Du Fu was a prominent Chinese poet of the Tang Dynasty. Along with Li Bai (Li Bo), he is frequently called the greatest of the Chinese poets. His greatest ambition was to serve his country as a successful civil servant, but he proved unable to make the necessary accommodations. His life, like the whole country, was devastated by the An Lushan Rebellion of 755, and his last 15 years were a time of almost constant unrest.
Although initially he was little-known to other writers, his works came to be hugely influential in both Chinese and Japanese literary culture. Of his poetic writing, nearly fifteen hundred poems have been preserved over the ages. He has been called the ... more »
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Du Fu Poems
Advent of Spring
The city has fallen: only the hills and rivers remain. In Spring the streets were green with grass and trees. Sorrowing over the times, the flowers are weeping. The birds startled my heart in fear of departing.
A slight rain comes, bathed in dawn light. I hear it among treetop leaves before mist Arrives. Soon it sprinkles the soil and, Windblown, follows clouds away. Deepened
Above the tower -- a lone, twice-sized moon. On the cold river passing night-filled homes, It scatters restless gold across the waves. On mats, it shines richer than silken gauze.
Tonight at Fu-chou, this moon she watches Alone in our room. And my little, far-off Children, too young to understand what keeps me Away, or even remember Chang'an. By now,
Alone, Looking for Blossoms Along the Ri...
The sorrow of riverside blossoms inexplicable, And nowhere to complain -- I've gone half crazy. I look up our southern neighbor. But my friend in wine Gone ten days drinking. I find only an empty bed.
I Stand Alone
A falcon hovers at the edge of the sky. Two gulls drift slowly up the river. Vulnerable while they ride the wind,
Gazing at the Sacred Peak
For all this, what is the mountain god like? An unending green of lands north and south: From ethereal beauty Creation distills There, yin and yang split dusk and dawn.
Oxen and sheep were brought back down Long ago, and bramble gates closed. Over Mountains and rivers, far from my old garden, A windswept moon rises into clear night.
Ballad Of The Army Carts
Wagons rattling and banging, horses neighing and snorting, conscripts marching, each with bow and arrows at his hip,
A Woman Of Quality
Matchless in breeding and beauty, a fine lady has taken refuge in this forsaken valley.
Lone Wild Goose
Alone, the wild goose refuses food and drink, his calls searching for the flock. Who feels compassion for that single shadow
A Second Farewell To Governor Yen Wu At ...
We have come far together, but here we must part; the green hills vainly echo my feelings. When will we again take wine cups in hand
Dreaming Of Li Bai (1)
Separation by death must finally be choked down, but separation in life is a long anguish,
By The Lake
The old fellow from Shao-ling weeps with stifled sobs as he walks furtively by the bends of the Sepentine on a day in spring.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Advent of Spring
The city has fallen: only the hills and rivers remain.
In Spring the streets were green with grass and trees.
Sorrowing over the times, the flowers are weeping.
The birds startled my heart in fear of departing.
The beacon fires were burning for three months,
A letter from home was worth ten thousand pieces of gold.
I scratch the scant hairs on my white head,
And vainly attempt to secure them with a hairpin.