shí nián shí qī　　dú zài yì xiāng wéi yì kè， měi féng jiā jié bèi sī qīn。
　　 yáo zhī xiōng dì dēng gāo chù， biàn chā zhū yú shǎo yī rén。

　　All alone in a foreign land,
　　I am twice as homesick on this day
　　When brothers carry dogwood up the mountain,
　　Each of them a branch-and my branch missing.

　　tài yǐ jìn tiān dū， lián shān dào hǎi yú。
　　 bái yún huí wàng hé， qīng 'ǎi rù kàn wú。
　　 fēn yě zhōng fēng biàn， yīn qíng zhòng hè zhū。
　　 yù tóu rén chù sù， gé shuǐ wèn qiáo fū。

　　Its massive height near the City of Heaven
　　Joins a thousand mountains to the corner of the sea.
　　Clouds, when I look back, close behind me,
　　Mists, when I enter them, are gone.
　　A central peak divides the wilds
　　And weather into many valleys.
　　...Needing a place to spend the night,
　　I call to a wood-cutter over the river.

　　shān zhōng xiāng sòng bà， rì mù yǎn chái fēi。
　　 chūn cǎo nián nián lǜ， wáng sūn guī bù guī？

　　We finally parted in the dale. As I saw
　　The sun settle down, I closed my wattle door.
　　The grass greens in spring every year, but alack!
　　My friend, can I expect to see you back?

　　dú zuò yōu huáng lǐ， tánqín fù cháng xiào。
　　 shēn lín rén bù zhī， míng yuè lái xiāng zhào。

　　I sit alone by the serene bamboos,
　　Strumming my zither and whistling.
　　No one knows I'm in the deep woods,
　　Only the moon comes watching.
　　
　　
　　2) Bamboo Adobe
　　By Wang Wei
　　Translated by Liu Wu-chi
　　
　　I sit along in the dark bamboo grove,
　　Playing the zither and whistling long.
　　In this deep wood no one would know -
　　Only the bright moon comes to shine.
　　
　　
　　3) Hut in the Bamboos
　　
　　Sitting alone, in the hush of the bamboo;
　　I thrum my zither, and whistle lingering notes.
　　In the secrecy of the wood, no one can hear;
　　Only the clear moon, comes to shine on me.
　　
　　
　　4) In a Retreat Among Bamboos
　　Translated by Witter Bynner
　　
　　Leaning alone in the close bamboos,
　　I am playing my lute and humming a song
　　Too softly for anyone to hear –
　　Except my comrade, the bright moon.

　　kōng shān bù jiàn rén， dàn wén rén yǔ xiǎng。
　　 fǎn yǐng rù shēn lín， fù zhào qīng tái shàng。

　　There seems to be no one on the empty mountain....
　　And yet I think I hear a voice,
　　Where sunlight, entering a grove,
　　Shines back to me from the green moss.

　　rén jiān guì huā luò， yè jìng chūn shān kōng。
　　 yuè chū jīng shān niǎo， shí míng chūn jiàn zhōng。

　　xià mǎ yǐn jūn jiǔ， wèn jūn hé suǒ zhī。
　　 jūn yán bù dé yì， guī wò nán shān chuí。
　　 dàn qù mò fù wèn， bái yún wú jìn shí。

　　I dismount from my horse and I offer you wine,
　　And I ask you where you are going and why.
　　And you answer: "I am discontent
　　And would rest at the foot of the southern mountain.
　　So give me leave and ask me no questions.
　　White clouds pass there without end."

　　shèng dài wú yǐn zhě， yīng líng jìn lái guī。
　　 suì lìng dōng shān kè， bù dé gù cǎi wēi。
　　 jì zhì jīn mén yuǎn， shú yún wú dào fēi。
　　 jiāng huái dù hán shí， jīng luò féng chūn yī。
　　 zhì jiǔ cháng 'ān dào， tóng xīn yǔ wǒ wéi。
　　 hángdāng fú guì zhào， wèi jǐ fú jīng fēi。
　　 yuǎn shù dài xíng kè， gū chéng dāng luò huī。
　　 wú móu shì bù yòng， wù wèi zhī yīn xī。

