dú lián yōu cǎo jiàn biān shēng， shàng yòu huáng lí shēn shù míng。
　　 chūn cháo dài yǔ wǎn lái jí， yě dù wú rén zhōu zì héng。

　　Where tender grasses rim the stream
　　And deep boughs trill with mango-birds,
　　On the spring flood of last night's rain
　　The ferry-boat moves as though someone were poling.

　　cháo cí bái dì cǎi yún jiān， qiān lǐ jiāng líng yī rì hái。
　　 liǎng 'àn yuán shēng tí bù zhù， qīng zhōu yǐ guò wàn chóngshān。

　　From the walls of Baidi high in the coloured dawn
　　To Jiangling by night-fall is three hundred miles,
　　Yet monkeys are still calling on both banks behind me
　　To my boat these ten thousand mountains away.

　　gù yuán dōng wàng lù màn màn， shuāng xiù lóng zhōng lèi bù gān。
　　 mǎ shàng xiāng féng wú zhǐ bǐ， píng jūn chuán yǔ bào píng 'ān。

　　It's a long way home, a long way east.
　　I am old and my sleeve is wet with tears.
　　We meet on horseback. I have no means of writing.
　　Tell them three words: "He is safe."

　　chūn chéng wú chù bù fēi huā， hán shí dōng fēng yù liǔ xié。
　　 rì mù hàn gōng chuán là zhú， qīng yān sǎnrù wǔ hòu jiā。

　　Petals of spring fly all through the city
　　From the wind in the willows of the Imperial River.
　　And at dusk, from the palace, candles are given out
　　To light first the mansions of the Five Great Lords.

　　gēngshēn yuè sè bàn rén jiā， běi dǒu lán gān nán dǒu xié。
　　 jīn yè piān zhī chūn qì nuǎn， chóng shēng xīn tòu lǜ chuāng shā。

　　When the moon has coloured half the house,
　　With the North Star at its height and the South Star setting,
　　I can fed the first motions of the warm air of spring
　　In the singing of an insect at my green-silk window.

　　mù cóng bì shān xià， shān yuè suí rén guī。
　　 què gù suǒ lái jìng， cāng cāng héng cuì wēi。
　　 xiāng xié jí tián jiā， tóng zhì kāi jīng fēi。
　　 lǜ zhú rù yōu jìng， qīng luó fú xíng yī。
　　 huān yán dé suǒ qì， měi jiǔ liáo gòng huī。
　　 cháng gē yín sōng fēng， qū jìn hé xīng xī。
　　 wǒ zuì jūn fù lè， táo rán gòng wàng jī。

　　Down the blue mountain in the evening,
　　Moonlight was my homeward escort.
　　Looking back, I saw my path
　　Lie in levels of deep shadow....
　　I was passing the farm-house of a friend,
　　When his children called from a gate of thorn
　　And led me twining through jade bamboos
　　Where green vines caught and held my clothes.
　　And I was glad of a chance to rest
　　And glad of a chance to drink with my friend....
　　We sang to the tune of the wind in the pines;
　　And we finished our songs as the stars went down,
　　When, I being drunk and my friend more than happy,
　　Between us we forgot the world.

　　huā jiān yī hú jiǔ， dú zhuó wú xiāng qīn。
　　 jǔ bēi yāo míng yuè， duì yǐng chéng sān rén。
　　 yuè jì bù jiě yǐn， yǐng tú suí wǒ shēn。
　　 zàn bàn yuè jiāng yǐng， xíng lè xū jí chūn。
　　 wǒ gē yuè pái huái， wǒ wǔ yǐng líng luàn。
　　 xǐng shí tóng jiāo huān， zuì hòu gè fēn sàn。
　　 yǒng jié wú qíng yóu， xiāng qī miǎo yún hàn。

