Poetry by Yang Wan-Li

 Crossing Open-Anew Lake


A fisherman's taking his boat across the lake.
My old eyes trace his path all the way, his precise

wavering in and out of view. Then it gets strange:
suddenly he's a lone goose balanced on a bent reed.

On a Boat, Crossing Through Peace Humane District (No.3)

Out on the merest wisp of a fishing boat, two small boys
give up the struggle. They ship their paddles and just sit.

It seems so strange. No rain in sight, they start opening
umbrellas. Not for shelter. They want so sail on the wind!

Translated by David Hinton.

In relation to this: http://skyraft.wordpress.com/2012/07/14/pedernal-for-georgia-okeeffe/

Poems (Various)

Translated by Red Pine:

Traveling on the Yangtze

So close but plagued by wind and rain
I can't climb Kuanglushan
I wonder if in those mist-hidden caves
any Six Dynasty monks still dwell

by Ch'ien Hsu

The Meditation Hall behind Poshan Temple

I entered an ancient temple at dawn
the rising sun lit the tall trees
a trail led off to a secluded place
to a meditation hall in a flowering wood
where mountain light pleased the hearts of birds
and pond reflections stilled men's minds
the ten thousand noises were hushed
all I heard was a bell

by Ch'ang Chien

Written at the Sungting Relay Station

Hill shapes merge with the far-off sky
east of the mist-covered marshlands
the ocean glows with the day's first light
the river turns white in the distant wind
steep trails lead to a high plateau
small paths link columns of smoke
why are all my retired friends
not here among the Five Lakes

by Chang Hu

Climbing a Mountain

All day I feel lost as if drunk or in a dream
the I hear spring is over and force myself to climb
passing a bamboo courtyard I meet a monk and talk
and spend another afternoon beyond this floating life

by Li She

Helped to inspire this post: http://skyraft.wordpress.com/2012/03/03/dragon-breath-river/

A poem by Po Chu-I

In The Mountains

It will come: the great transformation of seas to mulberry fields.
Heaven and earth seething, all wind-churned swells and billows,

feasting whales and battling dragons will turn the waves to blood.
But what do these fish know, happily wandering a deep stream?

By Po Chu-I, translated by David Hinton.

Chinese Poetry

Lingering Out Farewell with Wang Wei

Those isolate depths of quiet: why do I wait
morning after morning, unable to return?

I'm happy to go search out fragrant herbs,
but I'll long for you, I should know by now

it's enough nurturing isolate depths of quiet
back home again, my old garden gate closed.

Adrift at Wu-ling

Wu-ling's river thinned out, my long-ago
boat glides on into peach-blossom forests

where headwaters harboured such quiet
mystery: immortal families so deep away.

Water meanders, blurs into blue cliffs,
darkens green beneath a crossing cloud.

I sit listening. Idle gibbons cry out, mind
sudden clarity far beyond a world of dust.

All by Meng Hao Jan

Deer Park

No one seen. Among empty mountains,
hints of drifting voice, faint, no more.

Embracing these deep woods, late sunlight
flares on green moss again, and rises.

By Wang Wei. 

82

in the nearby mountains, a green mountain haze
on the distant sea, white sea clouds
the chatter of birds is soundless
the roar of gibbons-absolutely silent

166

autumn mountains: brocades of light
the clouds: endless beauty
I lean on my staff, contemplate crimson leaves
silent: as the birds streaming above me

By Shih-Shu

A Candlelion Poem and A Good-Talking Candle by Richard Brautigan

A Candlelion Poem

                             

                             For Michael

Turn a candle inside out

and you've got the smallest

portion of a lion standing

there at the edge of the

    shadows.

A Good-Talking Candle

I had a good-talking candle
last night in my bedroom.

I was very tired but I wanted
somebody to be with me,
    so I lit a candle

and listened to its comfortable
voice of light until I was asleep.

By Richard Brautigan from the collection The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster.

Chinese Poem

Auspicious Arrival of Yung T'ao

This morning
laughing together-
just a few days
in a hundred.

After birds pass
over Sword Gate, it's calm;
invaders from the south
have withdrawn to the Lu River wilds.

We walk on frosted ground
praising chrysanthemums bordering fields;
sit on the east edge of the woods
waiting for the moon to rise.

Not having to be alone
is happiness;
we do not talk
of failure or success.

By Chia Tao, Translated by Mike O'Connor.

Chinese Poetry

Returning Home to Deer-Gate Mountain At Night
As Day Fades into dusk, the bell at a mountain temple sounds.
Fish-Bridge Island is loud with people clamoring at the ferry,

and others follow sandy shores toward their river village.
But returning home to Deer-Gate, I paddle my own little boat,

Deer-Gate's incandescent moonlight opening misty forests,
until suddenly I've entered old Master P'ang's isolate realm.

Cliff the gate, pines the path - it's forever still and silent,
just this one recluse, this mystery coming and going of itself.
Meng Hao-Jan (Ran): The Mountain Poems of Meng Hao-Jan, poem translated by David Hinton.

Mourning Yin Yao
Returning you to Stone-Tower Mountain, we bid farewell
among ash-green pine and cypress, then return home.

Of your bones now buried white cloud, this much remains
forever: streams cascading empty towards human realms.
Wang Wei: The Selected Poems of Wang Wei, poem translated by David Hinton.

Reading Ch'an Sutras
In all difference appearance reveals, there's no difference,
and even dwelling beyond any trace of residue is itself residue.

Forget words in the midst of words, and you will see through it all.
Root out dream in the midst of dream, and you double abscence.

But how can you harvest fruit from the blossoms of emptiness,
and how can you catch a meal of fish in some lakewater mirage?

To still relentless change is Ch'an, and Ch'an is change itself.
No Ch'an and no change - there lies what seems in what seems.
Po Chu-I: The Selected Poems of Po Chu-I, poem translated by David Hinton.

At the Hua – Shan hermitage of adept Ma Tai
Jade Woman,
"washing her hair in a basin,"
is solitary, high,
indescribable.

Waterfalls spill
from Lotus Peak's summit;
the Yellow River
sweeps past the base of Mount Hua.

Here, small birds break off;
the woods conceal tigers;
gibbons liver
where no people do.

After rain;
the autumn moon;
on rock;
old pines and a gate.
Chia Tao: When I Find You Again It Will Be In Mountains, poem translated by Mike O’Connor.

Written on the Wall at Master Wei Feng’s
The grassy path
Leads to deep cloister.
Arriving in Autumn
Eases my heart
Even more.

In town
No one I've known long.
Outside the gate, another mountain.
Exploring the silence gives poetic
Thought birth. Fasting
Confers a sick look.

On freezing nights
You arrange to meet me often:
Silent talk beyond
Human Space.
Pao Hsien: And the Clouds Should Know Me By Now, poem translated by Paul Hansen.