　　In a happy reign there should be no hermits;
　　The wise and able should consult together....
　　So you, a man of the eastern mountains,
　　Gave up your life of picking herbs
　　And came all the way to the Gate of Gold --
　　But you found your devotion unavailing.
　　...To spend the Day of No Fire on one of the southern rivers,
　　You have mended your spring clothes here in these northern cities.
　　I pour you the farewell wine as you set out from the capital --
　　Soon I shall be left behind here by my bosomfriend.
　　In your sail-boat of sweet cinnamon-wood
　　You will float again toward your own thatch door,
　　Led along by distant trees
　　To a sunset shining on a far-away town.
　　...What though your purpose happened to fail,
　　Doubt not that some of us can hear high music.

　　yán rù huáng huā chuān， měi zhú qīng xī shuǐ。
　　 suí shān jiāng wàn zhuǎn， qù tú wú bǎi lǐ。
　　 shēng xuān luàn shí zhōng， sè jìng shēn sōng lǐ。
　　 yàng yàng fàn líng xìng， chéng chéng yìng jiā wěi。
　　 wǒ xīn sù yǐ xián， qīng chuān dàn rú cǐ。
　　 qǐng liú pán shí shàng， chuí diào jiāng yǐ yǐ。

　　I have sailed the River of Yellow Flowers,
　　Borne by the channel of a green stream,
　　Rounding ten thousand turns through the mountains
　　On a journey of less than thirty miles....
　　Rapids hum over heaped rocks;
　　But where light grows dim in the thick pines,
　　The surface of an inlet sways with nut-horns
　　And weeds are lush along the banks.
　　...Down in my heart I have always been as pure
　　As this limpid water is....
　　Oh, to remain on a broad flat rock
　　And to cast a fishing-line forever!

　　xié yáng zhào xū luò， qióng xiàng niú yáng guī。
　　 yě lǎo niàn mù tóng， yǐ zhàng hòu jīng fēi。
　　 zhì gòu mài miáo xiù， cán mián sāng yè xī。
　　 tián fū hèchú zhì， xiāng jiàn yǔ yǐ yǐ。
　　 jí cǐ xiàn xián yì， chàng rán yín《 shì wēi》。

　　In the slant of the sun on the country-side,
　　Cattle and sheep trail home along the lane;
　　And a rugged old man in a thatch door
　　Leans on a staff and thinks of his son, the herdboy.
　　There are whirring pheasants? full wheat-ears,
　　Silk-worms asleep, pared mulberry-leaves.
　　And the farmers, returning with hoes on their shoulders,
　　Hail one another familiarly.
　　...No wonder I long for the simple life
　　And am sighing the old song, Oh, to go Back Again!

　　yàn sè tiān xià zhòng， xī shī níng jiǔ wēi。
　　 cháo wéi yuè xī nǚ， mù zuò wú gōng fēi。
　　 jiàn rì qǐ shū zhòng， guì lái fāng wù xī。
　　 yāo rén fù zhī fěn， bù zì zhù luó yī。
　　 jūn chǒng yì jiāo tài， jūn lián wú shì fēi。
　　 dāng shí huàn shā bàn， mò dé tóng chē guī。
　　 chí xiè lín jiā zǐ， xiào pín 'ān kě xī。

　　Since beauty is honoured all over the Empire,
　　How could Xi Shi remain humbly at home? --
　　Washing clothes at dawn by a southern lake --
　　And that evening a great lady in a palace of the north:
　　Lowly one day, no different from the others,
　　The next day exalted, everyone praising her.
　　No more would her own hands powder her face
　　Or arrange on her shoulders a silken robe.
　　And the more the King loved her, the lovelier she looked,
　　Blinding him away from wisdom.
　　...Girls who had once washed silk beside her
　　Were kept at a distance from her chariot.
　　And none of the girls in her neighbours' houses
　　By pursing their brows could copy her beauty.