　　Among flowers with a pot of liquor;
　　I pour alone but with no friend at hand;
　　So I lift the cup to invite the shining moon;
　　Along with my shadow, a fellowship of three.
　　
　　The moon understands not the art of drinking;
　　The shadow gingerly follows my movements;
　　Still I make the moon and the shadow my company;
　　To enjoy the springtime before too late.
　　
　　The moon lingers while I am singing;
　　The shadow scatters while I am dancing;
　　We share the cheers of delight when sober;
　　We separate our ways after getting drunk;
　　Forever will we keep this unfettered friendship;
　　Til we meet again far in the Milky Way.
　　
　　
　　2) DRINKING ALONE WITH THE MOON
　　
　　From a pot of wine among the flowers
　　I drank alone. There was no one with me --
　　Till, raising my cup, I asked the bright moon
　　To bring me my shadow and make us three.
　　Alas, the moon was unable to drink
　　And my shadow tagged me vacantly;
　　But still for a while I had these friends
　　To cheer me through the end of spring....
　　I sang. The moon encouraged me.
　　I danced. My shadow tumbled after.
　　As long as I knew, we were boon companions.
　　And then I was drunk, and we lost one another.
　　...Shall goodwill ever be secure?
　　I watch the long road of the River of Stars.
　　
　　
　　3) Boire seul sous la lune
　　Parmi les fleurs une coupe de vin,
　　Seul je bois, pas un ami.
　　Levant ma tasse, j’invite la lune claire,
　　En comptant mon ombre, nous voilà trois.
　　
　　La lune ne s’entend pas à boire,
　　Mon ombre suit mes mouvements.
　　Pour un instant la lune me prête mon ombre,
　　Notre joie passagère est pareille au printemps.
　　
　　Je chante, la lune vacille;
　　Je danse, mon ombre gesticule.
　　Le bon sens fait le bon convive;
　　Si la tête tourne, il est temps de se quitter.
　　Réunion qui trop dure est sans
　　Rendez-vous pris sur l’autre rive du Fleuve céleste.

　　gū hóng hǎi shàng lái， chí huáng bù gǎn gù。
　　 cè jiàn shuāng cuì niǎo， cháo zài sān zhū shù。
　　 jiáo jiáo zhēn mù diān， dé wú jīn wán jù？
　　 měi fú huàn rén zhǐ， gāo míng bī shén 'è。
　　 jīn wǒ yóu míng míng， yì zhě hé suǒ mù！

　　A lonely swan from the sea flies,
　　To alight on puddles it does not deign.
　　Nesting in the poplar of pearls
　　It spies and questions green birds twain:
　　"Don't you fear the threat of slings,
　　Perched on top of branches so high?
　　Nice clothes invite pointing fingers,
　　High climbers god's good will defy.
　　Bird-hunters will crave me in vain,
　　For I roam the limitless sky."

　　yōu rén guī dú wò， zhì lǜ xǐ gū qīng。
　　 chí cǐ xiè gāo niǎo， yīn zhī chuán yuǎn qíng。
　　 rì xī huái kōng yì， rén shuí gǎn zhì jīng。
　　 fēi chén lǐ zì gé， hé suǒ wèi wú chéng。

　　The hermit in his lone abode
　　Nurses his thoughts cleansed of care,
　　Them he projects to the wild goose
　　For it to his distant Sovereign to bear.
　　Who will be moved by the sincerity
　　Of my vain day-and-night prayer?
　　What comfort is for my loyalty
　　When fliers and sinkers can compare?

　　jiāng nán yòu dān jú， jīng dōng yóu lùlín。
　　 qǐ yī dì qì nuǎn， zì yòu suì hán xīn。
　　 kě yǐ jiàn jiā kè， nài hé zǔ zhòng shēn！
　　 yùn mìng wéi suǒ yù， xún huán bù kě xún。
　　 tú yán shù táo lǐ， cǐ mù qǐ wú yīn？

