375
Ten poems of mourning for the poor scholar official, Lu Yin

1
poets are a solitary stern outfit
starving to death they hug the mountain
to share the empty feeling

white clouds are masterless
it’s not unusual for them to float off

this man was sick for a long time
just a mat on the bed to cover his corpse

the funeral worker who’s come to attend
to young, too weak for the work
mice and rats gnaw the old books

you’ve gone to the home town of new ghosts
how sallow and poorly I look

I’m afraid that when I’m in the ground
no one will come after me

all the springs mourn for you
day and night – hear them murmur


2
insects colour the moon
with their concert

wind from Mang blows on Meng Jiao
I go to Snow Mountain to bury Lu Yin

all of these guests come condoling the dust

thorns grow north
bitter the tears

I pour my libation –
wine mingled with tears

I’m poorly, exhausted –
a fire won’t be fed

it’s the sound of water running
breaks the mourner’s heart


3
thorns and the winds howl
the wailing breaks up
but it returns

sorrow worries
weeping strings

I dream the world passing
through tears in my eyes


4
trees and grass
in Deng Feng deep
roads there are narrow

moss covers the world
where the sun won’t shine

the poor man died without a son
ants traverse the corpse

time long curled in a bed
there’s the sighing
tigers and leopards attend

no other visitors besides
his closest relatives were poems
they were his heart, they were his home

Han Yu wore off a part of the mountain
what he wrote there shines
ten thousand years


5
what is it a sage should bother about?

life is suffering
and death? whom to praise?

fame is a shelter
for the famous’ descendants

your name will moisten the mud

it’s a pity poems bloom and so soon

what’s withered is hard to give speech


Lu Yin mourning poems continued


6
a scholar in the dirty alley
a gentleman in the mountain

the fame that comes from starving to death
got famous that way or got famous after?
no one remembers now

weep for my worries
past, present confuse me

when you were alive we talked
now I run in my own circle


7
we had hair when we met
there was colour in us then
always competing with poems

under the bridges of the moon we trod
raised cups and never saw the shadows

we sobbed as well into such vessels
that was how our fame flowed

plum blossoms in a temple
fragrant flowers of the lake

green soup,
we skipped the greasy mutton

something pure was in words then
echoes of the past we lived up to

the desert came stealing after summer
and autumn and winter for that

now we stand on the shore
and scold the waves coming


8
sages of the past drank deep
in cups they could skip round their sorrow

wine won’t touch the sides of this grief
whitens the dark hair
tears out the grey
makes harsh the voice

vain the pronouncements of deep drinking sages
and vain the sad poetry mourning for them


9
which poets weep for you
as the wild beasts do?

humans can only feel where blood flows

the passion of the beasts
reaches high as heaven

rites are the knife
with which to cut bonds

at your funeral
just a few lonely grovellers

complained how hard it was
burying you


10
saints cry for sages
bones are transfigured
far into stars

the visible is also blank
the planets – shameless wanderers

for you I have written
the last of my soul
of which I am no judge

all that is written
lies ink upon ink
in the ill-lit night of heaven

376
the enthusiasms
or
two poets hitchhiking on the highway
(collaborative poem with Han Yu)

Meng:
my heart follows the sun and the moon – find it in your hall

Han:
at the end of its month the moon is dim – the heart at its peril forgets

Meng:
always I fear that friendship’s gold will sadly fade to yearning

Han:
roads go off in all directions, none of us lives to a hundred

Meng:
the four ways lead into the unknown – no one knows which will be best

Han:
a lousy horse will eat what’s offered – the bird leaves fields behind

Meng:
in dangerous times to hide in the mountain – to take the road when it’s calm

Han:
long life is lonely – passion comes of our communion – only measured in talk

