1. The Long-Departed Lover
(December 1930; New Orleans)
Fair one, when you were here, I filled the house with flowers.
Fair one, now you are gone--only an empty couch is left.
On the couch the embroidered quilt is rolled up; I cannot sleep.
It is three years since you went. The perfume you left behind
haunts me still.
The perfume strays about me forever, but where are you, Beloved?
I sigh--the yellow leaves fall from the branch,
I weep--the dew twinkles white on the green mosses.
2. On The City Street
(August 1931; Santa Rosa)
They meet in the pink dust of the city street.
He raises his gold crop high in salute.
"Lady," says he, "where do you live?"
"There are ten thousand houses among the drooping willow
trees."
3. An Encounter In The Field
(August 1931; Santa Rosa)
Came an amorous rider,
Trampling the fallen flowers of the road.
The dangling end of his crop
Brushes a passing carriage of five-colored clouds.
The jeweled curtain is raised,
A beautiful woman smiles within--
"That is my house," she whispers,
Pointing to a pink house beyond.
4. The Intruder
(August 1931; Santa Rosa)
The grass of Yen is growing green and long
While in Chin the leafy mulberry branches hang low,
Even now while my longing heart is breaking,
Are you thinking, my dear, of coming back to me?
--O wind of spring, you are a stranger,
Why do you enter through the silken curtains of my bower?
5. On Ascending The Sin-Ping Tower
(October 15, 1931; San Francisco)
An exile, I ascend this tower,
Thinking of home, and with the anguish of the waning year.
The sun has set far beyond heaven's immensity;
The unsullied waters flow on in bleak undulation.
I see a stray cloud of Chin above the mountain trees,
And the wild gees of Tartary flying over the river dunes.
Alas! for ten thousand miles under the dark blue sky
As far as my eyes can reach, there is but one vast gloom for me.
6. In The Spring-Time On The South Side Of The Yangtze Kiang
(December 9, 1931; San Francisco)
Note: Both the stray cloud and the migratory birds remind the poet of his own wanderings.
The green spring--and what time?
The yellow bird sings and will not cease.
On the bank of the Kiang I am growing old, white-haired.
My homeward way lies lost beyond the horizon.
Though my thoughts fly into the clouds of Chin,
I remain with my shadow under the moon of Chu.
My life is a wasted thing,
My garden and fields have long been buried under weeds.
What am I to do so late in my years
But sing away and let alone the imperial gate of gold?
7. The Night Of Sorrow
(December 17, 1931; San Francisco)
A lovely woman rolls up
The delicate bamboo blind.
She sits deep within,
Twitching her moth eyebrows.
Who may it be
That grieves her heart?
On her face one sees
Only the wet traces of tears.
8. On Hearing The Flute In The Yellow Crane House
(February 17, 1932; San Francisco)
A wandering exile, I came away to Long Beach.
I gazed toward home, beyond the horizon,
Toward the city of Chang-an.
I heard some one in the Yellow Crane House,
Playing on the sweet bamboo flute
The tune of the "Falling Plum Flowers" . . .
It was May in the waterside city.
9. On Hearing The Flute At Lo-Cheng One Spring Night
(February 17, 1932; San Francisco)
Note: The "Willow-breaking" was a popular parting song.
Whence comes this voice of the sweet bamboo,
Flying in the dark?
It flies with the spring wind,
Hovering over the city of Lo.
How memories of home come back to-night!
Hark! the plaintive tune of "Willow-breaking."...
10. A Dream
(February 29, 1932; San Francisco)
Note: In this poem the poet describes his dream of visiting Mt. Tien-mu, "Fostermother of the skies", in Chehkiang. The other mountains, Chi-Cheng, the "Scarlet Castle", and Tien-tai, the "Terrace of Heaven", are located in the same province. Prince Hsieh is a poet-governor of the 4th century under the Chin dynasty whom Li Po admired immensely.
The sea-farers tell of the Eastern Isle of Bliss,
It is lost in a wilderness of misty sea waves.
But the Sky-land of the south, the Yueh-landers say,
May be seen through cracks of the glimmering cloud.
This land of the sky stretches across the leagues of heaven;
It rises above the Five Mountains and towers over the Scarlet Castle,
While, as if staggering before it, the Tien-tai Peak
Of forty-eight thousand feet leans toward the southeast.
So, longing to dream of the southlands of Wu and Yueh,
I flew across the Mirror Lake one night under the moon.
The moon in the lake followed my flight,
Followed me to the town of Yen-chi.
Here still stands the mansion of Prince Hsieh.
I saw the green waters curl and heard the monkeys' shrill cries.
I climbed, putting on the clogs of the prince,
Skyward on a ladder of clouds,
And half-way up from the sky-wall I saw the morning sun,
And heard the heaven's cock crowing in the mid-air.
Now among a thousand precipices my way wound round and round;
Flowers choked the path; I leaned against a rock; I swooned.
Roaring bears and howling dragons roused me--Oh, the clamorous waters of the rapids!
I trembled in the deep forest, and shuddered at the overhanging crags, one heaped upon another.
Clouds on clouds gathered above, threatening rain;
The waters gushed below, breaking into mist.
A peal of blasting thunder!
The mountains crumbled.
The stone gate of the hollow heaven
Opened wide, revealing
A vasty realm of azure without bottom,
Sun and moon shining together on gold and silver palaces.
