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DOGWOOD BAY

 

Wind-borne dogwood scent against pepper and cinnamon,

Leaves spread quietly from the sandalwood tree.

Clouds mask the sun even if it returns bright.

In the deep forest, I still feel the chill.

 

Cornels on the same tree are red and green.

Like flowers which bloom again and again

The mountain wishes to keep its guest,

Holding him within like a hibiscus cup.

 

RILL OF THE HOUSE OF LUANS

 

The river's voice whispers to the distant shore

Along a path to South Ferry

Ducks floating, sea gulls flying across.

Time and again they drift close to men.

 

A gust suddenly rises in the autumn rain.

The shallow stream breaks against the rocks.

Waves ripple, dashing into each other.

A white heron shrieks then dives.

 

GOLD-DUST SPRING

 

Drifting and stopping, it's too deep to flow.

Gold and jade are left to gather—

To meet dawn with white silken flowers,

Going alone to fetch morning water.

 

To drink daily from Gold-Dust spring.

Few act as many years remain.

The iridescent phoenix hovers near the pied dragon,

Winging at dawn to the Jade Emperor.

 

WHITE ROCK RAPIDS

 

Standing on the rocks, gazing at the water below,

Watching the play of ripples is endless pleasure.

At sunset, it's cold on the river.

Clouds drift by, ordinary, without color.

 

White Rock Rapids are clear but shallow.

Green rushes bunch rustling nearby.

Houses stretch east and west of the water.

Women wash gauze under a bright moon.

 

NORTH HILLOCK

 

On North Hillock  of South Mountain

A thatched cottage overlooks Lake Yi.

Everyone leaves to gather firewood.

A flat boat drifts from the rushes.

 

At North Hillock, north of the lake,

Brilliant trees are reflected; a red railing

Winds along the south river's edge

Bright like fire against the green grove.

 

BAMBOO GROVE

 

I come humbly to the bamboo grove

Each day hoping to embrace the Way.

Going and coming, there are only mountain birds.

In the profound dark, there is no one.

 

Alone I sit within the dark bamboo

Strumming my lute, whistling along

In the deep grove no one knows

The bright moon, how we shine together.

 

HSIN-YI VILLAGE

 

On a green knoll covered with spring grass,

The princely lord loiters alone.

Among the Hsin-yi flowers

The red hibiscus vibrate.

 

From the end of its branch, the hibiscus flowers.

From the mountain's depth, red stems push.

Along a mountain stream, a vacant cabin stands

Amid the hibiscus endless bloom and fall.

 

 

ASH TREE PATH

 

At the south gate of the palace is ash tree path,

A window facing Lake Yi.

Autumn comes to the mountains with heavy rain.

The fallen leaves remain unswept.

 

Slanted and straight ash trees shade the palace.

In the dark shadow, moss is all the more green.

At the right gate only, one must sweep

With dread for the mountain monk comes.

 

LAKESIDE PAVILION

 

From the window a rippling of waves,

The solitary moon drifts back and forth.

From the gorge shoot gibbons' cries.

The wind carries them to where I sit.

 

A light barge for the welcome guests

Comes from far up the lake.

Before the windows, they toast wine.

Everywhere hibiscus begin to open.

 

SOUTH HILLOCK

 

A lone boat moors leeward.

At South Hillock, lake waters lap the bank.

The sun sets behind Mount Yen Tzu.

Clear ripples against the immense watery main.

 

A light boat sails to South Hillock.

From North Hillock there's a panic of water.

At shore, a man looks towards home

So distant, so far, he can hardly remember.

 

LAKE YI

 

Such immense emptiness, the lake's without limit.

Dazzling blue water and sky alike.

Anchor the boat with one long whistle.

From every direction, good winds blow.

 

Flute music sounds from beyond the shore.

Sunset accompanies my honored guest.

On the lake, I turn my head

To green mountains, white curling clouds.

 

WILLOW WAVES

 

The pond shimmers with one color.

Its wind-blown surface rustles like silk.

A good place to weave shadows.

Who needs to thank T'ao Ch'ien?

 

From rows of silk trees after silk trees

Shadows strike the clear waves

Randomly, not like the palace moat.

Spring winds bring sorrow, distress, farewell.

 

LACQUER-TREE GARDEN

 

Love of leisure is as natural as morning sun.

I accept the fruits born of my past.

Today, I amble through the lacquer-tree garden

And return to the joy Chuang Tzu felt.

 

The ancient sage was no proud official.

He voided the warp and weave of the world

And held only a trifling position, casually regarded,

Like an old woman sauntering among twigs of trees.

 

PEPPER PLANT GARDEN

 

Red thorns might snag robes

But the lovely scent beckons.

Such a wonderful blend of spices

Invites the Prince to gather a few.

 

There's cinnamon wine for the Son of Heaven,

Sweet pollice for the elegant man.

A pepper broth served at the precious mat

As if to invite the Lord of Clouds.