Part 4 (1/2)

The crane from the sh.o.r.e standing at the top of the steps; The moon on the pool seen at the open door; Where these are, I made my lodging-place And for two nights could not turn away.

I am glad I chanced on a place so lonely and still With no companion to drag me early home.

Now that I have tasted the joy of being alone I will never again come with a friend at my side.

[17] PLANTING BAMBOOS

[_A.D. 806_]

Unrewarded, my will to serve the State; At my closed door autumn gra.s.ses grow.

What could I do to ease a rustic heart?

I planted bamboos, more than a hundred shoots.

When I see their beauty, as they grow by the stream-side, I feel again as though I lived in the hills, And many a time on public holidays Round their railing I walk till night comes.

Do not say that their roots are still weak, Do not say that their shade is still small; Already I feel that both in garden and house Day by day a fresher air moves.

But most I love, lying near the window-side, To hear in their branches the sound of the autumn-wind.

[18] TO LI CHIEN

[_Part of a Poem_]

[_A.D. 807_]

Worldly matters again draw my steps; Worldly things again seduce my heart.

Whenever for long I part from Li Chien Gradually my thoughts grow narrow and covetous.

I remember how once I used to visit you; I stopped my horse and tapped at the garden-gate.

Often when I came you were still lying in bed; Your little children were sent to let me in.

And you, laughing, ran to the front-door With coat-tails flying and cap all awry.

On the swept terrace, green patterns of moss; On the dusted bench, clean shadows of leaves.

To gaze at the hills we sat in the eastern lodge; To wait for the moon we walked to the southern moor.

At your quiet gate only birds spoke; In your distant street few drums were heard.

Opposite each other all day we talked, And never once spoke of profit or fame.

Since we parted hands, how long has pa.s.sed?

Thrice and again the full moon has shone.

For when we parted the last flowers were falling, And to-day I hear new cicadas sing.

The scented year suddenly draws to its close, Yet the sorrow of parting is still unsubdued.

[19] AT THE END OF SPRING

_To Yuan Chen._[1] [_A.D. 810_]

The flower of the pear-tree gathers and turns to fruit; The swallows' eggs have hatched into young birds.

When the Seasons' changes thus confront the mind What comfort can the Doctrine of Tao give?