Looking for T'eng's Old Recluse Home By Meng Hao-jan

Human endeavor's gone in a single morning
and a recluse's three paths vanish in weeds.

First I hear you're resting at the Chang River,
now you're among T'ai Mountain's wandering

dead. There's a pond here still tinged with ink,
but autumn's tumbled out of mountain clouds,

no hidden boats to find. You understood, hid
all beneath heaven inside all beneath heaven.

By Meng Hao-jan, translated by David Hinton.

Up Early at Fish - Creek Lake by Meng Hao Jan

Dawn spreads early luster across the east.
A clamor of island birds just startled away,

and lying in a bed at the mouth of Fish Creek,
I hear unseen paddles fade into distances.

Sunrise thins mists away, and I start to see
how replete an expanse my river course is:

young women rising late as usual, exquisite
lit reflections traced among drifting froth,

gibbons down to drink, skittish at the river,
otters surfacing to sacrifice captured fish.

On a boat, sorrow's always far off. And today
I'll sail clear skies all wide - open radiance!

By Meng Hao Jan, part of the Mountain Poems of Meng Hao Jan, translated by David Hinton.