I enter the court
Through the middle gate—
And my sleeve is wet with tears.
...
Sent as a present from Annam—
A red cockatoo.
Colored like the peach-tree blossom,
Speaking with the speech of men.
...
“Those who speak know nothing;
Those who know are silent.”
These words, as I am told,
...
I could have a job, but am too lazy to choose it;
I have got land, but am too lazy to farm it.
My house leaks; I am too lazy to mend it.
...
In the land of Tao-chou
Many of the people are dwarfs;
The tallest of them never grow to more than three feet.
...
an evening sitting under
the eaves of the pines
at night sleeping
in Bamboo Lodge
...
When I was almost forty
I had a daughter whose name was Golden Bells.
Now it is just a year since she was born;
...
White billows and huge waves block the river crossing;
Wherever I go, danger and difficulty; whatever I do, failure.
...
Ruined and ill—a man of two score;
Pretty and guileless—a girl of three.
Not a boy—but still better than nothing:
...
Last year, when I lay sick,
I vowed
I'd never touch a drop again
As long as I should live.
...
Good friends,
Why waste your time in wailing
And in sympathy for me?
...
My lute set aside
on the little table
Lazily I meditate
on cherishing feelings
...
Deep the waters of the Black Pool, colored like ink;
They say a Holy Dragon lives there, whom men have never seen.
Beside the Pool they have bu ...
...
At Hsin-fëng—an old man—four-score and eight;
The hair on his head and the hair of his eyebrows—white as the new snow.
...
There came an officer knocking by night at my door
In a loud voice demanding grain-tribute.
My house-servants dared not wait till the morning,
...
here's my snowy crown
time's tinted decrepitude
there's the frost in the courtyard
autumn's glittery breath
...
You were a pearl
In the palm of my hand,
My tiny baby boy.
...
For fifteen long years,
Times without number
I have come
...
A Forsaken Garden
I enter the court
Through the middle gate—
And my sleeve is wet with tears.
The flowers still grow
In the courtyard,
Though two springs have fled
Since last their master came.
The windows, porch, and bamboo screen
Are just as they always were,
But at the entrance to the house
Someone is missing—
You!
I'd love to see the poem Newly Planted Bamboo on your site. Is that possible? regards Lesley in Sydney
Where can I find poem Lake Shang