jūn wèn guī qī wèi yòu qī， bā shān yè yǔ zhǎng qiū chí。
　　 hé dāng gòng jiǎn xī chuāng zhú， què huà bā shān yè yǔ shí。

　　You ask me when I am coming. I do not know.
　　I dream of your mountains and autumn pools brimming all night with the rain.
　　Oh, when shall we be trimming wicks again, together in your western window?
　　When shall I be hearing your voice again, all night in the rain?

　　shēn jū fǔ jiā chéng，
　　 chūn qù xià yóu qīng。
　　 tiān yì lián yōu cǎo，
　　 rén jiān zhòng wǎn qíng。
　　 bìng tiān gāo gé huí，
　　 wēi zhù xiǎo chuāng míng。
　　 yuè niǎo cháo gān hòu，
　　 guī fēi tǐ gèng qīng。

　　yuán hé tiān zǐ shén wǔ zī， bǐ hé rén zāi xuān yǔ xī。
　　 shì jiāng shàng xuě liè shèng chǐ， zuò fǎ gōng zhōng cháo sì yí。
　　 huái xī yòu zéi wǔ shízǎi， fēng láng shēng chū chū shēng pí。
　　 bù jù shān hé jù píng dì， cháng gē lì máo rì kě huī。
　　 dì dé shèng xiāng xiāng yuē dù， zéi zhuó bù sǐ shén fú chí。
　　 yāo xuán xiāng yìn zuò dū tǒng， yīn fēng cǎn dàn tiān wáng qí。
　　 sù wǔ gǔ tōng zuò yá zhǎo， yí cáo wài láng zài bǐ suí。
　　 xíng jūn sī mǎ zhì qiě yǒng， shí sì wàn zhòng yóu hǔ pí。
　　 rù cài fù zéi xiàn tài miào， gōng wú yǔ ràng 'ēn bù zǐ。
　　 dì yuē rǔ dù gōng dì yī， rǔ cóng shì yù yí wéi cí。
　　 yù bài qǐshǒu dǎo qiě wǔ， jīn shí kè huà chén néng wéi。
　　 gǔ zhě shì chēng dà shǒu bǐ， cǐ shì bù xì yú zhí sī。
　　 dāng rén zì gǔ yòu bù ràng， yán qì lǚ hàn tiān zǐ yí。
　　 gōng tuì zhāi jiè zuò xiǎo gé， rú rǎn dà bǐ hé lín lí。
　　 diǎn cuàn yáo diǎn shùn diǎn zì， tú gǎi qīng miào shēng mín shī。
　　 wén chéng pò tǐ shū zài zhǐ， qīng chén zài bài pū dān chí。
　　 biǎo yuē chén yù mèi sǐ shàng， yǒng shén shèng gōng shū zhī bēi。
　　 bēi gāo sān zhàng zì rú dǒu， fù yǐ líng 'áo pán yǐ chī。
　　 jù qí yǔ zhòng yù zhě shǎo， chán zhī tiān zǐ yán qí sī。
　　 cháng shéng bǎi chǐ zhuài bēi dǎo， cū shā dà shí xiāng mó zhì。
　　 gōng zhī sī wén ruò yuán qì， xiān shí yǐ rù rén gān pí。
　　 tānɡ pán kǒng dǐng yòu shù zuò， jīn wú qí qì cún qí cí。
　　 wū hū shèng wáng jí shèng xiāng， xiāng yǔ xuǎn hè liú chún xī。
　　 gōng zhī sī wén bù shì hòu， hé yǔ sān wǔ xiāng pān zhuī。
　　 yuàn shū wàn běn sòng wàn biàn， kǒu jiǎo liú mò yòu shǒu zhī。
　　 chuán zhī qī shí yòu 'èr dài， yǐ wéi fēngshàn yù jiǎn míng táng jī。