　　luò yáng nǚ 'ér duì mén jū， cái kě róng yán shí wǔ yú。
　　 liáng rén yù lè chéng cōng mǎ， shì nǚ jīn pán kuài lǐ yú。
　　 huà gé zhū lóu jìn xiāng wàng， hóng táo lǜ liǔ chuí yán xiàng。
　　 luó wéi sòng shàng qī xiāng chē， bǎo shàn yíng guī jiǔ huá zhàng。
　　 kuáng fū fù guì zài qīng chūn， yì qì jiāo shē jù jì lún。
　　 zì lián bì yù qīn jiào wǔ， bù xī shān hú chí yǔ rén。
　　 chūn chuāng shǔ miè jiǔ wēi huǒ， jiǔ wēi piàn piàn fēi huā suǒ。
　　 xì bà céng wú lǐ qū shí， zhuāng chéng zhī shì xūn xiāng zuò。
　　 chéng zhōng xiāng shí jìn fán huá， rì yè jīng guò zhào lǐ jiā。
　　 shuí lián yuè nǚ yán rú yù， pín jiàn jiāng tóu zì huàn shā。

　　There's a girl from Loyang in the door across the street,
　　She looks fifteen, she may be a little older.
　　...While her master rides his rapid horse with jade bit an bridle,
　　Her handmaid brings her cod-fish in a golden plate.
　　On her painted pavilions, facing red towers,
　　Cornices are pink and green with peach-bloom and with willow,
　　Canopies of silk awn her seven-scented chair,
　　And rare fans shade her, home to her nine-flowered curtains.
　　Her lord, with rank and wealth and in the bud of life,
　　Exceeds in munificence the richest men of old.
　　He favours this girl of lowly birth, he has her taught to dance;
　　And he gives away his coral-trees to almost anyone.
　　The wind of dawn just stirs when his nine soft lights go out,
　　Those nine soft lights like petals in a flying chain of flowers.
　　Between dances she has barely time for singing over the songs;
　　No sooner is she dressed again than incense burns before her.
　　Those she knows in town are only the rich and the lavish,
　　And day and night she is visiting the hosts of the gayest mansions.
　　...Who notices the girl from Yue with a face of white jade,
　　Humble, poor, alone, by the river, washing silk?

　　shàonián shí wǔ 'èr shí shí， bù xíng duó dé hú mǎ qí。
　　 shè shā shān zhōng bái 'é hǔ， kěn shù yè xià huáng xū 'ér。
　　 yī shēn zhuǎn zhàn sān qiān lǐ， yī jiàn céng dāng bǎi wàn shī。
　　 hàn bīng fèn xùn rú pī lì， lǔ qí bēng téng wèi jí lí。
　　 wèi qīng bù bài yóu tiān xìng， lǐ guǎng wú gōng yuán shùjī。
　　 zì cóng qì zhì biàn shuāi xiǔ， shì shì cuō tuó chéng bái shǒu。
　　 xī shí fēi jiàn wú quán mù， jīn rì chuí yáng shēng zuǒ zhǒu。
　　 lù bàng shí mài gù hóu guā， mén qián xué zhǒng xiān shēng liǔ。
　　 cāng máng gǔ mù lián qióng xiàng， liáo luò hán shān duì xū yǒu。
　　 shì lìng shū lè chū fēi quán， bù sì yǐng chuān kōng shǐ jiǔ。
　　 hè lán shān xià zhèn rú yún， yǔ xí jiāo chí rì xī wén。
　　 jié shǐ sān hé mù niánshào， zhào shū wǔ dào chū jiāng jūn。
　　 shì fú tiě yī rú xuě sè， liáo chí bǎo jiàn dòng xīng wén。
　　 yuàn dé yàn gōng shè dàjiàng， chǐ lìng yuè jiá míng wú jūn。
　　 mò xián jiù rì yún zhōng shǒu， yóu kān yī zhàn lì gōng xūn。

