Du Fu

(712 - 770 / Henan Province / China)

Du Fu Poems

1. On Seeing A Pupil Of Kung-Sun Dance The Chien-Ch`i 4/8/2010
2. To Bi Siyao 4/8/2010
3. Twenty-Two Rhymes To Left-Prime-Minister Wei 4/8/2010
4. Passing The Night At Headquarters 4/8/2010
5. Thoughts Of Li Po From The World's End 4/8/2010
6. To The Recluse, Wei Pa 4/8/2010
7. Newlywed's Departure 8/13/2012
8. Dreaming Of Li Po 3/18/2016
9. The Mockingbird 3/18/2016
10. The Firefly 4/11/2016
11. Old Couple's Departure 8/13/2012
12. Spring Night In The Imperial Chancellery 4/8/2010
13. Jiang Village 8/13/2012
14. Upon The Military Recovery Of Henan And Hebei 4/8/2010
15. The Eight Formations 4/8/2010
16. The Pitiful Young Prince 4/8/2010
17. Poem For Wei Ba 4/8/2010
18. Thinking Of My Brothers On A Moonlit Night 4/8/2010
19. Thoughts On An Ancient Site:Birthplace Of Wang Qiang 4/8/2010
20. The Temple Of Zhuge Liang 4/8/2010
21. View From A Height 4/8/2010
22. Song Of Lovely Women 4/8/2010
23. Snow At Changsha 1/8/2015
24. P’eng-Ya Road 4/8/2010
25. Overnight At The Riverside Tower 1/1/2004
26. A Homeless Man's Departure 8/13/2012
27. On Meeting Li Guinian Again, South Of The River 4/8/2010
28. Restless Night 1/1/2004
29. On A Prospect Of T'Ai-Shan 4/8/2010
30. Rain 1/1/2004
31. No Sight 4/8/2010
32. From Autumn Thoughts, Poem 1 4/8/2010
33. A Short Poem Written At The Moment When A Rising River Looked Like A Rolling Ocean 4/8/2010
34. Ballad Of The Old Cypress 4/8/2010
35. A Song Of Painting: To General Cao Ba 4/8/2010
36. Looking At Mount Tai 8/13/2012
37. Ballad Of The Press-Gang At Shihao Village 4/8/2010
38. Meeting Li Guinian In The South 4/8/2010
39. By The Lake 4/8/2010
40. A Second Farewell To Governor Yen Wu At The Fengji Post Station 4/8/2010
Best Poem of Du Fu

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.

Read the full of Advent Of Spring

Full Moon

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.

Empty peaks, silence: among sparse stars,
Not yet flawed, it drifts. Pine and cinnamon
Spreading in my old garden . . . All light,
All ten thousand miles at once in its light!

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