Li He

The orchid dew is like her eyes,

No rosettes on her tombs,grow bluer the pansies.

Little grass is her cushion.

pine tree is her roof.

She wears the light wind as her gown

and the clear stream as her bracelet.

The carriage she sat silently waits for her in the twilight,

The wildfire follows her like the blue sprites.

Now she's gone on the Xiling Bridge,only the sleet whines about her story.

O faint and ruddy light, that from the sun’s low foot doth spill

In a moist, trembling sprinkle, while — beneath the laurel’s bough —

A thin frost, undissolved, upon the chilly branches lies still.

Yet a dim warmth, a breath almost, begins to disallow

The Winter’s rigid frown; and now the lengthening Day has won

His leave from the long Night — their ancient, silent treaty done.

The emperor was gone just like his autumn breeze;

At night his steed would neigh, at dawn no trace was seen.

By painted rails fragrance still wafts over laurel trees,

His thirty palaces overgrown with mosses green.

Wei eunuch drove a dray to go a long, long way;

In Eastern Pass the sour wind stung the bronze's eyes.

Only the moon of yore saw him leave palace door;

Thinking of his dear lord, he shed tears and heaved sighs.

Withered orchid would say, "Farewell and go your way."

Heaven would have grown old if it could feel as man.

He went with moon-shaped plate beneath the moon desolate;

The waves unheard, far from the town the horses ran.

The King of Qin rode the tiger to eight Poles high:

His sword shone in the air and brightened the blue sky.

His driver struck the sun with a glass-breaking sound;

All were reduced to ashes on the battleground.

Stars were invited to drink wine poured from dragon's head;

The golden pipa played at night would grieve the dead.

The rain treading on Dongting Lake would blow the lute;

The King ordered the moon to go back to its root.

Silver cloud on cloud made the crystal palace bright;

The gate-keeper announced it was still early night.

The phoenix in the tower sang her bewitching song;

Clear fragrance of ladies' silken dress wafted long.

The dancers drank to his health of a thousand years.

From the candles on the fairy trees rose smoke light.

From the lutist's drunken eyes streamed down copious tears.

He digs up jade, he digs up jade in water green

To make a headdress for a lady or a queen.

When he's hungry and cold, the dragon would be sad;

Nor clear nor pure, the water of Blue Creek turns bad.

He eats hazelnuts when it rains in mountains deep;

With tears like the blood shed by the cuckoo, he'd weep.

The Blue Creek dislikes a digger when he appears;

He too dislikes it though dead for a thousand years.

By the mountainside the wind soughs and the rain falls;

A rope hangs around his waist over waterfalls.

How can he not think of his children in his hut cold,

When he sees the forget-me-not on the cliff old?

The desert sand looks white as snow;

The crescent moon hangs like a bow.

When would the steed in golden gear

Gallop all night through autumn clear?

Unsuccessful I stay but with a cup of wine;

The kind host wishes me to live to ninety-nine.

An ancient could not but stay in the west for long;

In vain his household waited with their willow song.

"A young talent often met with contemptuous eye,

Unknown on the old earth under the dreary sky.

You may write letters of two lines now and again,

And you may not court imperial favor in vain."

I would not call back my soul lost in a sad plight,

But when the cock crows, all the world will see daylight.

"While young, you should aim high and soar into the cloud.

Who pities a lonely man sobbing in the crowd?"

I left three years ago;

Again I'm in my nooks.

Tonight green wine aglow,

I forget yellow books.

Ill, I survive at last.

What won't happen on earth?

Glad that the die is cast,

I'm free from care or mirth.

At dawn official drumbeats hasten the sunrise;

At dusk the booming drums call the moon to the skies.

When yellow willows put forth new buds in the town,

In tomb is buried the favorite of the crown.

The drums have boomed a thousand years, still shines the sun,

But ancient emperors of Qin and Han have done.

Your hair once black may turn white as reed flowers stand,

The drums with southern hills will ever guard our land.

Even immortals were buried in the sky,

The drumbeats and the water-clock will never die.

A glazed cup full of amber wine,

The strong drink drips like red pearls fine.

The dragon boiled and phoenix roasted would weep;

The fragrant breeze blows into broidered curtains deep.

The dragon flute is played;Beaten the drums covered with alligator's skin.

The songstress sings with teeth as bright as jade,

And dancers dance with waist as slender as hairpin.

The prime of your life like the sun on the decline,

Peach blossoms fall pell-mell like rain of petals pink.

So I advise you to get drunk with wine.

When buried in the grave, what could you take to drink?

Windswept wutong trees shocking and the warrior bitter,

Lights dimming, the Luowei weeps wintry cloth.

Who would read this bamboo-slip of a book?

And not let it be gutted and pulverized by moths.

Anxiety tonight has pulled my bowels straight,

Cold rain and sweet souls the versifier mourn.

Ghosts from autumn graves chant Bao Zhao’s poems,

Bitter blood over millenniums under the earth jasper green.

Silk of Wu, wutong of Shu and the expanse of autumn high,

Hollow mountains, frozen clouds and stunted water flow.

Jiang E weeps over bamboos, and Su Nü groans,

Li Ping, in central China, is playing the Konghou.

Jade shatters on Kunlun Mountains, and phoenixes shriek,

Lotuses crying dews, and scented orchids smile,

In front of the twelve gates, the icy light thaws.

Twenty-three strings enthuse the Purple Emperor.

Where Nüwa tempers stones to repair the sky,

The stones break, Heaven in shock, and tickle the autumn rain.

Dreaming of entering the Fairy Mount to instruct the Fairy Mom,

Old fish jumping waves, and wiry dragons dancing round.

Wu Zhi, unable to sleep, leans rapt against the osmanthus tree.

The legs of dew, with side-kicks, wet the rabbit cold.