　　The Son of Heaven in Yuanhe times was martial as a god
　　And might be likened only to the Emperors Xuan and Xi.
　　He took an oath to reassert the glory of the empire,
　　And tribute was brought to his palace from all four quarters.
　　Western Huai for fifty years had been a bandit country,
　　Wolves becoming lynxes, lynxes becoming bears.
　　They assailed the mountains and rivers, rising from the plains,
　　With their long spears and sharp lances aimed at the Sun.
　　But the Emperor had a wise premier, by the name of Du,
　　Who, guarded by spirits against assassination,
　　Hong at his girdle the seal of state, and accepted chief command,
　　While these savage winds were harrying the flags of the Ruler of Heaven.
　　Generals Suo, Wu, Gu, and Tong became his paws and claws;
　　Civil and military experts brought their writingbrushes,
　　And his recording adviser was wise and resolute.
　　A hundred and forty thousand soldiers, fighting like lions and tigers,
　　Captured the bandit chieftains for the Imperial Temple.
　　So complete a victory was a supreme event;
　　And the Emperor said: "To you, Du, should go the highest honour,
　　And your secretary, Yu, should write a record of it."
　　When Yu had bowed his head, he leapt and danced, saying:
　　"Historical writings on stone and metal are my especial art;
　　And, since I know the finest brush-work of the old masters,
　　My duty in this instance is more than merely official,
　　And I should be at fault if I modestly declined."
　　The Emperor, on hearing this, nodded many times.
　　And Yu retired and fasted and, in a narrow workroom,
　　His great brush thick with ink as with drops of rain,
　　Chose characters like those in the Canons of Yao and Xun,
　　And a style as in the ancient poems Qingmiao and Shengmin.
　　And soon the description was ready, on a sheet of paper.
　　In the morning he laid it, with a bow, on the purple stairs.
　　He memorialized the throne: "I, unworthy,
　　Have dared to record this exploit, for a monument."
　　The tablet was thirty feet high, the characters large as dippers;
　　It was set on a sacred tortoise, its columns flanked with ragons....
　　The phrases were strange with deep words that few could understand;
　　And jealousy entered and malice and reached the Emperor --
　　So that a rope a hundred feet long pulled the tablet down
　　And coarse sand and small stones ground away its face.
　　But literature endures, like the universal spirit,
　　And its breath becomes a part of the vitals of all men.
　　The Tang plate, the Confucian tripod, are eternal things,
　　Not because of their forms, but because of their inscriptions....
　　Sagacious is our sovereign and wise his minister,
　　And high their successes and prosperous their reign;
　　But unless it be recorded by a writing such as this,
　　How may they hope to rival the three and five good rulers?
　　I wish I could write ten thousand copies to read ten thousand times,
　　Till spittle ran from my lips and calluses hardened my fingers,
　　And still could hand them down, through seventy-two generations,
　　As corner-stones for Rooms of Great Deeds on the Sacred Mountains.

　　běn yǐ gāo nán bǎo， tú láo hèn fèi shēng。
　　 wǔ gèng shū yù duàn， yī shù bì wú qíng。
　　 bó huàn gěng yóu fàn， gù yuán wú yǐ píng。
　　 fán jūn zuì xiāng jǐng， wǒ yì jǔ jiā qīng。

　　Pure of heart and therefore hungry,
　　All night long you have sung in vain –
　　Oh, this final broken indrawn breath
　　Among the green indifferent trees!
　　Yes, I have gone like a piece of driftwood,
　　I have let my garden fill with weeds....
　　I bless you for your true advice
　　To live as pure a life as yours.

　　qī liáng bǎo jiàn piān， jī bó yù qióng nián。
　　 huáng yè réng fēng yǔ， qīng lóu zì guǎn xián。
　　 xīn zhī zāo bó sú， jiù hǎo gé liáng yuán。
　　 xīn duàn xīn fēng jiǔ， xiāo chóu yòu jǐ qiān。

　　I ponder on the poem of The Precious Dagger.
　　My road has wound through many years.
　　...Now yellow leaves are shaken with a gale;
　　Yet piping and fiddling keep the Blue Houses merry.
　　On the surface, I seem to be glad of new people;
　　But doomed to leave old friends behind me,
　　I cry out from my heart for Xinfeng wine
　　To melt away my thousand woes.

　　gāo gé kè jìng qù， xiǎo yuán huā luàn fēi。
　　 cēncī lián qū mò， tiáo dì sòng xié huī。
　　 cháng duàn wèi rěn sǎo， yǎn chuān réng yù guī。
　　 fāng xīn xiàng chūn jìn， suǒ dé shì zhān yī。

　　Gone is the guest from the Chamber of Rank,
　　And petals, confused in my little garden,
　　Zigzagging down my crooked path,
　　Escort like dancers the setting sun.
　　Oh, how can I bear to sweep them away?
　　To a sad-eyed watcher they never return.
　　Heart's fragrance is spent with the ending of spring
　　And nothing left but a tear-stained robe.

