Autumn Daybreak, Walking through a Deserted Village in South Valley

Autumn Daybreak, Walking through a Deserted Village in  South Valley

at autumn’s end, frost and dew hanging heavy,

rise at dawn to walk through a hidden valley—

yellow leaves have enveloped the creek bridge,

in the deserted village, nothing but ancient trees—

winter blossoms here and there, sparse and lonely,

the stream’s murmur cut off, then picks up again—

my heart’s desires long since have been put aside:

what is it that startles the milu deer?

Translation © Jack Hayes 2018

Based on Liu Zongyuan: 秋曉行南谷經荒村

Qiū Xiăo Xíng Nán Gŭ Jīng Huāng Cūn

Note: Milu—also known as Père David’s deer—are essentially extinct in the wild, though a small feral population does currently exist in China, composed of a herd that escaped a zoo. Otherwise, the milu only exist in zoos. Dating back to prehistorical times, milu ranged across all of China, though the population shrank steadily during historical times. The milu are sometimes called “sibuxiang” (Chinese: 四不像; pinyin: sì bú xiàng), which could be translated as “four not alike”; they are variously described as having "the hooves of a cow but not a cow, the neck of a camel but not a camel, antlers of a deer but not a deer, the tail of a donkey but not a donkey"; "the nose of a cow but not a cow, the antlers of a deer but not a deer, the body of a donkey but not a donkey, tail of a horse but not a horse"; "the tail of a donkey, the head of a horse, the hoofs of a cow, the antlers of a deer"; "the neck of a camel, the hoofs of a cow, the tail of a donkey, the antlers of a deer"; "the antlers of a deer, the head of a horse and the body of a cow".

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“Snow Mountains”: Guo Xi. 11^th Century. Public domain.

After Lunch

After Lunch

after the meal: doze off for one nap;

waking, it’s time for two bowls of tea—

raise my head to gaze at the sun; it’s

already turned southwest, light slanting—

those who are glad rue the urgent sun;

those who grieve hate the distant new year—

those knowing neither grief nor gladness

bear life, long or short, to the far shore

translation © Jack Hayes 2018

based on Bai Juyi: 食後

Shí Hòu

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

Excerpts from Bai Juyi's "Biography of a Master of Drunken Poetry": calligraphy by Fujiwara no Yukinari（972 – 1028）; detached section of a handscroll mounted as a hanging scroll; ink on paper – early 11^th century.

Public domain

Moon Poem

Moon Poem

perched on the highest peak I gaze

in all directions without end—

no one knows I sit here alone;

orphan moon shines on the cold stream,

but there’s no moon within the stream:

the moon’s after all in blue skies—

I recite this scrap of a song,

but in the song, no trace of Zen

translation © Jack Hayes 2018
based on Hanshan

For more on Hanshan (literally “Cold Mountain”) see this Wikipedia page.

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“The Immortal Hanshan”: Attributed to Jiang Gui; c 1500 – Hanging scroll, ink on silk.

Public domain

On The Highest Tower In White Emperor Castle

On The Highest Tower In White Emperor Castle

on the walls the way’s sharp, narrow: in waning sun, pennants

signal mourning—

one stands alone on the misty tower’s soaring heights—

in the gorge cleft: cloud and fog where dragon and tiger sleep—

the sun-drenched Yangzi enfolds roaming turtles and alligators

western limbs of the Fusang Tree meet this severed stone;

eastern shadow of the Ruo River accompanies its long current

what son of man leans on his gooesfoot cane sighing for this

generation?

he weeps blood into thin air, turns his white head away

translation © Jack Hayes 2018

based on Du Fu: 白帝城最高樓

báidìchéng zuì gāo lóu

Note: This is a much more conventional reading of a poem Sheila Graham-Smith & I worked on (& posted) earlier.

