311
red strings

red strings play a song for parting
splendid lights grow dim

mere things are senseless
but the hearts of men?

the journey’s unending
it’s the breath gives out

in autumn
from the phoenix tree
old leaves fall

wild geese fly
with the winter dew
far travels always bring regret

at night hungry birds all gather
the early lights so dim

in day’s last glow
plash of horses

a wild goose brings my letter home

mountains and rivers stand in my way
or is it that I dream them so?

312
chanting for the willows at a scholar’s home

jade stands from the trees
makes fragrant their lean

in the blossoming dark
of dusk’s final sigh
I fear the bright new moon’s sharp hook

branches like coral, sky a vast deep
we drink to the lees
munch pine nuts like squirrels
till those were the last

peckish, sobering
still we know
fresh flowers won’t die

dawn never comes
day doesn’t end
with frost the purest winds all blow






313
swaying willows

what frightens them
this drunken crew?
night and day
they sway and stumble

girls would come here
if these oafs would behave
how the still waters
would shine with jade tresses

then we’d all have
a drink or two






314
libation on a summer night
or
thanks for the grog, sport

into my chipped jade
you’ve poured
a cooling draught

this dram restoreth
hearing, sight
it tunes the mind to poetry

sip of the moon next
cools the bones
then you forget to worry

ten thousand things
– no longer there

here, come and sit on my lotus
together soon
we’ll take off for the clouds

just let me top you up first






315
singing with roses

on the god’s loom
a phoenix is woven
seventy two rows it takes

colour of sky has fallen to earth
everything sways in immortal breath

like girls in the palace perfumed, bejewelled
like peaches – this weave of the day

fragrance of roses all round the Buddha
I’m worried the breeze will wash them away







316
a feeble farewell

a beautiful woman threw out her zither
not because she couldn’t play

when I hear you sing I understand
how hard it is to find an ear attuned

how unaccomplished my listening is
yet really I’ve tried

fleabane won’t root once the wind lifts it
water runs into waves

travellers yearn for the home they’re deprived
a tired horse wishes its saddle away

one hopes for sincerity, speech from the heart
one tries to write feelings down

but everything vanishes with a farewell
the brimming cup empties, leaves nothing to say








317
a farewell in summer

a blazing sun to fire the way
a rich man won’t escape this heat

only the hermit
by cleft of stone
catches a cloud slung breeze

dust of the track
is nothing to him

no further than his fence he goes
to pick for your collar
this one fragrant flower
to mouth a fare thee well






318
poem of farewell for Uncle Number 15

you were after
a description of parting
of how it feels to the heart

let me see into the deep pool
of moment – where to and fro
the soul gathers time

parting is like wishing the river back
but not simply as it was
no mere reversal of flow

no, it’s like wishing that water
back high at its source
in a still pool clear
at a craggy height

only the virtuous haunt such a place
even their footsteps are seldom seen

and higher still, there’s something before:
jade vapours, in the mist lost dreams

those clouds which gather round the mountains
so strangely shaped and changing

each knows its appointed day
and each will soon be back







319
crossing the river only to part

1
the River Luo goes west
rocks in shallows shine

a clear wind takes the carriage off
its dust will not come back

parting in Spring
too early in the frost

day bleak
makes easy sentiment

the hall of a hundred nights’ banqueting
more empty when its guests are gone
than any barn or ruined temple

the years pass arrow like
say what you will
no, I won’t speak either
we both know this is final

worries like raw silk pour from the loom
I sigh for those here you’ll never meet


2
the gentleman goes back to Changan
the wild geese miss their way

yes, I have a reputation in words
weaving them this way and that

shameful these hands though
beside those of famers
their qi in tune with the land

officials are well fed with ink
even especially when peasants hunger

having no post though, be assured
I’m working on vacuity
I know it’s working on me

please take these poor words
they’re nothing to carry
sadly the best I could say