　　kè qù bō píng jiàn， chán xiū lù mǎn zhī。
　　 yǒng huái dāng cǐ jié， yǐ lì zì yí shí。
　　 běi dǒu jiān chūn yuǎn， nán líng yù shǐ chí。
　　 tiān yá zhàn mèng shù， yí wù yòu xīn zhī。

　　You are gone. The river is high at my door.
　　Cicadas are mute on dew-laden boughs.
　　This is a moment when thoughts enter deep.
　　I stand alone for a long while.
　　...The North Star is nearer to me now than spring,
　　And couriers from your southland never arrive –
　　Yet I doubt my dream on the far horizon
　　That you have found another friend.

　　cán yáng xī rù yān， máo wū fǎng gū sēng。
　　 luò yè rén hé zài， hán yún lù jǐ céng。
　　 dú qiāo chū yè qìng， xián yǐ yī zhī téng。
　　 shì jiè wēi chén lǐ， wú níng 'ài yǔ zēng。

　　Where the sun has entered the western hills,
　　I look for a monk in his little straw hut;
　　But only the fallen leaves are at home,
　　And I turn through chilling levels of cloud
　　
　　I hear a stone gong in the dusk,
　　I lean full-weight on my slender staff
　　How within this world, within this grain of dust,
　　Can there be any room for the passions of men?

　　jǐn sè wú duān wǔ shí xián， yī xián yī zhù sī huá nián。
　　 zhuāng shēng xiǎo mèng mí hú dié， wàng dì chūn xīn tuō dù juān。
　　 cāng hǎi yuè míng zhū yòu lèi， lán tián rì nuǎn yù shēng yān。
　　 cǐ qíng kě dài chéng zhuī yì， zhǐ shì dāng shí yǐ wǎng rán。

　　I wonder why my inlaid harp has fifty strings,
　　Each with its flower-like fret an interval of youth.
　　...The sage Chuangzi is day-dreaming, bewitched by butterflies,
　　The spring-heart of Emperor Wang is crying in a cuckoo,
　　Mermen weep their pearly tears down a moon-green sea,
　　Blue fields are breathing their jade to the sun....
　　And a moment that ought to have lasted for ever
　　Has come and gone before I knew.

　　zuó yè xīng chén zuó yè fēng， huà lóu xī pàn guì táng dōng。
　　 shēn wú cǎi fèng shuāng fēi yì， xīn yòu líng xī yī diǎn tōng。
　　 gé zuò sòng gōu chūn jiǔ nuǎn， fēn cáo shè fù là dēng hóng。
　　 jiē yú tīng gǔ yìng guān qù， zǒu mǎ lán tái lèi zhuǎn péng。

　　The stars of last night and the wind of last night
　　Are west of the Painted Chamber and east of Cinnamon Hall.
　　...Though I have for my body no wings like those of the bright- coloured phoenix,
　　Yet I feel the harmonious heart-beat of the Sacred Unicorn.
　　Across the spring-wine, while it warms me, I prompt you how to bet
　　Where, group by group, we are throwing dice in the light of a crimson lamp;
　　Till the rolling of a drum, alas, calls me to my duties
　　And I mount my horse and ride away, like a water-plant cut adrift.

　　zǐ quán gōng diàn suǒ yān xiá， yù qǔ wú chéng zuò dì jiā。
　　 yù xǐ bù yuán guī rì jiǎo， jǐn fān yīngshì dào tiān yá。
　　 yú jīn fǔ cǎo wú yíng huǒ， zhōng gǔ chuí yáng yòu mù yā。
　　 dì xià ruò féng chén hòu zhù， qǐ yí zhòng wèn hòu tíng huā。

　　His Palace of Purple Spring has been taken by mist and cloud,
　　As he would have taken all Yangzhou to be his private domain
　　But for the seal of imperial jade being seized by the first Tang Emperor,
　　He would have bounded with his silken sails the limits of the world.
　　Fire-flies are gone now, have left the weathered grasses,
　　But still among the weeping-willows crows perch at twilight.
　　...If he meets, there underground, the Later Chen Emperor,
　　Do you think that they will mention a Song of Courtyard Flowers?