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

Temple of the White Emperor, Baidicheng: photo by Wiki user Tomasz Dunn, [https://www.flickr.com/people/63651050@N00] who makes it available under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license. [https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en]

Three Poems for Chang’e

Chang’e

on the candlelit mica screen, a distant shadow;

Heaven's River ebbs slowly, the morning star sinks low—

Chang’e must regret stealing the elixir of life:

blue of sea, blue of sky, her dark heart, night after night

translation © Jack Hayes 2017

based on Li Shangyin: 嫦娥

Cháng'é

Mid-Autumn Moon

insects hidden under grass, frost atop the leaves;

a vermilion balcony presses against the bright lake—

the Rabbit chilled, the Toad cold, the Cassia blossoms white:

this night must be gut-wrenching for Chang’e

based on Li Shangyin: 月夕

yuè xī

Frost Moon

once expeditionary geese are heard, cicadas fall silent;

the hundred-foot tower connects river and sky—

Blue Maiden and White Lady both can endure cold;

in the moon, within frost, they compete in beauty

based on Li Shangyin:  霜月

shuāng yuè 

 

Notes:

This set of translations would be more appropriate for the Mid Autumn Festival, Zhōngqiū Jié, which is the full moon closest to the Autumn Equinox. But rather wait until next September, I’m posting them now.

We have no way of knowing whether Li Shangyin intended these poems as a complementary set or as distinct & individual compositions. James JY Liu in his seminal work on the poet, The Poetry of Li Shang-yin: Ninth-Century Baroque Chinese Poet, does place the poems together & discuss them as a group. Poet David Young also places the poems together under the title “Three for the Goddess of the Moon” in his Five T'ang Poets. Since Young is a poet & not a Sinologist, I assume in grouping the poems together he is following Liu either directly or at second or third hand.

For more information on the Chang’e myth, see the Wikipedia page. Briefly, Chang’e stole the elixir of immortality & flew to the moon, where she lives with a rabbit (or hare) who pounds herbs into the elixir of immortality with a mortar & pestle & a three-legged toad. There is also a cassia tree on the moon in this myth. Chang’e is the “White Lady” mentioned in the third poem (素娥, sù é), while the Blue Maiden (青女, qīng nŭ) is Qing Nu, the Goddess of Frost & Winter.

As is the case with almost all the Chinese translations, grateful acknowledgment is due to Sheila Graham-Smith, who did a marvelous job of elucidating the first line of the first poem.

Image links to it source on Wiki Commons:

Chang'e flees to the moon: from Yoshitoshi’s 100 Aspects of the Moon. (1885-1892)

Public domain.

In the Classical Style

In the Classical Style

this lifetime passes, a wandering guest;

this death, like someone who returns home—

an upstream journey between earth and heaven,

then the grief of dust across ten thousand years—

the moon rabbit grinds the elixir in vain,

the tree of life already turns to kindling—

white bones lie desolate, without voice,

while dark pines rejoice, sensing springtime—

ahead there’s sighing, behind there’s sighing too:

this glory of a brief day, what’s it worth

translation © Jack Hayes 2017
based on Li Bai: 拟古

nĭ gŭ

Note:

This poem has been titled “Old Dust” in other English translations, though that isn’t the meaning of the characters passed down in Chinese tradition as a title: 拟古. It’s worth noting in this context that Li Bai has a series of fifty poems titled古風 (gŭ fēng), which might be translated as “Antiquity”, or “Ancient Airs” or “After the Classics” or some similar phrase. Victor Mair has translated the whole sequence in his excellent Four Introspective Poets, & Paula Varsano has translated a number of the poems in her study, Tracking the Banished Immortal: The Poetry of Li Bo and Its Critical Reception. My sense is that Li Bai in this poem is also deliberately looking back to his classical predecessors.

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

Sunset at Mt Tai in Shandong province, China, January 2005. Photo by Wiki Commons user Pfctdayelise, who makes the image available under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 Generic, 2.0Generic & 1.0 Generic licenses.

