IN DARKENED ROOMS YOU CAN SEE GREEN GHOST FIRES ... FROM THE FLUTES OF THE FOREST YOU CAN HEAR A THOUSAND VOICES. THE YOUNG PALACE LADIES OF LONG AGO ARE IN THEIR YELLOW GRAVES ... THEN WHY ARE PAINTED SCROLLS STILL HANGING ON THE WALL? THE CHARIOTEERS AND THEIR GOLD CHARIOTS ARE CRUMBLED ... THEN WHY ARE STONE HORSES, CARVED IN OLDEN DAYS, STANDING YET?
SADNESS SITS ON THE GRASS. I SING THE STORY, BUT I AM HEAVY WITH SORROW ... AMONG ALL THESE PATHS THAT WE MAY WALK ALONG INTO THE DISTANCE, WHICH ONE WILL EVER CARRY US TO LIFE FOREVER? [Tu Fu]
WINE-FLASK AT SUNSET
SPRING FRAGRANCES, AND LEVEL SUN-SHAFTS, COME SIFTING THROUGH MY SHUTTERS. NOW COMES THE SUPPER-HOUR WHEN BOATMEN BOIL THEIR RICE ON THE RIVER. IN THE GARDEN SPARROWS ARE TWITTERING ... ON THE ROAD A CHARIOT-WHEEL IS GRATING.
NOW FOR THE WINE-FLASK. LET MY TROUBLES FLY AWAY ... JOINING THE INSECTS A-BUZZ IN THE LATE-SUN GARDEN. [Tu Fu]
WHEN THE SUN ROSE ...
WHEN SHE WENT OUT TO MEET HER LOVER UNDER THE BIG WILLOW TREE BY THE RIVER EDGE, SHE PUT ON TWO OF HER LOVELY ROBES TO PLEASE HIM.
WHEN THE SUN SANK BELOW THE HILLS, AND THE NIGHT WAS DARK, THE TWO LOVERS STILL LAY THERE, TALKING TENDERLY TOGETHER.
SUDDENLY SHE ROSE TO HER FEET, ROSY WITH SHAME. HER THIRD ROBE, THE DARKNESS UNDER THE WILLOW, HAD FALLEN OFF WITH DAWN.... [Li Chuang-chia]