　　When he was a youth of fifteen or twenty,
　　He chased a wild horse, he caught him and rode him,
　　He shot the white-browed mountain tiger,
　　He defied the yellow-bristled Horseman of Ye.
　　Fighting single- handed for a thousand miles,
　　With his naked dagger he could hold a multitude.
　　...Granted that the troops of China were as swift as heaven's thunder
　　And that Tartar soldiers perished in pitfalls fanged with iron,
　　General Wei Qing's victory was only a thing of chance.
　　And General Li Guang's thwarted effort was his fate, not his fault.
　　Since this man's retirement he is looking old and worn:
　　Experience of the world has hastened his white hairs.
　　Though once his quick dart never missed the right eye of a bird,
　　Now knotted veins and tendons make his left arm like an osier.
　　He is sometimes at the road-side selling melons from his garden,
　　He is sometimes planting willows round his hermitage.
　　His lonely lane is shut away by a dense grove,
　　His vacant window looks upon the far cold mountains
　　But, if he prayed, the waters would come gushing for his men
　　And never would he wanton his cause away with wine.
　　...War-clouds are spreading, under the Helan Range;
　　Back and forth, day and night, go feathered messages;
　　In the three River Provinces, the governors call young men –
　　And five imperial edicts have summoned the old general.
　　So he dusts his iron coat and shines it like snow-
　　Waves his dagger from its jade hilt in a dance of starry steel.
　　He is ready with his strong northern bow to smite the Tartar chieftain –
　　That never a foreign war-dress may affront the Emperor.
　　...There once was an aged Prefect, forgotten and far away,
　　Who still could manage triumph with a single stroke.

　　yú zhōu zhú shuǐ 'ài shān chūn， liǎng 'àn táo huā jiā gǔ jīn。
　　 zuò kàn hóng shù bù zhī yuǎn， xíng jìn qīng xī bù jiàn rén。
　　 shān kǒu qián xíng shǐ wēi yù， shān kāi kuàng wàng xuán píng lù。
　　 yáo kàn yī chù cuán yún shù， jìn rù qiān jiā sàn huā zhú。
　　 qiáo kè chū chuán hàn xìng míng， jū rén wèi gǎi qín yī fú。
　　 jū rén gòng zhù wǔ líng yuán， hái cóng wù wài qǐ tián yuán。
　　 yuè míng sōng xià fáng lóng jìng， rì chū yún zhōng jī quǎn xuān。
　　 jīng wén sú kè zhēng lái jí， jìng yǐn hái jiā wèn dū yì。
　　 píng míng lǘ xiàng sǎo huā kāi， bó mù yú qiáo chéng shuǐ rù。
　　 chū yīn bì dì qù rén jiān， gèng wèn shén xiān suì bù hái。
　　 xiá lǐ shuí zhī yòu rén shì， shì zhōng yáo wàng kōng yún shān。
　　 bù yí líng jìng nán wén jiàn， chén xīn wèi jìn sī xiāng xiàn。
　　 chū dòng wú lùn gé shān shuǐ， cí jiā zhōng nǐ cháng yóu yǎn。
　　 zì wèi jīng guò jiù bù mí， ān zhī fēng hè jīn lái biàn。
　　 dāng shí zhǐ jì rù shān shēn， qīng xī jǐ dù dào yún lín。
　　 chūn lái biàn shì táo huā shuǐ， bù biàn xiān yuán hé chù xún。