Moon

Moon

in the fourth watch the mountains spew up the moon,

in night’s remains, waters illuminate the tower—

in essence, a dusty case revealing a mirror,

curtains raising themselves in gusts to the topmost hook—

the Rabbit ought to ponder my crane-white hair,

but the Toad only longs for my sable coat—

I mull over the Widow Lady Chang-E,

how she bears the chill of the ninth month

translation © Jack Hayes 2017
based on Du Fu: 月

yuè

Note:

Chang-E is the Moon Goddess, & her companions are the Jade Rabbit (or Hare), who pounds herbs into the elixir of immortality, as well as a Toad, often depicted with three legs. Chang-E pilfered the herbs of immortality from her husband, the mythical archer Yi, & flew to the moon. In poetry, she is often a figure for loneliness.

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

Tang dynasty (618-906) bronze mirror with moon goddess and rabbit design. Photo by Wiki user Hiart [link provided on Common is empty], who publishes it under the following license: This file is made available under the Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication.

Dao De Jing 19

Dao De Jing 19

Reject sagacity, abandon expertise

& the people will benefit a hundred times over;

reject altruism, abandon morality,

and the people will return to benevolence;

reject ingenuity, abandon profit,

& thieves will no longer steal.

But these three are superficial & not in themselves sufficient.

Thus follow this directive:

manifest simplicity, embrace modesty,

diminish self-interest, curtail desire.

Laozi, 道德經

Translation by John Hayes

The translation is is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. 

Unlike with my original poetry & poetry translations, I don’t asset a copyright claim on my translation of the Dao De Jing. It may be freely used under the terms of the Creative Commons license.

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“Xuan Yuan Inquires of the Dao”, scroll, color on silk, 32 x 152 cm. Xuan Yuan is the given name of the Yellow Emperor. This painting is based on the story that the Yellow Emperor went out to the Kongtong Mountains to meet with the famous Daoist sage Guangchengzi. Ming Dynasty.

Public domain.

Huazi Ridge

Huazi Ridge

birds fly off into the infinite;

on the mountain range autumn color returns—

walking up, walking down along Huazi ridge:

do grief & regret ever reach an end

Translation by Jack Hayes © 2017

based on Wang Wei: 華子 岡

huá zĭ gāng

Image links to its source in Wiki Commons:
Landscape attributed to Southern Song artist, Yamato Bunkan, Nara, Japan.

Public domain.

Sent North on a Rainy Night

Sent North on a Rainy Night

               

you ask the date of my return: there’s no date;

in the Ba mountains ponds swell with autumn rain—

when may we again trim wicks by the west window,

and speak together about Ba mountain night rain

based on Li Shangyin: 夜雨寄北

yè yŭ jì běi

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“Cloudy Mountains”: Mi Youren; 1130.

Public domain.

Taking Down A Trellis

Taking Down A Trellis

the bound sticks already wither & fall;

the gourd’s leaves turn wilted & sparse—

since its white flowers managed to bear fruit

how can green vines not accept this dismantling—

autumn insects’ voices haven’t gone away;

sparrows at dusk: what can they be thinking—

in the cold, things now fall to waste;

human life also has its beginnings

based on Du Fu: 除架

chú jià

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“Early Autumn”: Qian Wuan. 13^th Century; ink & colors on paper scroll.

Public domain

 

Partridge Sky

Partridge Sky

forest groves cut off mountain dawn, bamboo hides the walls,

cicadas’ hubbub fades in grass by the small pond—

white birds appear reeling & reeling again through the sky,

lotus shines vermilion, its delicate scent on the water—

past the cottages,

near the ancient city,

I stroll quietly on goosefoot cane, turning to the oblique light—

thanks to yesterday’s midnight rain

I get another cool day in this drifting life

Translation by Jack Hayes

© 2017

based on Su Shi: 鷓鴣天

zhè gū tiān

Many thanks as always to Sheila Graham-Smith for her helpful suggestions.

