Chapter I: Am Uneasy as the Wind Rises and Your Boat Sails Off ... White-Headed

TRAVELER AMONG WHITE-HEADED WAVES.
[_Po Chu-i_]

A LETTER HOME

YOU ASK ME: WHEN WILL I COME HOME? THERE IS NO DATE SETTLED YET. HERE, AT PA-SHAN IN AUTUMN, EVENING RAIN FLOODS THE HOLLOWS.

O FOR THE TIME WHEN WE CAN PUT OUT THE CANDLE TOGETHER BY THE WESTERN WINDOW ... O FOR THE TIME WHEN I CAN TELL YOU HOW I FEEL HERE TONIGHT AT PA-SHAN, WHEN AUTUMN RAIN FLOODS THE HOLLOWS. [_Li-Shang-yin_]

THE POET AND THE FLOOD

ICY WINDS SWEEP DOWN FROM THE MOUNTAINS AND RIP OUT THE TREES. PITILESS, THE FLOOD RISES IN THE RIVER DAY BY DAY. THERE IS NO MOUNTAIN NOW, OR FIELDS ... EVERYTHING IS FOG AND WATER.

ALL THE SAME, MY LATE CHRYSANTHEMUMS ARE IN BLOOM. WHEN YOU ROW PAST, YUNG-HI, SLOW YOUR BOAT IN FRONT OF MY GARDEN AND GAZE AT THEM ... THEIR HOT COLORS WILL RE-WARM YOUR HEART. [_Tu Fu_]

PARTING IN AUTUMN

THE CRICKETS ARE COLD, THEIR SONG IS SAD. OUTSIDE THE PAVILION THE LAST SHOWER-DROPS PATTER DOWN. HOLLOW THE HAPPY FAREWELL PARTY. WE LINGER ... WHILE THE RIVER-BOAT, LOADED WITH SANDALWOOD, IS WAITING FOR ME TO GO ABOARD.

WE STAND HAND IN HAND, WE STAND WITHOUT TALKING, WE STAND WITH TEARS ... TO THINK THAT I MUST TRAVEL A THOUSAND MILES OF MIST AND RAIN AND WATER! THE EVENING CLOUDS ARE GATHERING AGAIN, AND THE SKY WIDENS TO THE SOUTH.

IT IS AN OLD STORY: PARTING FROM A LOVER IS FULL OF PAIN ... AND IT IS ALL THE WORSE IN RAINY AUTUMN. TONIGHT, WHEN I GROW SOBER AFTER ALL THIS WINE, WHERE WILL YOU BE? ON THE WILLOWY SHORE, UNDER THE WANING MOON?

AND I ... ALL THIS YEAR AWAY, SUNSHINE AND LOVELY SIGHTS WILL COME TO ME IN VAIN ... NO ONE ALL THIS YEAR TO TELL A THOUSAND HAPPY THOUGHTS. [_Li Yung_]

THE EMBROIDERY

THE COOL WIND OF EVENING BLOWS BIRD-SONG TO A WINDOW WHERE THE MAIDEN SITS. SHE IS EMBROIDERING FLOWER-PATTERNS ON SILK.

HER HEAD IS RAISED; HER WORK FALLS FROM HER FINGERS; HER THOUGHTS HAVE FLOWN TO SOMEONE FAR AWAY.

“A BIRD CAN EASILY FIND ITS MATE AMONG THE LEAVES, BUT ALL A MAIDEN’S TEARS, FALLING LIKE RAIN FROM HEAVEN, WILL NOT BRING BACK HER DISTANT LOVER.”

SHE BENDS AGAIN TO HER EMBROIDERY: “I WILL WEAVE A LITTLE VERSE AMONG THESE FLOWERS OF HIS ROBE ... PERHAPS HE WILL READ IT AND COME BACK AGAIN.” [_Li Po_]

THE SOUTH WIND

THE SWEET SMELL OF THE SOUTH WIND CAN CALM THE TEMPERS OF MY PEOPLE.