　　Here, south of the Yangzi, grows a red orangetree.
　　All winter long its leaves are green,
　　Not because of a warmer soil,
　　But because its' nature is used to the cold.
　　Though it might serve your honourable guests,
　　You leave it here, far below mountain and river.
　　Circumstance governs destiny.
　　Cause and effect are an infinite cycle.
　　You plant your peach-trees and your plums,
　　You forget the shade from this other tree.

　　yàn cǎo rú bì sī， qín sāng dī lǜ zhī。
　　 dāng jūn huái guī rì， shì qiè duàn cháng shí。
　　 chūn fēng bù xiāng shí， hé shì rù luó wéi？

　　Your grasses up north are as blue as jade,
　　Our mulberries here curve green-threaded branches;
　　And at last you think of returning home,
　　Now when my heart is almost broken....
　　O breeze of the spring, since I dare not know you,
　　Why part the silk curtains by my bed?

　　rén shēng bù xiāng jiàn， dòng rú cānyù shāng。
　　 jīn xī fù hé xī， gòng cǐ dēng zhú guāng。
　　 shàozhuàng néng jǐ shí， bìnfà gè yǐ cāng。
　　 fǎng jiù bàn wéi guǐ， jīng hū rè zhōng cháng。
　　 yān zhī 'èr shízǎi， zhòng shàng jūn zǐ táng。
　　 xī bié jūn wèi hūn， ér nǚ hū chéngháng。
　　 yí rán jìng fù zhí， wèn wǒ lái hé fāng。
　　 wèn dá nǎi wèi yǐ， qū 'ér luó jiǔ jiāng。
　　 yè yǔ jiǎn chūn jiǔ， xīn chuī jiān huáng liáng。
　　 zhù chēng huì miàn nán， yī jǔ lěi shí shāng。
　　 shí shāng yì bù zuì， gǎn zǐ gù yì cháng。
　　 míng rì gé shān yuè， shì shì liǎng máng máng。

　　It is almost as hard for friends to meet
　　As for the morning and evening stars.
　　Tonight then is a rare event,
　　Joining, in the candlelight,
　　Two men who were young not long ago
　　But now are turning grey at the temples.
　　...To find that half our friends are dead
　　Shocks us, burns our hearts with grief.
　　We little guessed it would be twenty years
　　Before I could visit you again.
　　When I went away, you were still unmarried;
　　But now these boys and girls in a row
　　Are very kind to their father's old friend.
　　They ask me where I have been on my journey;
　　And then, when we have talked awhile,
　　They bring and show me wines and dishes,
　　Spring chives cut in the night-rain
　　And brown rice cooked freshly a special way.
　　...My host proclaims it a festival,
　　He urges me to drink ten cups --
　　But what ten cups could make me as drunk
　　As I always am with your love in my heart?
　　...Tomorrow the mountains will separate us;
　　After tomorrow-who can say?

　　jué dài yòu jiā rén， yōu jū zài kōng gǔ。
　　 zì yún liáng jiā zǐ， líng luò yǐ cǎo mù。
　　 guān zhōng xī sāngluàn， xiōng dì zāo shā lù。
　　 guān gāo hé zú lùn， bù dé shōu gǔ ròu。
　　 shì qíng 'è shuāi xiē， wàn shì suí zhuǎn zhú。
　　 fū xù qīng bó 'ér， xīn rén měi rú yù。
　　 hé hūn shàng zhī shí， yuān yāng bù dú sù。
　　 dàn jiàn xīn rén xiào， nà wén jiù rén kū。
　　 zài shān quán shuǐ qīng， chū shān quán shuǐ zhuó。
　　 shì bì mài zhū huí， qiān luó bǔ máo wū。
　　 zhāi huā bù chā fā， cǎi bǎi dòng yíng jū。
　　 tiān hán cuì xiù bó， rì mù yǐ xiū zhú。

