Li Ching Chao
She was born into a literary family and became an antiquarian, book collector, and calligrapher. Of her six original volumes of lyrics, only about 50 lyrics remain.
In Stephen Owen's chapter, "The Snares of Memory," it concentrates on Li Ch'ing-Chao's Afterward to Records on Metal and Stone. He believes that Chao's account is filled with memories of her happy times in her married life and her tremendous bitterness toward her husband for the excessive value he placed on this material collection.
Chao opens the afterward with a comparison of two men, Ch'ang-yu and Yuan-k'ai, deluded by the importance of their possessions. She refers to their love of collecting... more »
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Li Ching Chao Poems
A Morning Dream
This morning I dreamed I followed Widely spaced bells, ringing in the wind, And climbed through mists to rosy clouds. I realized my destined affinity
Search. Search. Seek. Seek. Cold. Cold. Clear. Clear. Sorrow. Sorrow. Pain. Pain. Hot flashes. Sudden chills.
A Friend Sends Her Perfumed Carriage
A friend sends her perfumed carriage And high-bred horses to fetch me. I decline the invitation of My old poetry and wine companion.
To the melody of "Sheng Sheng Man" I pine and peak And questless seek
Sorrow of Departure
Red lotus incense fades on The jeweled curtain. Autumn Comes again. Gently I open My silk dress and float alone
As in a Dream
To the melody of "Ru Meng Lin" Last night in the light rain as rough winds blew, My drunken sleep left me no merrier.
Tz'u No. 6 (Waiting For You)
To the tune of "Red Lips" Lonely in my secluded chamber, A thousand sorrows fill every inch
At a Poetry Party I Am Given the Rhyme C...
Although I've studied poetry for thirty years I try to keep my mouth shut and avoid reputation. Now who is this nosy gentleman talking about my poetry Like Yang Ching-chih
The Sun Sets in Molten Gold
The sun sets in molten gold. The evening clouds form a jade disk. Where is he? Dense white mist envelops the willows.
When Night Comes
To the tune of "Telling My Most Intimate Feelings" When night comes, I am so flushed with wine,
Tz'u No. 8
To the tune of "Rinsing Silk Stream" My courtyard is small, windows idle, spring is getting old.
Tz'u No. 10 (Exile)
To the tune of "Bodhisattva Aliens" Soft breezes, mild sunshine, spring is still young.
Last night thin rain,
Tz'u No. 9 (Weary)
To the tune of "Rinsing Silk Stream" Saddened by the dying spring, I am too weary to rearrange my hair.
(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)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
A Morning Dream
This morning I dreamed I followed
Widely spaced bells, ringing in the wind,
And climbed through mists to rosy clouds.
I realized my destined affinity
With An Ch'i-sheng the ancient sage.
I met unexpectedly O Lu-hua
The heavenly maiden.
Together we saw lotus roots as big as boats.
Together we ate jujubes as huge as melons.
We were the guests of those on swaying lotus seats.
They spoke in splendid language,
Full of subtle meanings.
The argued with sharp words over paradoxes.
We drank tea brewed on living fire.
Although this might not help the ...