　　A fisherman is drifting, enjoying the spring mountains,
　　And the peach-trees on both banks lead him to an ancient source.
　　Watching the fresh-coloured trees, he never thinks of distance
　　Till he comes to the end of the blue stream and suddenly- strange men!
　　It's a cave-with a mouth so narrow that he has to crawl through;
　　But then it opens wide again on a broad and level path –
　　And far beyond he faces clouds crowning a reach of trees,
　　And thousands of houses shadowed round with flowers and bamboos....
　　Woodsmen tell him their names in the ancient speech of Han;
　　And clothes of the Qin Dynasty are worn by all these people
　　Living on the uplands, above the Wuling River,
　　On farms and in gardens that are like a world apart,
　　Their dwellings at peace under pines in the clear moon,
　　Until sunrise fills the low sky with crowing and barking.
　　...At news of a stranger the people all assemble,
　　And each of them invites him home and asks him where he was born.
　　Alleys and paths are cleared for him of petals in the morning,
　　And fishermen and farmers bring him their loads at dusk....
　　They had left the world long ago, they had come here seeking refuge;
　　They have lived like angels ever since, blessedly far away,
　　No one in the cave knowing anything outside,
　　Outsiders viewing only empty mountains and thick clouds.
　　...The fisherman, unaware of his great good fortune,
　　Begins to think of country, of home, of worldly ties,
　　Finds his way out of the cave again, past mountains and past rivers,
　　Intending some time to return, when he has told his kin.
　　He studies every step he takes, fixes it well in mind,
　　And forgets that cliffs and peaks may vary their appearance.
　　...It is certain that to enter through the deepness of the mountain,
　　A green river leads you, into a misty wood.
　　But now, with spring-floods everywhere and floating peachpetals –
　　Which is the way to go, to find that hidden source?

　　hán shān zhuǎn cāng cuì， qiū shuǐ rì chán yuán。
　　 yǐ zhàng chái mén wài， lín fēng tīng mù chán。
　　 dù tóu yú luò rì， xū lǐ shàng gū yān。
　　 fù zhí jiē yú zuì， kuáng gē wǔ liǔ qián。

　　The mountains are cold and blue now
　　And the autumn waters have run all day.
　　By my thatch door, leaning on my staff,
　　I listen to cicadas in the evening wind.
　　Sunset lingers at the ferry,
　　Supper-smoke floats up from the houses.
　　...Oh, when shall I pledge the great Hermit again
　　And sing a wild poem at Five Willows?

　　kōng shān xīn yǔ hòu， tiān qì wǎn lái qiū。
　　 míng yuè sōng jiān zhào， qīng quán shí shàng liú。
　　 zhú xuān guī huàn nǚ， lián dòng xià yú zhōu。
　　 suí yì chūn fāng xiē， wáng sūn zì kě liú。

　　After rain the empty mountain
　　Stands autumnal in the evening,
　　Moonlight in its groves of pine,
　　Stones of crystal in its brooks.
　　Bamboos whisper of washer-girls bound home,
　　Lotus-leaves yield before a fisher-boat –
　　And what does it matter that springtime has gone,
　　While you are here, O Prince of Friends?

　　qīng chuān dài cháng bó， chē mǎ qù xián xián。
　　 liú shuǐ rú yòu yì， mù qín xiāng yǔ hái。
　　 huāng chéng lín gǔ dù， luò rì mǎn qiū shān。
　　 tiáo dì sōng gāo xià， guī lái qiě bì guān。

　　The limpid river, past its bushes
　　Running slowly as my chariot,
　　Becomes a fellow voyager
　　Returning home with the evening birds.
　　A ruined city-wall overtops an old ferry,
　　Autumn sunset floods the peaks.
　　...Far away, beside Mount Song,
　　I shall close my door and be at peace.

　　wǎn nián wéi hǎo jìng， wàn shì bù guān xīn。
　　 zì gù wú cháng cè， kōng zhī fǎn jiù lín。
　　 sōng fēng chuī jiě dài， shān yuè zhào tánqín。
　　 jūn wèn qióng tōng lǐ， yú gē rù pǔ shēn。

　　As the years go by, give me but peace,
　　Freedom from ten thousand matters.
　　I ask myself and always answer:
　　What can be better than coming home?
　　A wind from the pine-trees blows my sash,
　　And my lute is bright with the mountain moon.
　　You ask me about good and evil fortune?....
　　Hark, on the lake there's a fisherman singing!

　　bù zhī xiāng jī sì， shù lǐ rù yún fēng。
　　 gǔ mù wú rén jìng， shēn shān hé chù zhōng。
　　 quán shēng yān wēi shí， rì sè lěng qīng sōng。
　　 bó mù kōng tán qū， ān chán zhì dú lóng。