Meng:
let us speak of men’s ambitions – this will make us men

Han:
when to curl up and when to come out – the superior man knows this

Meng:
the bright judge never far from light – the orchids never fall

Han:
if not for your ear my voice stops at home – words have nowhere to go





377
the soul’s morning after

after life and death
one comes to know kindness

teeth gnash
for what won’t be repaid





378
mourning poem

poets like climbing steep mountains alone
that’s where most have starved to death

some with smiles
and some climb sadly
but all in the imagination

where you’ve gone is really elsewhere
whether it’s real or not
none can prove

your poems are an ocean east
I gather them through choking grief
know birds will sing
in savage hearts

poets like climbing stiff mountains alone
death is the chasm
shows life brief

I stand on the shore
of the river
to mourn you

my tears and the river
like clichés compete
to end the poem
so





379
thoughts
(collaborative poem with Han Yu)

Meng:
pining in my heart is coiled
worse when the sun sets

till evening I sit
tears sorrow my face

Han:
the old light dims
in the mirror on the table

new grass
grows in the garden

stone on the mountain
still waits for the husband

the river dragon
turns into a sword






380
for the swordsman
(collaborative poem with Han Yu)

Meng:
there is magic in this world
it’s you who has the power

Han:
we built a fire beyond the world
gather to it still aflame

Meng:
a light on the sea
shines to find monsters –
eerie the ways of men

Han:
lightning flies from the grindstone
water spun from there makes a dragon

Meng:
a god will see this sword as a treasure
other gods will write about this

Han:
the sword will frighten
such gods as deserving
…its ways are not merely for men

Meng:
sometimes hear the sword breathe in its box
sound of the dragon slipping
through its river home

Han:
the swords of the dead
who will judge?

Meng:
if I gave the emperor this sword
what should I expect by way of reward?

Han:
stars are wise to expect
just the comfort of clouds






381
sigh for the battlefield

people approach the road
when they see it

comb and cosmetics –
a table adorned

tears on her cheeks
smiles which show dimples

the way as long as men
will make it

loss forever
in the heart






382
Guan Yin cave

in the dark
the ground is all uneven

gentle breeze
sweet rain

just a few joss sticks
mountains are lonely

figs climb about
the lotus seat

375
Ten poems of mourning for the poor scholar official, Lu Yin

1
poets are a solitary stern outfit
starving to death they hug the mountain
to share the empty feeling

white clouds are masterless
it’s not unusual for them to float off

this man was sick for a long time
just a mat on the bed to cover his corpse

the funeral worker who’s come to attend
to young, too weak for the work
mice and rats gnaw the old books

you’ve gone to the home town of new ghosts
how sallow and poorly I look

I’m afraid that when I’m in the ground
no one will come after me

all the springs mourn for you
day and night – hear them murmur


2
insects colour the moon
with their concert

wind from Mang blows on Meng Jiao
I go to Snow Mountain to bury Lu Yin

all of these guests come condoling the dust

thorns grow north
bitter the tears

I pour my libation –
wine mingled with tears

I’m poorly, exhausted –
a fire won’t be fed

it’s the sound of water running
breaks the mourner’s heart


3
thorns and the winds howl
the wailing breaks up
but it returns

sorrow worries
weeping strings

I dream the world passing
through tears in my eyes


4
trees and grass
in Deng Feng deep
roads there are narrow

moss covers the world
where the sun won’t shine

the poor man died without a son
ants traverse the corpse

time long curled in a bed
there’s the sighing
tigers and leopards attend

no other visitors besides
his closest relatives were poems
they were his heart, they were his home

Han Yu wore off a part of the mountain
what he wrote there shines
ten thousand years


5
what is it a sage should bother about?

life is suffering
and death? whom to praise?

fame is a shelter
for the famous’ descendants

your name will moisten the mud

it’s a pity poems bloom and so soon

what’s withered is hard to give speech


Lu Yin mourning poems continued


6
a scholar in the dirty alley
a gentleman in the mountain

the fame that comes from starving to death
got famous that way or got famous after?
no one remembers now

weep for my worries
past, present confuse me

when you were alive we talked
now I run in my own circle


7
we had hair when we met
there was colour in us then
always competing with poems

under the bridges of the moon we trod
raised cups and never saw the shadows

we sobbed as well into such vessels
that was how our fame flowed

plum blossoms in a temple
fragrant flowers of the lake

green soup,
we skipped the greasy mutton

something pure was in words then
echoes of the past we lived up to

the desert came stealing after summer
and autumn and winter for that

now we stand on the shore
and scold the waves coming


8
sages of the past drank deep
in cups they could skip round their sorrow

wine won’t touch the sides of this grief
whitens the dark hair
tears out the grey
makes harsh the voice

vain the pronouncements of deep drinking sages
and vain the sad poetry mourning for them