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“Autumn Skies Part”: Guo Xi. Song Dynasty – Public domain

And don’t tell me anything

 
And don’t tell me anything

And don’t tell me anything,

that someone can kill perfectly,

since, sweating ink,

someone does all he can, don’t tell me…

We’ll come back, gentlemen, to see ourselves with apples,

the creature will pass by late,

Aristotle’s expression armed

with grand wooden hearts,

and that of Heraclitus grafted onto that of Marx,

that of the gentle pealing roughly…

It’s what my throat told me:

someone can kill perfectly.

Gentlemen,

kind sirs, we’ll come back without parcels;

until then I demand, will demand of my frailty

the day’s stress, which,

as I see, was already waiting for me on my bed.

And I ask my hat for memory’s ill-fated analogy,

because sometimes I assume my immense mournfulness with success,

because sometimes I drown in my neighbor’s voice,

and endure

numbering the years on kernels of corn,

brushing off my clothes to the a dead man’s tune,

or sitting drunk in my coffin…

César Vallejo, “Y no me digan nada”

Translation by Jack Hayes

© 2017

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“Héraclite” (“Heraclitus”): Johannes Moreelse; circa 1630.

Public domain

 

Dao De Jing 18

Dao De Jing 18

When the Great Way was abandoned, humaneness & morality became abundant;

Wit & cleverness emerged, & hypocrisy abounded;

When harmony no longer held through the six close kinships*, filial sons grew abundant;

When the nation was benighted with disorder, loyal ministers grew plentiful.

Laozi, 道德經

Translation by John Hayes

The translation is is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. 

Unlike with my original poetry & poetry translations, I don’t asset a copyright claim on my translation of the Dao De Jing. It may be freely used under the terms of the Creative Commons license.

Note:

* 六親 [liù qīn]

six close relatives, namely: father 父[fu4], mother 母[mu3], older brothers 兄[xiong1], younger brothers 弟[di4], wife 妻[qi1], male children 子[zi3]

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“Bagua diagram by Zhao Huiqian ("River Chart spontaneously [generated] by Heaven and Earth" 圖河.自地天). This image may in fact be a reproduction of the diagram by Hu Wei in his Yitu mingbian (‘Clarification of the diagrams in the book of changes’), dated 1706.” circa 1370; 1706. Public domain.

I am going to speak of hope

I am going to speak of hope

I don’t suffer this pain as César Vallejo. I don’t grieve now as an artist, as a man or even as a simple living being. I don’t suffer this pain as a catholic, or a muslim, or an atheist. Today I only suffer. If I weren’t called César Vallejo, I’d still suffer this same pain. If I weren’t an artist, I’d still suffer with it. If I weren’t a man or even a living being, I’d still suffer with it. If I weren’t a catholic, an atheist or a muslim, I’d still suffer with it. Today I suffer from further down. Today I only suffer.

I grieve now without explanations. My pain’s so deep it has neither a cause nor the lack of a cause. What would its cause be? Where is that thing of such importance it might leave off being the cause? Nothing is its cause; nothing has been able to leave off being its cause. From what has this pain been born, by itself? My pain’s from the north wind & the south wind, like neutered eggs that some rare birds lay conceived from the wind. If my bride were dead, my pain would be the same. If they’d sliced my throat to the root, my pain would be the same. If life were, in short, some other way, my pain would be the same. Today I suffer from higher up. Today I only suffer.

I look at the hungry man’s pain & see that his hunger walks so far from my pain that if I starved myself to death, a blade of grass would turn up at my grave at least. The same with the lover. How generative his blood is, unlike mine without spring or consummation.

I used to believe that all things in the universe were, inevitably, fathers or sons. But here’s my pain today, neither father nor son. It lacks a back for nightfall, just as it has too much chest for daybreak & if they put it in a bright room, it wouldn’t cast a shadow. Today I suffer, come what may. Today I only suffer.

César Vallejo, “Voy a hablar de la esperanza”

Translation by Jack Hayes

© 2017

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“Schieles Wohnzimmer in Neulengbach” (“Schiele's Room in Neulengbach”): Egon Schiele. oil on panel; 1911.