　　Who is lovelier than she?
　　Yet she lives alone in an empty valley.
　　She tells me she came from a good family
　　Which is humbled now into the dust.
　　...When trouble arose in the Kuan district,
　　Her brothers and close kin were killed.
　　What use were their high offices,
　　Not even shielding their own lives? --
　　The world has but scorn for adversity;
　　Hope goes out, like the light of a candle.
　　Her husband, with a vagrant heart,
　　Seeks a new face like a new piece of jade;
　　And when morning-glories furl at night
　　And mandarin-ducks lie side by side,
　　All he can see is the smile of the new love,
　　While the old love weeps unheard.
　　The brook was pure in its mountain source,
　　But away from the mountain its waters darken.
　　...Waiting for her maid to come from selling pearls
　　For straw to cover the roof again,
　　She picks a few flowers, no longer for her hair,
　　And lets pine-needles fall through her fingers,
　　And, forgetting her thin silk sleeve and the cold,
　　She leans in the sunset by a tall bamboo.

　　sǐ bié yǐ tūn shēng， shēng bié cháng cè cè。
　　 jiāng nán zhàng lì dì， zhú kè wú xiāo xī。
　　 gù rén rù wǒ mèng， míng wǒ cháng xiāng yì。
　　 kǒng fēi píng shēng hún， lù yuǎn bù kě cè。
　　 hún lái fēng lín qīng， hún fǎn guān sài hēi。
　　 jūn jīn zài luó wǎng， hé yǐ yòu yǔ yì。
　　 luò yuè mǎn wū liáng， yóu yí zhào yán sè。
　　 shuǐ shēn bō làng kuò， wú shǐ jiāo lóng dé！

　　There are sobs when death is the cause of parting;
　　But life has its partings again and again.
　　...From the poisonous damps of the southern river
　　You had sent me not one sign from your exile --
　　Till you came to me last night in a dream,
　　Because I am always thinking of you.
　　I wondered if it were really you,
　　Venturing so long a journey.
　　You came to me through the green of a forest,
　　You disappeared by a shadowy fortress....
　　Yet out of the midmost mesh of your snare,
　　How could you lift your wings and use them?
　　...I woke, and the low moon's glimmer on a rafter
　　Seemed to be your face, still floating in the air.
　　...There were waters to cross, they were wild and tossing;
　　If you fell, there were dragons and rivermonsters.

　　fú yún zhōng rì xíng， yóu zǐ jiǔ bù zhì。
　　 sān yè pín mèng jūn， qíng qīn jiàn jūn yì。
　　 gào guī cháng jú cù， kǔ dào lái bù yì。
　　 jiāng hú duō fēng bō， zhōu jí kǒng shī zhuì。
　　 chū mén sāo bái shǒu， ruò fù píng shēng zhì。
　　 guān gài mǎn jīng huá， sī rén dú qiáo cuì。
　　 shú yún wǎng huī huī， jiāng lǎo shēn fǎn lěi。
　　 qiān qiū wàn suì míng， jì mò shēn hòu shì。

　　This cloud, that has drifted all day through the sky,
　　May, like a wanderer, never come back....
　　Three nights now I have dreamed of you --
　　As tender, intimate and real as though I were awake.
　　And then, abruptly rising to go,
　　You told me the perils of adventure
　　By river and lake-the storms, the wrecks,
　　The fears that are borne on a little boat;
　　And, here in my doorway, you rubbed your white head
　　As if there were something puzzling you.
　　...Our capital teems with officious people,
　　While you are alone and helpless and poor.
　　Who says that the heavenly net never fails?
　　It has brought you ill fortune, old as you are.
　　...A thousand years' fame, ten thousand years' fame-
　　What good, when you are dead and gone.