9
which poets weep for you
as the wild beasts do?

humans can only feel where blood flows

the passion of the beasts
reaches high as heaven

rites are the knife
with which to cut bonds

at your funeral
just a few lonely grovellers

complained how hard it was
burying you


10
saints cry for sages
bones are transfigured
far into stars

the visible is also blank
the planets – shameless wanderers

for you I have written
the last of my soul
of which I am no judge

all that is written
lies ink upon ink
in the ill-lit night of heaven

376
the enthusiasms
or
two poets hitchhiking on the highway
(collaborative poem with Han Yu)

Meng:
my heart follows the sun and the moon – find it in your hall

Han:
at the end of its month the moon is dim – the heart at its peril forgets

Meng:
always I fear that friendship’s gold will sadly fade to yearning

Han:
roads go off in all directions, none of us lives to a hundred

Meng:
the four ways lead into the unknown – no one knows which will be best

Han:
a lousy horse will eat what’s offered – the bird leaves fields behind

Meng:
in dangerous times to hide in the mountain – to take the road when it’s calm

Han:
long life is lonely – passion comes of our communion – only measured in talk

Meng:
let us speak of men’s ambitions – this will make us men

Han:
when to curl up and when to come out – the superior man knows this

Meng:
the bright judge never far from light – the orchids never fall

Han:
if not for your ear my voice stops at home – words have nowhere to go





377
the soul’s morning after

after life and death
one comes to know kindness

teeth gnash
for what won’t be repaid





378
mourning poem

poets like climbing steep mountains alone
that’s where most have starved to death

some with smiles
and some climb sadly
but all in the imagination

where you’ve gone is really elsewhere
whether it’s real or not
none can prove

your poems are an ocean east
I gather them through choking grief
know birds will sing
in savage hearts

poets like climbing stiff mountains alone
death is the chasm
shows life brief

I stand on the shore
of the river
to mourn you

my tears and the river
like clichés compete
to end the poem
so





379
thoughts
(collaborative poem with Han Yu)

Meng:
pining in my heart is coiled
worse when the sun sets

till evening I sit
tears sorrow my face

Han:
the old light dims
in the mirror on the table

new grass
grows in the garden

stone on the mountain
still waits for the husband

the river dragon
turns into a sword






380
for the swordsman
(collaborative poem with Han Yu)

Meng:
there is magic in this world
it’s you who has the power

Han:
we built a fire beyond the world
gather to it still aflame

Meng:
a light on the sea
shines to find monsters –
eerie the ways of men

Han:
lightning flies from the grindstone
water spun from there makes a dragon

Meng:
a god will see this sword as a treasure
other gods will write about this

Han:
the sword will frighten
such gods as deserving
…its ways are not merely for men

Meng:
sometimes hear the sword breathe in its box
sound of the dragon slipping
through its river home

Han:
the swords of the dead
who will judge?

Meng:
if I gave the emperor this sword
what should I expect by way of reward?

Han:
stars are wise to expect
just the comfort of clouds






381
sigh for the battlefield

people approach the road
when they see it

comb and cosmetics –
a table adorned

tears on her cheeks
smiles which show dimples

the way as long as men
will make it

loss forever
in the heart


382
Guan Yin cave

in the dark
the ground is all uneven

gentle breeze
sweet rain

just a few joss sticks
mountains are lonely

figs climb about
the lotus seat

374
mourning at Xia Mountain

1
mountain too steep
for the cranes to climb

tigers in the morning
cuckoos day and night

in the past so much laughter
with whom to cry now?

I weep for the mountain spirits
wind blows their moaning my way

a desperate wraith has hold of the moon
what emptiness – bone turns to ash

thunder over the waves here below
the river like arrows runs

no limit to caverns beneath the earth
in gorges wind, water, stone tussle

a monster roaming in these ridges
where is the rope to tether me here?