　　Not knowing the way to the Temple of Heaped Fragrance,
　　Under miles of mountain-cloud I have wandered
　　Through ancient woods without a human track;
　　But now on the height I hear a bell.
　　A rillet sings over winding rocks,
　　The sun is tempered by green pines....
　　And at twilight, close to an emptying pool,
　　Thought can conquer the Passion-Dragon.

　　wàn hè shù cān tiān， qiān shān xiǎng dù juān。
　　 shān zhōng yī yè yǔ， shù miǎo bǎi zhòng quán。
　　 hàn nǚ shū tóng bù， bā rén sòng yù tián。
　　 wén wēng fān jiào shòu， bù gǎn yǐ xiān xián。

　　From ten thousand valleys the trees touch heaven;
　　On a thousand peaks cuckoos are calling;
　　And, after a night of mountain rain,
　　From each summit come hundreds of silken cascades.
　　...If girls are asked in tribute the fibre they weave,
　　Or farmers quarrel over taro fields,
　　Preside as wisely as Wenweng did....
　　Is fame to be only for the ancients?

　　chǔ sài sān xiāng jiē， jīng mén jiǔ pài tōng。
　　 jiāng liú tiān dì wài， shān sè yòu wú zhōng。
　　 jùn yì fú qián pǔ， bō lán dòng yuǎn kōng。
　　 xiāng yáng hǎo fēng rì， liú zuì yǔ shān wēng。

　　With its three southern branches reaching the Chu border,
　　And its nine streams touching the gateway of Jing,
　　This river runs beyond heaven and earth,
　　Where the colour of mountains both is and is not.
　　The dwellings of men seem floating along
　　On ripples of the distant sky –
　　These beautiful days here in Xiangyang
　　Make drunken my old mountain heart!

　　zhōng suì pō hǎo dào， wǎn jiā nán shān chuí。
　　 xīng lái měi dú wǎng， shèng shì kōng zì zhī。
　　 xíng dào shuǐ qióng chù， zuò kàn yún qǐ shí。
　　 ǒu rán zhí lín sǒu， tán xiào wú hái qī。

　　My heart in middle age found the Way.
　　And I came to dwell at the foot of this mountain.
　　When the spirit moves, I wander alone
　　Amid beauty that is all for me....
　　I will walk till the water checks my path,
　　Then sit and watch the rising clouds –
　　And some day meet an old wood-cutter
　　And talk and laugh and never return.

　　jiàng zé jī rén bào xiǎo chóu， shàng yī fāng jìn cuì yún qiú。
　　 jiǔ tiān chāng hé kāi gōng diàn， wàn guó yī guān bài miǎn liú。
　　 rì sè cái lín xiān zhǎng dòng， xiāng yān yù bàng ɡǔn lóng fú。
　　 cháo bà xū cái wǔ sè zhào， pèi shēng guī dào fèng chí tóu。

　　The red-capped Cock-Man has just announced morning;
　　The Keeper of the Robes brings Jade-Cloud Furs;
　　Heaven's nine doors reveal the palace and its courtyards;
　　And the coats of many countries bow to the Pearl Crown.
　　Sunshine has entered the giants' carven palms;
　　Incense wreathes the Dragon Robe:
　　The audience adjourns-and the five-coloured edict
　　Sets girdle-beads clinking toward the Lake of the Phoenix.

　　wèi shuǐ zì yíng qín sài qū， huáng shān jiù rào hàn gōng xié。
　　 luán yú jiǒng chū qiān mén liǔ， gé dào huí kàn shàng yuàn huā。
　　 yún lǐ dì chéng shuāng fèng jué， yǔ zhōng chūn shù wàn rén jiā。
　　 wéi chéng yáng qì xíng shí lìng， bù shì chén yóu wán wù huá。

　　Round a turn of the Qin Fortress winds the Wei River,
　　And Yellow Mountain foot-hills enclose the Court of China;
　　Past the South Gate willows comes the Car of Many Bells
　　On the upper Palace-Garden Road-a solid length of blossom;
　　A Forbidden City roof holds two phoenixes in cloud;
　　The foliage of spring shelters multitudes from rain;
　　And now, when the heavens are propitious for action,
　　Here is our Emperor ready-no wasteful wanderer.