Li Bai to Liu Zongyan: “Snow” in Chinese poetry of the 8th and 9th centuries

Posted: December 13, 2012 | Author: Zócalo Poets | Filed under: English |Comments Off on Li Bai to Liu Zongyan: “Snow” in Chinese poetry of the 8th and 9th centuries

A selection of Tang-Dynasty poetry – chosen here for references to winter and snow – as translated from the Chinese by scholar, poet and University of Texas professor Frederick Turner with his collaborator “Y. D.”:

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Li Bai (701-762)

“Thoughts in a Silent Night”

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The moonlight falling by my bed tonight

I took for early frost upon the ground.

I lift my head, gaze at the moon, so bright,

I lower my head, think of my native land.

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Cui Hao (704?-754)

(First of Two Songs of Chang Gan)

“Staying on a Night of Wind and Snow with the Host of Hibiscus Mountain, Liu Changqing”

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Far teal-blue mountains and the sun’s last glow;

In this chill heaven, a poor white-wood hut;

You hear a dog bark at the wicker gate–

At night a man comes home in wind and snow.

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Du Fu (712-770)

“Facing the Snow”

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Many new ghosts cry out, in battle slain;

An old man’s chanting, anxious and alone.

Chaotic clouds oppress the setting sun,

Windblown, a rush of dancing snow spins down.

The gourd’s abandoned by the dry wine-jar,

The stove is real, flames seem to burn again.

The mails are cut, through several prefectures;

I sit here, anxious, write on the air in vain.

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Lu Lun (748-800)

“Songs of the Frontier”

(Number 2 of 6)

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The forest’s dark, grass frightened by the wind;

At night the general draws his bow of horn;

They seek the arrow, find it in the dawn

Buried up to the white fletch in the stone.

The wild geese fly above a moonless sky;

At night the Hun chief’s army slips away.

No sooner had our horse gone in pursuit

Than bow and sword with snow were covered high.

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Meng Jiao (751-814)

“Distant View of the Luo Bridge”

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Beneath the Tian Jin Bridge the ice

has just begun to show;

In Luo Yang City’s empty streets

no traveler will go;

Willows and elms are bare of leaves,

pavilions lie unused;

But in the bright moon brilliantly

I see Mount Song’s far snow.

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Bai Juyi (772-846)

“The Old Charcoal-Seller”

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There is an ancient charcoal-selling man;

He cuts down timber, burns it slow,

High on Mount Zhongnan Shan.

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His face ingrained with dust and ash

Is browned with charcoal smoke,

His temples grey with age and toil,

His fingers black as coke.

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You sell the charcoal, you get paid,

How do you spend the gains?

To clothe the body’s nakedness,

And feed the hunger pains.

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Though only thin rags hang upon

His wretched arms and thighs,

He hopes the winter will be cold

So charcoal’s price will rise.

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An inch of snow fell overnight,

He makes an early start;

Down from the hills through rutted ice

He drives the charcoal-cart.

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The ox gets tired, the man is starved,

The sun has risen higher,

He rests outside the Southern Gate

Upon the market mire.

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Two horsemen lightly canter up;

Who are they? By their dress,

One in yellow, one in plain white,

They’re couriers, more or less.

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With dispatches in hand, they shout

“Imperial command!”

The old man turns his cart, the ox

Drags the whole burden round.

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One cart of charcoal’s half a ton;

North to the palace gate

The envoys chivvy him, and now

He must unload the weight.

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In grief he’s paid but half a bolt

Of muslin, dyed cheap red,

And but nine feet of low-grade silk

Flung round the ox’s head.

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Bai Juyi (772-846)

“Night Snow”

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The quilt and pillow have got strangely cold;

The window’s paper panes begin to glow.

At night I heard how heavy was the snow–

The bamboos, snapped by more than they could hold.

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Liu Zongyuan (773-819)

“Snow River”

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Birds fly no more among these thousand hills,

Men’s footprints blank along ten thousand ways:

With boat, straw hat and cape one old man stays

Fishing alone in the snow-river’s chills.

 

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All translations © Frederick Turner, University of Texas

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