2
mist rises to heaven
and rain descends

just so
this boat appears
to have sunk
been resurrected
from the deep

stones and water
their clash like swords

the big waves are dragons
day and night wrestling

trees in blossom hide last year’s Spring
old autumns in the freezing wind

caves of the mountain
are full of dark speech

dark as the sky
or sorrows told

sound of the falls
rings round





3
Xia Mountain
with the sky

ten thousand ways
the Spring may flow

sun sets in fierce waves
where the river must go

a single drop flying
condenses to ether

now heaven’s possession
a thousand years

ah but high up
there’s no sun at noon

hungry beasts roam
their bones sticking out

gnarled roots grip the mountain
like coffins

in frosty trees the sad apes cry
their melodies are rare

but when you hear them
you know that you’re lost

this life as thin as silk
as rough as hemp

tears are all
that heaven holds

in spirits lost
the falling rain






4
wind pure as a chime
on Xia Mountain

stones in the water
fresh fish

waves down here
are heaven’s spent spittle

water as deep as a well
feeds the soul

but the guts are never full here
old rocks are angered

hear the water and stones
their quarrel unending






5
why is the hidden monster so sad?
only the mountain spirits can say

song of the mountain
not of human making

clash between water and stones
the breeze bears

hear rough breath
in the deep mountain pools







6
the slanderer’s heart
that of a small dragon –
fault drawn from thin air

they digest what would not
pass through straight intestines
how vile their sulphurous belches

teeth of stones
chew up the springs

wind blows – a thousand zithers
dim sorrow is never far off

where can I find the pure snow now?
the vigorous moon is climbing and climbs
caves in the mountain dark, deep







7
corners and edges of this mountain
slash at the sun and the moon

all things are slanted
the birds won’t fly straight

rocks in the pond snap like teeth
each to each

drowned spirits won’t be called back

fish scales flash
between the green rocks

sound of the water
just as of hunger

in Spring
the stink of the waterweed







8
mountain deep in dark mist

red lightning’s roots are hidden in water
green the rain falls

monsters in the village
dragons in the valley

flowers won’t blossom in Spring

till death alone
and then alone

fierce are the fish in poisonous ponds
what grows in slant fields about them?

sorrow – one more thing
which won’t be shared







9
the boat sails through thunderclaps
the mountain river runs
fierce as sword clashing

see lizards ashore
how carefully drink
they grip the rock not to fall

big wind, big rain
block the boat’s passage

many the rascals who’ve
come to the mountain
thinking to lay low here

fog grows from the water
fights off the light

loses the boat
in the fierce running river







10
owls make the human noises here
the smallest of dragons brings evil

in bright days then how heaven is flattered
spilt blood is hid in the gloom of the night

on Xia Mountain hungry apes pass on
birds won’t nest in slanted trees

so sharp the rocks around the springs
how helpless sorrows are!







Ten poems of mourning for the poor scholar official, Lu Yin

1
poets are a solitary stern outfit
starving to death they hug the mountain
to share the empty feeling

white clouds are masterless
it’s not unusual for them to float off

this man was sick for a long time
just a mat on the bed to cover his corpse

the funeral worker who’s come to attend
to young, too weak for the work
mice and rats gnaw the old books

you’ve gone to the home town of new ghosts
how sallow and poorly I look

I’m afraid that when I’m in the ground
no one will come after me

all the springs mourn for you
day and night – hear them murmur





2
insects colour the moon
with their concert

wind from Mang blows on Meng Jiao
I go to Snow Mountain to bury Lu Yin

all of these guests come condoling the dust

thorns grow north
bitter the tears

I pour my libation –
wine mingled with tears

I’m poorly, exhausted –
a fire won’t be fed

it’s the sound of water running
breaks the mourner’s heart





3
thorns and the winds howl
the wailing breaks up
but it returns

sorrow worries
weeping strings

I dream the world passing
through tears in my eyes





4
trees and grass
in Deng Feng deep
roads there are narrow

moss covers the world
where the sun won’t shine

the poor man died without a son
ants traverse the corpse

time long curled in a bed
there’s the sighing
tigers and leopards attend

no other visitors besides
his closest relatives were poems
they were his heart, they were his home