THE SWEET RAIN OF THE SOUTH WIND CAN NOURISH THE GRAIN-FIELDS OF MY PEOPLE. [_Anonymous_]

LET US DRINK WINE

LOOK: DO YOU NOT SEE THE RAIN FALLING AT LAST FROM THE SKY? FALLING INTO THE YELLOW RIVER, FLOWING FAST INTO THE SEA, AND NEVER NEVER RETURNING?

LOOK: DO YOU NOT SEE THE CLEAR MIRROR IN THE HALL, SHOWING OUR HAIR BLACK SILK AT MORNING, FALLEN TO BITTER SNOW BY NIGHT?

YOU WHO HAVE HAD YOUR FILL OF BITTER LIFE, COME DRINK THE DREGS WITH ME! LET THERE BE MOONLIGHT IN OUR EVENING ... LET THE GOLDEN CUPS NEVER STAND EMPTY.

HEAVEN BLESSED ME WITH RICHES AND I MUST SPEND MYSELF. THOUGH I THROW AWAY TEN THOUSAND GOLD COINS AND POEMS, ALWAYS I FIND MORE. SO LET US SLAUGHTER THE SHEEP AND THE OX ... LET US MAKE MERRY AND MERRY ... WHY, I PROMISE TO SWALLOW THREE HUNDRED CUPS THIS SINGLE NIGHT.

COME, FRIEND CH’IN ... COME, MASTER CH’AN ... I OFFER YOU MY WINE: DO NOT REFUSE IT. I OFFER YOU MY SONG: DO NOT IGNORE IT.

THE MEATS AND THE DANCING AND THE MUSIC ARE NOT MY DESIRE ... MY ONLY DESIRE IS TO BE DRUNK FOR EVER AND EVER AND NEVER WAKE AGAIN. SCHOLARS AND SAINTS ARE FORGOTTEN SOON; BUT GREAT DRUNKARDS ARE IMMORTAL.

THEY SAY PRINCE CH’EN AT HIS GREAT PING-YUEH TEMPLE FEAST PAID TEN THOUSAND COINS FOR WINE, SO EVERYONE COULD HAVE ENOUGH. NOW THAT I GIVE THE FEAST ... DARE I LACK MONEY? NO! LET US BUY THE WINE! LET US DRINK TOGETHER! I WILL SEND MY BOY WITH MY FIVE-COLORED HORSE, I WILL SEND MY BOY WITH MY WONDROUS FURS WORTH ALONE TEN THOUSAND COINS ... HE WILL BARTER THEM FOR WINE ... AND WE, WE WILL DROWN THE SORROW OF A THOUSAND GENERATIONS! [_Li Po_]

AT THE RIVER

SHE GATHERS LILY-FLOWERS IN THE SHALLOW RIVER-WATERS ... SINGING AS SHE WADES. NOW A STRANGER DAWDLES ALONG THE BANK. SHE TURNS AROUND TO LOOK AT HIM.

HIDING IN A BUNCH OF LILIES, PRETENDING TO BE EMBARRASSED ... SHE PEEKS OUT TO SMILE. [_Li Po_]

CHRYSANTHEMUMS

I BUILT MY LITTLE HOUSE RIGHT IN THE CITY, BUT I NEVER HEAR HORSE OR CARRIAGE. DO YOU WONDER HOW THIS CAN BE? BECAUSE A SOUL UNATTACHED CREATES ITS OWN SWEET SOLITUDE.

I PICK CHRYSANTHEMUMS UNDER THE HEDGE TO THE EAST, GAZE AT THE MOUNTAIN RISING TO THE SOUTH, BREATHE HIGH WESTERN AIR AT SUNSET, WATCH THE BIRDS FLY NORTH.

THESE THINGS HOLD HIDDEN TRUTHS ... BUT WHEN I TRY TO UNCOVER THEM, WORDS ARE NOT THE WAY. [_Tao Yuan-Ming_]

THE INSTRUMENT