Du Fu
On the Border
We recruits have our commanders to send us off,
but, bound for distant duty, we’re people too!
From here we go out to face life or death-
no cause for the officers to scowl at us so!
Along the route we come on someone we know,
give him a letter to hand to close kin.
Sad as it is, we and they are parted now,
no longer to share the same troubles and pain.
Moonlight Night
From her room in Fu-chou tonight
all alone she watches the moon.
Far away, I grieve that her children
can’t understand why she thinks of Ch’ang-an.
Fragrant mist in her cloud hair damp,
clear lucence on her jade arms cold-
when will we lean by chamber curtains
and let it light the two of us, our tear stains dried?
Restless Night
The cool of bamboo invades my room;
moonlight from the fields fills the corner of the court;
dew gathers till it falls in drops;
a scattering of stars, now there, now gone.
A firefly threading the darkness makes her own light;
birds at rest on the water call to each other;
all these within the shadow of the sword-
Powerless I grieve as the clear night passes.
A Traveler at Night Writes His Thoughts
Delicate grasses, faint wind on the bank;
stark mast, a lone night boat:
stars hang down, over broad fields sweeping;
the moon boils up, on the great river flowing.
Fame- how can my writings win me that?
Office- age and sickness have brought it to an end.
Fluttering, fluttering- where is my likeness?
Sky and earth and one sandy gull.
On the River
On the river, every day these heavy rains-
bleak, bleak autumn in Ching-ch’u!
High winds strip the leaves from the trees;
through the long night I hug my fur robe.
I recall my official record, keep looking in the mirror,
recall my comings and goings, leaning alone in an upper room.
In these perilous times I long to serve my sovereign-
old and feeble as I am, I can’t stop thinking of it!
Xue Tao
Gazing at Spring
(four poems)
I
When flowers bloom, no one enjoys with me.
When flowers fall, no one grieves with me.
When does lovesickness stir me more?
When flowers bloom or flowers fall.
II
I gather herbs and tie a knot of love,
And wish to send to my dear beloved.
When the spring sadness is near to its ending,
Why are the spring birds back to their sobbing?
III
The flowers in the wind grow daily old,
But my wedding day hasn’t been told!
If I can’t tie with my beloved man,
My knot of love will be all in vain!
IV
How can I bear the blooming branches!
They appear to me our burden affection.
Before the morn mirror shed my tears!
Does the spring gust know my devotion?
Autumn Spring
A strain of mist arouses from a pouring spring;
And quiet sounds flow like a fiddle’s singing.
It always comes to my pillow and arouses my sadness,
And it makes the sad
one at
Sudden westwind tells the coming pairs of wild geese;
It chills bodies and souls by autumn cool and grieves.
If I don’t believe the story of fishes carrying letters;
Why should I wait
night after night by the riverside?
Lu Xun
I. After running more than sixty steps Ah Q slowed down, and began to feel most upset, because Mr. Foreigner would not allow him to be a revolutionary, there was no other way open to him. All his ambition, aims, hope and future had been blasted at one stroke. The fact that people might spread the news and make him a laughing stock for the likes of Young D and Whiskers Wang was only a secondary consideration (p. 120).
II. A beating had to be connected with some important personage like Mr. Zhao before the villagers thought it was worth talking about. But once they thought it was worth talking about, since the beater was famous, the one beaten enjoyed some of his reflected fame. As for the fault being Ah Q’s, that was naturally taken for granted, the reason being that Mr. Zaho could not possibly be wrong (p. 29).
Lao She
I. But when faced with the choice between living and dying, they’d had to grab the shafts of a rickshaw. They were fired clerks or dismissed policemen, small-time merchants who had lost their capital, or workmen who had lost their jobs. When the time came when they had nothing left to sell or pawn, they gritted their teeth, held back their tears, and set out on this death-bound road. Their best years are already gone and now the poor food they eat becomes the blood and sweat that drips on the pavement. They have no strength, no experience, and no friends. Even among their coworkers they are alone (p. 2).
II. The gateway tunnel was jammed with every kind of cart and all sorts of people. Everyone wanted to get through it quickly but no one dared hurry. The cracking of whips, shouts, curses, honking of horns, ringing of bells, and laughter were blended into a continuous roaring by the megaphone like tunnel, making a “weng weng.” Hsiang Tzu’s big feet cut forward and jumped backwards while his hands fended off people left and right. He pushed his was into the city like a great skinny fish which follows the waves and jumps for joy (p.32).