THERE BLUE FINGERS OF THE MOON STILL PLAY ON MY OLD LUTE. THERE WIND SCATTERS CLOUDS AND COMES DOWN TO FLUTTER MY ROBE.
YOU ASK ME WHAT IS THE BEST HAPPINESS OF ALL? IN THE FOREST IT IS SWEET TO HEAR A GIRL SINGING ON THE PATH, AFTER SHE HAS STOPPED TO ASK HER WAY, AND THANKED YOU WITH A SMILE. [Wang-Wei]
THE BLUE ROBE
BRING ME NO MORE FLOWERS. BRING ME ONLY CYPRESS BOUGHS TO SHROUD MY FACE.
AFTER SUNSET IN THE MOUNTAINS, I WILL PUT ON MY BLUE ROBE WITH LONG SLEEVES, AND GO OUT TO SLEEP AMONG THE BAMBOOS THAT SHE LOVED. [Tu Fu]
THE ASHES OF MY HOUSE
WHEN I RETURNED TO THE HOUSE WHERE I HAD BEEN A HAPPY CHILD ... ONLY A PILE OF ASHES WHERE IT HAD STOOD.
I WEPT LONG, AND TO FORGET MY WEEPING, I SAILED OUT ON THE VAST CALM SEA. ON THESE WATERS, IN A STAR-SAPPHIRE NIGHT, I PLAYED MY FLUTE TO THE SUMMER MOON ... MY GRIEF MY MELODY. BUT THE MOON, A WOMAN’S FACE, SOON VEILED ITSELF WITH CLOUD.
I SAILED BACK TO SHORE, I WALKED AWAY FROM THE WATERS TO THE FRIENDLY FOREST.... BUT THERE THE TREES TOO TURNED AWAY FROM ME. I KNEW THEN HAPPINESS WAS BURNED FOREVER UNDER A PILE OF ASHES.
RUNNING BACK TO THE SEA, I DECIDED TO DROWN MYSELF. BUT A WHITE BOAT SAILED ALONG THE SHORE. A YOUNG GIRL WAS SAILING IT.