　　lái shì kōng yán qù jué zōng， yuè xié lóu shàng wǔ gèng zhōng。
　　 mèng wéi yuǎn bié tí nán huàn， shū bèi cuī chéng mò wèi nóng。
　　 là zhào bàn lóng jīn fěi cuì， shè xūn wēi dù xiù fú róng。
　　 liú láng yǐ hèn péng shān yuǎn， gèng gé péng shān yī wàn zhòng。

　　You said you would come, but you did not, and you left me with no other trace
　　Than the moonlight on your tower at the fifth-watch bell.
　　I cry for you forever gone, I cannot waken yet,
　　I try to read your hurried note, I find the ink too pale.
　　...Blue burns your candle in its kingfisher-feather lantern
　　And a sweet breath steals from your hibiscus-broidered curtain.
　　But far beyond my reach is the Enchanted Mountain,
　　And you are on the other side, ten thousand peaks away.

　　sà sà dōng fēng xì yǔ lái， fú róng táng wài yòu qīng léi。
　　 jīn chán niè suǒ shāo xiāng rù， yù hǔ qiān sī jí jǐng huí。
　　 jiǎ shì kuī lián hán yuàn shǎo， mì fēi liú zhěn wèi wáng cái。
　　 chūn xīn mò gòng huā zhēng fā， yī cùn xiāng sī yī cùn huī。

　　A misty rain comes blowing with a wind from the east,
　　And wheels faintly thunder beyond Hibiscus Pool.
　　...Round the golden-toad lock, incense is creeping;
　　The jade tiger tells, on its cord, of water being drawn
　　A great lady once, from behind a screen, favoured a poor youth;
　　A fairy queen brought a bridal mat once for the ease of a prince and then vanished.
　　...Must human hearts blossom in spring, like all other flowers?
　　And of even this bright flame of love, shall there be only ashes?

　　yuán niǎo yóu yí wèi jiǎn shū， fēng yún cháng wéi hù chǔ xū。
　　 tú lìng shàngjiàng huī shén bǐ， zhōng jiàn jiàng wáng zǒu zhuànchē。
　　 guǎn lè yòu cái yuán bù tiǎn， guān zhāng wú mìng yù hé rú。
　　 tā nián jǐn lǐ jīng cí miào， liáng fù yín chéng hèn yòu yú。

　　Monkeys and birds are still alert for your orders
　　And winds and clouds eager to shield your fortress.
　　...You were master of the brush, and a sagacious general,
　　But your Emperor, defeated, rode the prison-cart.
　　You were abler than even the greatest Zhou statesmen,
　　Yet less fortunate than the two Shu generals who were killed in action.
　　And, though at your birth-place a temple has been built to you,
　　You never finished singing your Song of the Holy Mountain

　　xiāng jiàn shí nán bié yì nán， dōng fēng wú lì bǎi huā cán。
　　 chūn cán dào sǐ sī fāng jìn， là jù chéng huī lèi shǐ gān。
　　 xiǎo jìng dàn chóu yún bìn gǎi， yè yín yìng jué yuè guāng hán。
　　 péng lāi cǐ qù wú duō lù， qīng niǎo yīn qín wéi tàn kàn。

　　Time was long before I met her, but is longer since we parted,
　　And the east wind has arisen and a hundred flowers are gone,
　　And the silk-worms of spring will weave until they die
　　And every night the candles will weep their wicks away.
　　Mornings in her mirror she sees her hair-cloud changing,
　　Yet she dares the chill of moonlight with her evening song.
　　...It is not so very far to her Enchanted Mountain
　　O blue-birds, be listening!-Bring me what she says!

　　chàng wò xīn chūn bái qiā yī， bái mén liáo luò yì duō wéi。
　　 hóng lóu gé yǔ xiāng wàng lěng， zhū bó piāo dēng dú zì guī。
　　 yuǎn lù yìng bēi chūn wǎn wǎn， cán xiāo yóu dé mèng yǐ xī。
　　 yù dāng jiān zhá hé yóu dá， wàn lǐ yún luó yī yàn fēi。

　　I am lying in a white-lined coat while the spring approaches,
　　But am thinking only of the White Gate City where I cannot be.
　　...There are two red chambers fronting the cold, hidden by the rain,
　　And a lantern on a pearl screen swaying my lone heart homeward.
　　...The long road ahead will be full of new hardship,
　　With, late in the nights, brief intervals of dream.
　　Oh, to send you this message, this pair of jade earrings! –
　　I watch a lonely wildgoose in three thousand miles of cloud.