Public domain.

Dao De Jing 17

Dao De Jing 17

The one who ranks highest is scarcely known by the people;

The one who ranks second, they love & praise;

The one who ranks third, they fear;

The one who ranks fourth, they despise.

If you have no trust, no trust will be shown you in return.

The sage removes himself, as if his words are precious.

When the work is done & duties performed successfully, the people say: “We did this ourselves!”

Laozi, 道德經

Translation by John Hayes

The translation is is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. 

Unlike with my original poetry & poetry translations, I don’t asset a copyright claim on my translation of the Dao De Jing. It may be freely used under the terms of the Creative Commons license.

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

Statue of a Taoist sage. 16th century. Photo by Wiki user BurgererSF, who makes it available under the Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal PublicDomain Dedication.

Dao De Jing 16

Dao De Jing 16

Come to utmost emptiness,

preserve deep stillness.

The ten thousand things arise as one,

& as we see return to their source.

Returning to the source is called stillness—returning thus is unchanging fate;

where the unchanging is known there’s wisdom,

where the unchanging isn’t known, there’s lawlessness.

Knowledge of the unchanging embraces all, & embracing all is justice.

justice then is majesty, majesty then is divine, the divine then is the Way;

the Way endures through time.

One who follows the Way is free from peril even until death.

Laozi, 道德經

Translation by John Hayes

The translation is is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. 

Unlike with my original poetry & poetry translations, I don’t asset a copyright claim on my translation of the Dao De Jing. It may be freely used under the terms of the Creative Commons license.

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“Four Immortals Saluting Longevity”: Shang Xi, early Ming Dynasty, hanging scroll, Color on silk. (“The immortals are from left to right: Shide standing on a broom, Hanshan standing on a banana leaf, Iron-Crutch Li standing on a crutch, and Liu Haichan riding a 'Chan Chu' three footed toad. The being riding the crane is the Longevity Star God”).

Public domain.

Distant Footsteps

Distant Footsteps

My father’s sleeping. His august countenance

implies a gentle heart;

just now so sweet…

if there’s anything bitter in him, that will be me.

there’s loneliness in this household; praying;

and there’s no news of the children today.

My father wakes, auscultates

the flight into Egypt, the stanching goodbye.

He’s now so close;

if there’s anything distant in him, that will be me.

And my mother walks there in the orchards,

savoring a flavor already without flavor.

She’s now such softness,

such a wing, such an exit, such love.

There’s loneliness in the home without any racket,

without news, without green, without children.

And if anything’s broken this afternoon,

and falls and creaks,

it’s two roads, white, curved.

My heart moves along them on foot.

César Vallejo, “Los pasos lejanos”

Translation by Jack Hayes

© 2017

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

"Flucht nach Ägypten": Hans Sandreuter; oil on canvas; 1885.

Public domain.

 

The Gypsy Woman

The Gypsy Woman

The gypsy knew in advance

Our lives are crossed by nights

We bade her fare-thee-well and then

Hope withdrew from these wells

Clumsy as a tame bear love

Danced upright whenever we wished

And the bluebird molted its feathers

And the mendicants lost their Ave

We all know well enough we’re damned

But hope of love along the way

Makes us ponder hand in hand

What the gypsy had foretold

Apollinaire “La tzigane”

Translation by Jack Hayes © 2017

Image links to its source on Wiki Commons:

“Gitana de perfil” (“Profile of a Gypsy”): Isidre Nonell  (1872–1911). Oil on canvas; 1902. Public domain.

Cornel Dogwood Grove

Cornel Dogwood Grove

bearing fruit it’s vermilion & green,

as if its blossoms opened anew—

to keep your guest in these mountains

offer him this hibiscus cup

Translation by Jack Hayes © 2017

based on Wang Wei: 茱萸沜

zhū yú pàn

Image links to its source in Wiki Commons:

Cornus officinalis's fruits; photo by Dalgial, who makes it available under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unportedlicense.