　　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.

　　běi shān bái yún lǐ， yǐn zhě zì yí yuè。
　　 xiāng wàng shì dēng gāo， xīn suí yàn fēi miè。
　　 chóu yīn bó mù qǐ， xīng shì qīng qiū fā。
　　 shí jiàn guī cūn rén， shā xíng dù tóu xiē。
　　 tiān biān shù ruò jì， jiāng pàn zhōu rú yuè。
　　 hé dāng zài jiǔ lái， gòng zuì chóngyáng jié。

　　On a northern peak among white clouds
　　You have found your hermitage of peace;
　　And now, as I climb this mountain to see you,
　　High with the wildgeese flies my heart.
　　The quiet dusk might seem a little sad
　　If this autumn weather were not so brisk and clear;
　　I look down at the river bank, with homeward-bound villagers
　　Resting on the sand till the ferry returns;
　　There are trees at the horizon like a row of grasses
　　And against the river's rim an island like the moon
　　I hope that you will come and meet me, bringing a basket of wine --
　　And we'll celebrate together the Mountain Holiday.

　　xī yáng dù xī lǐng， qún hè shū yǐ míng。
　　 sōng yuè shēng yè liáng， fēng quán mǎn qīng tīng。
　　 qiáo rén guī yù jìn， yān niǎo qī chū dìng。
　　 zhī zǐ qī sù lái， gū qín hòu luó jìng。

　　Now that the sun has set beyond the western range,
　　Valley after valley is shadowy and dim....
　　And now through pine-trees come the moon and the chill of evening,
　　And my ears feel pure with the sound of wind and water
　　Nearly all the woodsmen have reached home,
　　Birds have settled on their perches in the quiet mist....
　　And still -- because you promised -- I am waiting for you, waiting,
　　Playing lute under a wayside vine.

　　gāo wò nán zhāi shí， kāi wéi yuè chū tù。
　　 qīng huī dàn shuǐ mù， yǎn yàng zài chuāng hù。
　　 rěn rǎn jǐ yíng xū， chéng chéng biàn jīn gǔ。
　　 měi rén qīng jiāng pàn， shì yè yuè yín kǔ。
　　 qiān lǐ gòng rú hé， wēi fēng chuī lán dù。

　　Lying on a high seat in the south study,
　　We have lifted the curtain-and we see the rising moon
　　Brighten with pure light the water and the grove
　　And flow like a wave on our window and our door.
　　It will move through the cycle, full moon and then crescent again,
　　Calmly, beyond our wisdom, altering new to old.
　　...Our chosen one, our friend, is now by a limpid river --
　　Singing, perhaps, a plaintive eastern song.
　　He is far, far away from us, three hundred miles away.
　　And yet a breath of orchids comes along the wind.

　　jué dǐng yī máo cí， zhí shàng sān shí lǐ。
　　 kòu guān wú tóng pú， kuī shì wéi 'àn jǐ。
　　 ruò fēi jīn chái chē， yīngshì diào qiū shuǐ。
　　 chàchí bù xiāng jiàn， mǐn miǎn kōng yǎng zhǐ。
　　 cǎo sè xīn yǔ zhōng， sōng shēng wǎn chuāng lǐ。
　　 jí cí qì yōu jué， zì zú dàng xīn 'ěr。
　　 suī wú bīn zhù yì， pō dé qīng jìng lǐ。
　　 xīng jìn fāng xià shān， hé bì dài zhī zǐ。

　　To your hermitage here on the top of the mountain
　　I have climbed, without stopping, these ten miles.
　　I have knocked at your door, and no one answered;
　　I have peeped into your room, at your seat beside the table.
　　Perhaps you are out riding in your canopied chair,
　　Or fishing, more likely, in some autumn pool.
　　Sorry though I am to be missing you,
　　You have become my meditation --
　　The beauty of your grasses, fresh with rain,
　　And close beside your window the music of your pines.
　　I take into my being all that I see and hear,
　　Soothing my senses, quieting my heart;
　　And though there be neither host nor guest,
　　Have I not reasoned a visit complete?
　　...After enough, I have gone down the mountain.
　　Why should I wait for you any longer?