Han Yu wore off a part of the mountain
what he wrote there shines
ten thousand years





5
what is it a sage should bother about?

life is suffering
and death? whom to praise?

fame is a shelter
for the famous’ descendants

your name will moisten the mud

it’s a pity poems bloom and so soon

what’s withered is hard to give speech

373
nine poems for the early death of apricots

preface
the early death of apricots
like son’s still at a mother’s breast

petals fell like frost
I make these poems to remember

1
don’t touch the buds with a cold hand
pearls will be wrecked

sudden frost –
don’t harm the Spring
or the world will lose its shine

unheeding day is
and cruel night

buds not even opened scatter
not even a palm full of petals

2
I pick stars from the earth
now the branches are bare
the old man’s sons are gone

a wild duck without water
worse than crows stealing
other birds’ nests

a chick can sing with the wind
will fly when it knows
which way the wind blows

yes there are sighs
for wordless souls fled
but there’s no returning to life


3
tears fall
they go to the heartwood
then no flowers form at the shoot

as short Spring
as grief is deep

nothing will grow
from salt


4
the moon shone
once my sons had passed

now sons and moon
both belong to the sky

better dust on the ground
than this gnarled heart


5
does the soil suffer under my feet?
do the roots recoil?
how can the sky know I’m sincere?

thousands of buds
have fallen from twigs

Spring won’t enter the house of a stranger
haven’t you heard that said?


6

frost kills the newborn Spring
turns twigs to knives
the fallen buds
in frozen beauty
the eye led back to winter


7
tears for the still-born Spring
form frost

the world is frail – a bony hand
knocks on
the sky
won’t hear



8
flowers fail

a man’s broken yearning
all he has to clutch

what if the birds
left off singing

turned to dry brush
to fire


9

frost beats the bloom
fish play to the surface
the breeze an irregular groan

of the past
only this shadow left
day lost

I blame the shutters
and the dusk inside


10

it’s right for you to leave me
though I gave you clothes and food

I’ve heard your new master
whips you half to death

what if I am polite?
I grumble too much

my authority’s gone
better to be beaten

than listen
to my moans

374
mourning at Xia Mountain

1
mountain too steep
for the cranes to climb

tigers in the morning
cuckoos day and night

in the past so much laughter
with whom to cry now?

I weep for the mountain spirits
wind blows their moaning my way

a desperate wraith has hold of the moon
what emptiness – bone turns to ash

thunder over the waves here below
the river like arrows runs

no limit to caverns beneath the earth
in gorges wind, water, stone tussle

a monster roaming in these ridges
where is the rope to tether me here?


2
mist rises to heaven
and rain descends

just so
this boat appears
to have sunk
been resurrected
from the deep

stones and water
their clash like swords

the big waves are dragons
day and night wrestling

trees in blossom hide last year’s Spring
old autumns in the freezing wind

caves of the mountain
are full of dark speech

dark as the sky
or sorrows told

sound of the falls
rings round


3
Xia Mountain
with the sky

ten thousand ways
the Spring may flow

sun sets in fierce waves
where the river must go

a single drop flying
condenses to ether

now heaven’s possession
a thousand years

ah but high up
there’s no sun at noon

hungry beasts roam
their bones sticking out

gnarled roots grip the mountain
like coffins

in frosty trees the sad apes cry
their melodies are rare

but when you hear them
you know that you’re lost

this life as thin as silk
as rough as hemp

tears are all
that heaven holds

in spirits lost
the falling rain


4
wind pure as a chime
on Xia Mountain

stones in the water
fresh fish

waves down here
are heaven’s spent spittle

water as deep as a well
feeds the soul

but the guts are never full here
old rocks are angered

hear the water and stones
their quarrel unending

5
why is the hidden monster so sad?
only the mountain spirits can say

song of the mountain
not of human making

clash between water and stones
the breeze bears

hear rough breath
in the deep mountain pools