　　fèng wěi xiāng luó bó jǐ zhòng， bì wén yuán dǐng yè shēn féng。
　　 shàn cái yuè bó xiū nán yǎn， chē zǒu léi shēng yǔ wèi tōng。
　　 céng shì jì liáo jīn jìn 'àn， duàn wú xiāo xī shí liú hóng。
　　 bān zhuī zhǐ xì chuí yáng 'àn， hé chù xī nán rèn hǎo fēng。

　　A faint phoenix-tail gauze, fragrant and doubled,
　　Lines your green canopy, closed for the night....
　　Will your shy face peer round a moon-shaped fan,
　　And your voice be heard hushing the rattle of my carriage?
　　It is quiet and quiet where your gold lamp dies,
　　How far can a pomegranate-blossom whisper?
　　...I will tether my horse to a river willow
　　And wait for the will of the southwest wind.

　　zhòng wéi shēn xià mò chóu táng， wò hòu qīng xiāo xì xì cháng。
　　 shén nǚ shēng yá yuán shì mèng， xiǎo gū jū chù běn wú láng。
　　 fēng bō bù xìn líng zhī ruò， yuè lù shuí jiào guì yè xiāng。
　　 zhí dào xiāng sī liǎo wú yì， wèi fáng chóu chàng shì qīng kuáng。

　　There are many curtains in your care-free house,
　　Where rapture lasts the whole night long.
　　...What are the lives of angels but dreams
　　If they take no lovers into their rooms?
　　...Storms are ravishing the nut-horns,
　　Moon- dew sweetening cinnamon-leaves
　　I know well enough naught can come of this union,
　　Yet how it serves to ease my heart!

　　xiàng wǎn yì bù shì， qū chē dēng gǔ yuán。
　　 xī yáng wú xiàn hǎo， zhǐ shì jìn huáng hūn。

　　With twilight shadows in my heart
　　I have driven up among the Leyou Tombs
　　To see the sun, for all his glory,
　　Buried by the coming night.

　　sōng yún qín shù jiǔ lí jū， shuāng lǐ tiáo tiáo yī zhǐ shū。
　　 xiū wèn liáng yuán jiù bīn kè， mào líng qiū yǔ bìng xiāng rú。

　　I am far from the clouds of Sung Mountain, a long way from trees in Qin;
　　And I send to you a message carried by two carp:
　　– Absent this autumn from the Prince's garden,
　　There's a poet at Maoling sick in the rain.

　　wèiyòu yún píng wú xiàn jiāo， fèng chéng hán jìn pà chūn xiāo。
　　 wú duān jià dé jīn guī xù， gū fù xiāng qīn shì zǎo cháo。

　　There is only one Carved-Cloud, exquisite always-
　　Yet she dreads the spring, blowing cold in the palace,
　　When her husband, a Knight of the Golden Tortoise,
　　Will leave her sweet bed, to be early at court.

　　chéng xīng nán yóu bù jiè yán， jiǔchóng shuí shěng jiàn shū hán。
　　 chūn fēng jǔ guó cái gōng jǐn， bàn zuò zhàng ní bàn zuò fān。

　　When gaily the Emperor toured the south
　　Contrary to every warning,
　　His whole empire cut brocades,
　　Half for wheel-guards, half for sails.

　　yáo chí 'ā mǔ qǐ chuāng kāi， huáng zhú gē shēng dòng dì 'āi。
　　 bā jùn rì xíng sān wàn lǐ， mù wáng hé shì bù zhòng lái。

　　The Mother of Heaven, in her window by the Jade Pool,
　　Hears The Yellow Bamboo Song shaking the whole earth.
　　Where is Emperor Mu, with his eight horses running
　　Ten thousand miles a day? Why has he never come back?

　　yún mǔ píng fēng zhú yǐng shēn， cháng hé jiàn luò xiǎo xīng chén。
　　 cháng 'é yìng huǐ tōu líng yào， bì hǎi qīng tiān yè yè xīn。

　　Now that a candle-shadow stands on the screen of carven marble
　　And the River of Heaven slants and the morning stars are low,
　　Are you sorry for having stolen the potion that has set you
　　Over purple seas and blue skies, to brood through the long nights?