflecting green hills.
Long eyebrows of frozen green—
Unchanging for centuries.
Cold purity, defying time,
This mirrored simurgh.3
Her autumn flesh feels faintly
The chill of her jade robes.
Under the heaven’s calm, peaceful light
Water confounds with sky.
The Temple of the Goddess of Orchid Fragrance
Year after year the ancient spring endures,
An idle green caressed by the warm clouds.
Scent of pines and evening blossoms flying,
As willow islands cherish the darkling sun.
The sandy steps are filled with fallen reds,
Round stony springs wild celery is growing.
Lonely bamboos are adorned with new powder,
Moth-green mountains bar her gates at dawn.
Fragile orchids cannot bear the dew,
Mountain flowers, grieving in desolate spring.
Her dancing pendants clipped from simurghs’ wings,
Trailing sashes lightly streaked with silver.
Orchid and cinnamon breathe their heady perfume,
Water-chestnut, lotus-root heaped as offering.
Gazing at the rain, she meets Jade Lady,1
Borne in her boat, encounters the River Lord.2
Playing her flute and drunk with wine,
She knots a girdle round her gold-thread skirt.
Roaming the heavens, she chides at her white deer,
Wandering the waters, whips her bright-scaled steed.
Thick hair flies from her empty headdress,
Flower-tints blended on her glistening cheeks.
Caves of pearl beside her coiling tresses,3
Delicate lips framed by her dark brows.
A flut
tering butterfly her graceful beauty,
Wind and sun shrink from her slender body.
In secluded curtains, golden ducks grow cold,4
On her vanity-mirror, a lonely simurgh gathers dust.
Treading the mist, she’s borne home on the breeze,
Her tinkling jades heard on the mountain-top.
I Escort Wei Ren-shi and His Brother to the Pass
Seeing off my friends, I drink the wine of parting,
After a thousand goblets, no flushed faces.1
The most heart-rending sound I know?
Jingle of golden rings on horses’ heads.
The coloured wilderness is vast, untamed,
Autumn bright under the boundless sky.
My courage ebbs from me all unawares,
My straining eyes follow my friends in vain.
Roadside pagoda-trees stretch away westwards,
Long, green branches thickly bunched together.
I’ve escorted these gentlemen to the waters of Qin,
I must return to Luo-yang’s mists again.
The brothers Wei are both fine fellows,
Their brushes pour forth characters like jade.2
I live in a little hut on top of a hill,
Around it, a weed-grown patch of stony ground.
On rainy nights, the tax collector’s shouts
Darkly mingle with thump of pestle on mortar.
Who can understand my weary heart?
Only Mount South rears its green before me.3
Outside the Walls of Luo-yang, I Take Leave of Huang-fu Shi
Through Luo-yang city blows a parting wind,
At Dragon Gate rises estranging mist.1
Winter trees—bundles of bare, harsh branches,
Twilight purple congeals in the dappled sky.
Alone in the frosty wilderness I go,
On a jaded horse, through flying tumbleweed.
I lean on your carriage, shedding a tear or two
Falling as tribute before your green robe.2
A Cold Gorge at Twilight
A white fox barking at the moon,
The mountain wind.1
Autumn chill sweeps off the clouds
Leaving an emerald void.
Jade mists on green water,
Like pennants of white.
The Silver Torrent winds at dawn
To the eastern sky.
Beside the stream an egret sleeps,
Dreaming of migrant geese. 2
Delicate ripples, unmurmuring,
Stir scarcely at all.
Storied crags and twisted peaks