Clad in rainbow and riding on the wind,
The ladies of the air descended like flower-flakes;
The fairy lords trooping in, they were thick as hemp-stalks in the fields.
Phoenix birds circled their cars, and panthers played upon harps.
Bewilderment filled me, and terror seized on my heart.
I lifted myself in amazement, and alas!
I woke and found my bed and pillow--
Gone was the radiant world of gossamer.
So with all pleasure of life.
All things pass with the east-flowing water.
I leave you and go--when shall I return?
Let the white roe feed at will among the green crags,
Let me ride and visit the lovely mountains!
How can I stoop obsequiously and serve the mighty ones!
It stifles my soul.
11. On Seeing Off Meng Hao-Jan
(January 1931; New Orleans. Revised November 14, 1932; Pasadena)
Note: The Yellow Crane House stood till a recent date not far from the city of Wu-chang, Hupeh, on a hill overlooking the Yangtze-kiang. Once upon a time the dead man of Shuh, traveling on the back of a yellow crane, stopped here to rest. Hence the name of the house. There is another interesting story just as authentic, according to which: there stood here a tavern kept by a man whose name was Chin, to whom one day a tall rugged professor in rags came and asked very complacently, "I haven't money, will you give me wine?" The tavern keeper was game; he readily offered to the stranger the biggest tumbler and allowed him to help himself to all the wine he wanted day after day for half a year. At last the professor said to Chin, "I owe you some wine money. I'll pay you now." So saying, he took lemon peels and with it smeared on the wall a picture of a yellow crane, which at the clapping of his hands came to life and danced to the tune
of his song.
My friend bade farewell at the Yellow Crane House,
And went down eastward to Willow Valley
Amid the flowers and mists of March.
The lonely sail in the distance
Vanished at last beyond the blue sky.
And I could see only the river
Flowing along the border of heaven.
12. On The Ship Of Spice-Wood
(April 1931; New Orleans. Revised January 15, 1933; Pasadena)
Note: The poet is in his typical mood. The poem is a manifesto of his happy triumphant existence of freedom and of sensual and poetical indulgence. Mu-lan is the name of a precious wood. Chu-ping, or Chu Yuan, 332-295 B.C. was a loyal minister under Huai-wang, the ruler of the Chu state. He is celebrated for his poems, which include the famous Li Sao. The river Han is a large tributary of the Yangtze, which originates in Shensi and flows southwestward through Hupeh, joining the main stream at Hankow.
My ship is built of spice-wood and has a rudder of mu-lan;
Musicians sit at the two ends with jeweled bamboo flutes and pipes of gold.
What a pleasure it is, with a cask of sweet wine
And singing girls beside me,
To drift on the water hither and thither with the waves!
I am happier than the fairy of the air, who rode on his yellow crane.
And free as the merman who followed the sea-gulls aimlessly.
Now with the strokes of my inspired pen I shake the Five Mountains.
My poem is done, I laugh and my delight is vaster than the sea.
Oh, deathless poetry! The songs of Chu-ping are ever glorious as the sun and moon,
While the palaces and towers of the Chu kings have vanished from the hills.
Yea, if worldly fame and riches were things to last forever,
The waters of the River Han would flow north-westward, too.
13. With A Man Of Leisure
(January 1931; New Orleans. Revised January 16, 1933; Pasadena)
Yonder the mountain flowers are out.
We drink together, you and I.
One more cup--one more cup--still one more cup!
Now I am drunk and drowsy, you had better go.
But come to-morrow morning, if you will, with the harp!
14. A Midnight Farewell
(January 17, 1933; Pasadena)
By a pale lantern--under the cold moon
We were drinking heavily together.
Frightened by our orgies, a white heron
Flashed out of the river shallows. It was midnight.
15. Before The Cask Of Wine
(August 7, 1933; Gloucester)
The spring wind comes from the east and quickly passes,
Leaving faint ripples in the wine of the golden bowl.
The flowers fall, flake after flake, myriads together.
You pretty girl, wine-flushed
Your rosy face is rosier still.
How long may the peach and plum trees flower
By the green-painted house?
The fleeting light deceives man,
Brings soon the stumbling age.
Rise and dance
In the westering sun,
While the urge of youthful years is yet unsubdued!
What avails to lament after one's hair has turned white like silken threads?
16. By The Great Wall
(August 8, 1933; Gloucester)
He rides his white charger by the Fortalice of Gold,
She wanders in dreams amid the desert cloud and sand.
It is a season of sorrow that she scarce can endure,
Thinking of her soldier lover at the border fort.
The fireflies, flitting about, swarm at her window,
While the moon slowly passes over her solitary bower.
The leaves of the green paulonia are tattered;
And the branches of the sha-tung blasted and sere.
There is not an hour but she, alone, unseen,
Weeps--only to learn how futile all her tears are.
17. I Am A Peach Tree
(August 11, 1933; Gloucester)
Note: These two stanzas are taken from a poem written by Li Po in behalf of his wife, expressing her sentiment toward himself.
I am a peach tree blossoming in a deep pit.
Who is there I may turn to and smile?
You are the moon up in the far sky;
Passing, you looked down on me an hour; then went on forever.
A sword with the keenest edge,
Could not cut the stream of water in twain
So that it would cease to flow.
My thought is like the stream; and flows and follows you on forever.
