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. Newlywed's Departure 8/13/2012
7. Old Couple's Departure 8/13/2012
8. Spring Night In The Imperial Chancellery 4/8/2010
9. To The Recluse, Wei Pa 4/8/2010
10. Jiang Village 8/13/2012
11. The Eight Formations 4/8/2010
12. Upon The Military Recovery Of Henan And Hebei 4/8/2010
13. Poem For Wei Ba 4/8/2010
14. The Pitiful Young Prince 4/8/2010
15. Thinking Of My Brothers On A Moonlit Night 4/8/2010
16. Thoughts On An Ancient Site:Birthplace Of Wang Qiang 4/8/2010
17. The Temple Of Zhuge Liang 4/8/2010
18. View From A Height 4/8/2010
19. Song Of Lovely Women 4/8/2010
20. Snow At Changsha 1/8/2015
21. A Homeless Man's Departure 8/13/2012
22. P’eng-Ya Road 4/8/2010
23. Overnight At The Riverside Tower 1/1/2004
24. On Meeting Li Guinian Again, South Of The River 4/8/2010
25. On A Prospect Of T'Ai-Shan 4/8/2010
26. Restless Night 1/1/2004
27. From Autumn Thoughts, Poem 1 4/8/2010
28. Rain 1/1/2004
29. No Sight 4/8/2010
30. A Short Poem Written At The Moment When A Rising River Looked Like A Rolling Ocean 4/8/2010
31. Ballad Of The Old Cypress 4/8/2010
32. Behind The Gates Of The Wealthy 4/8/2010
33. Looking At Mount Tai 8/13/2012
34. Meeting Li Guinian In The South 4/8/2010
35. Dreaming Of Li Bai (2) 4/8/2010
36. A Song Of Painting: To General Cao Ba 4/8/2010
37. Ballad Of The Press-Gang At Shihao Village 4/8/2010
38. By The Lake 4/8/2010
39. Dreaming Of Li Bai (1) 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

Rain

Roads not yet glistening, rain slight,
Broken clouds darken after thinning away.
Where they drift, purple cliffs blacken.
And beyond -- white birds blaze in flight.

Sounds of cold-river rain grown familiar,
Autumn sun casts moist shadows. Below
Our brushwood gate, out to dry at the village
Mill: hulled rice, half-wet and fragrant.

[Hata Bildir]