Записи с темой: eastern (список заголовков)

Yone Noguchi
Upon the Heights

And victor of life and silence,
I stood upon the Heights; triumphant,
With upturned eyes, I stood,
And smiled unto the sun, and sang
A beautifully sad farewell unto the dying day.
And my thoughts and the eve gathered
Their serpentine mysteries around me,
My thoughts like alien breezes,
The eve like a fragrant legend.
My feeling was that I stood as one
Serenely poised for flight, as a muse
Of golden melody and lofty grace.
Yea, I stood as one scorning the swords
And wanton menace of the cities.
The sun had heavily sunk into the seas beyond,
And left me a tempting sweet and twilight.
The eve with trailing shadows westward
Swept on, and the lengthened shadows of trees
Disappeared: how silently the songs of silence
Steal into my soul! And still I stood
Among the crickets, in the beauteous profundity
Sung by stars; and I saw me
Softly melted into the eve. The moon
Slowly rose: my shadow on the ground
Dreamily began a dreamy roam,
And I upward smiled silent welcome.

@темы: n, japanese, english-other, english-american, english, eastern, 20


Li Po
Fall Cove Songs

Fall Coves's as long as Autumn itself:
its sighing breath makes Autumn fall on every heart,
and a wanderer's heart, already burdened,
may be all the more likely to fall here.
So it's up the eastern tower for the likes of me,
for a long gaze straight back toward Ch'ang-an,
or, straight down, to find the river's water run
And i'll send these words with the river's waters:
"Does your whole heart rest here
with the same thoughts as mine?"
If I row the first clumsy strokes of the way
with my hands full of tears, Fall River will carry
all the way home.

At Fall Cove it's the gibbons make the nights so
A Yellow Mountain it was my own white hair
that I endures.
The water's clear, but it's no garden pool,
rather a rushing, roiling, gut-wrenching stream...
a place to love to leave, but hard to get around to
and what was to be a little trip's become a
tiresome trek.
In just what year, I wonder, will I find myself a
day for my return?
Tears raining into the orphaned boat.

Fall Cove's a rare brocaded bird...
no place like it in the world of men, and few in
Famous Mountain Pheasant's put to shame
By these greenest waters...
wouldn't dare let its feathered gown
be reflected here!

I was a bristle of whiskers when I came to Fall
then one morning I woke up withered.
Turns out the cry of gibbons turns hair white,
till long or short, it's gone to silky wisps.

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@темы: 8, chinese, eastern, l


Li Po
In the Old Style: Westward over Lotus Mountain

Westward over Lotus Mountain
afar, far off: Bright Star!
Hibiscus blooms in her white hand;
with airy step she climbs Great Purity.
Rainbow robes, trailing a broad sash,
floating she brushes the heavenly stairs,
and invites me to mount the Cloud Terrace,
there to salute the immortal Wei Shu-ch'ang.
Ravished, mad, I go with her,
upon a swan to reach the Purple Vault.
There I looked down, on Loyang's waters:
A vast sea of barbarian soldiers marching,
fresh blood spattered on the grasses of the wilds.
Wolves, with men's hats on their heads.

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: 8, chinese, eastern, l


Li Po
The Road to Shu's a Hard Road

The road to Shu's a hard road.
Ow! Aaaii, be damned!
Talk high? Say murderous!
The Shu road's hard.
Try climbing sky!

They say the Lords Ts'an Ts'ung and Yu Fu
founded a kingdom here; but it took
forty-eight thousand years to build the way
to get here from there, from settlement to
up and over the border passes to get a thing
anything in a place like here.

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@темы: l, eastern, chinese, 8


Li Po
Climbing Hsian-Ping Tower

Thinking of leaving my own place, I climb this
and already I'm longing to come home,
wounded by the Autumn sunset.
The sky seems to have grown, the fallen sun is
far away.
The waters are pure where cold waves ride the flowing stream.,
and foreign clouds rise above mountainous trees.
Barbarian geese fly above islands of sand...
Dark, a vast darkness: how many tens of
thousand of miles?
To the limit of the eye's view, everithing orders
me to sorrow.

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: eastern, chinese, l, 8


Li Po
Clear Stream, Midnight, I Hear the Flute

It's a Ch'iang flute, the long kind, and it draws
the notes
of "Plum Petals" as far as the can be
At Wu Creek, by the built-up bank, clear water,
pure feelings.
I'm reminded that Ch'iang flutes can
converse with dragons.
At Cold Mountain, at Fall Cove, it was the
moon that hurt the most.
Here, what tears at the guts? Memories of the
palace, in this sound.

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: l, eastern, chinese, 8


Li Po
Summit Temple

This night, in Summit Temple,
I raise my hand and touch the stars.
I wouldn't dare to raise my voice,
for fear I'd wake them, up in Heaven.

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: l, eastern, chinese, 8


Li Po
A Pa Girl's Song

The river Pa goes like an arrow;
Pa boats just seem to fly.
In the tenth month, if he left then...
what time next year may he be back again?

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: l, eastern, chinese, 8


Li Po

The white bird settles on the Autumn waters,
flies alone, settles like a snowflake.
Heart, mind, set, ready: won't go yet.
We stand alone beside the sandy islet.

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: l, eastern, chinese, 8


Li Po
Tzu Ye: Ballads of Four Seasons

Lady Luo Fu, of the land of Ch'in,
plucks mulberry leaves by the green water side,
delicate pure white hand over the deep green
makeup brighter red in the clear fresh light of
the sun.
"My silkworms aren't hungry, I must go.
Oh, Lord of Five Horses, stop not here, don't
stop here at all."

Mirror Lake's three hundred li around;
lotus blossoms blooming: toward midsummer,
when beneath the fifth moon Hsi-shih plucks
the people watch in a crushing crowd.
She turns her boat back without waiting for the
going home to her love, the King of Yueh...
home to her lover, King of Yueh.

Above, Chang-an, the City of Long Peace,
from ten thousand mansions the lonely clash,
the clash of clubs, is only the "fulling,"
the preparation of the long-stored Winter robes
for Winter use again. The Autumn wind
is not done blowing yet.

He leaves tomorrow, the messenger has told her.
So she sews her warrior's cloak all night,
but the needle's cols as a warrior's
steel to her delicate fingers.
How can she bear to touch the scissors blade?
Now she's done: she sets it on its perilous way,
and starts to count the days till it might reach

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: l, eastern, chinese, 8


Li Po
On the Old Style: I climb high

I climb high, to gaze upon the see,
Heaven and Earth, so vast, so vast.
Frost clothes all things in Autumn.
Winds waft the broad wastes cold.
Glory, splendor: an eastward-flowing stream,
this world's affairs, its waves.
White sun covered, its dying rays,
the floating clouds, no resting place.
In lofty wu-t'ung trees nest lowly finches.
Down among the thorny brush the Phoenix
All that's left, to go home again.
Hand on my sword I sing "The Going's Hard."

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: l, eastern, chinese, 8


Li Po
On the Old Style: Moon's Tint

Moon's tint can't be swept away;
the traveler's grief, there's no way to say it.
White dew proclaims on Autumn robes;
fireflies flit above the grasses.
Sun and moon are in the end extinguished;
Heaven and Earth, the same, will rot away.
Cricket cries in the green pine tree;
he'll never see this tree grow old.
Potions of long life can only fool the vulgar;
the blind find all discernment hard.
You'll never live to be a thousand;
much anguish leads to early death.
Drink deep, and dwell within the cup.
Conceal yourself, your only treasure.

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: l, eastern, chinese, 8


Li Po
A Spring Night in Loyang, Hearing a Flute

From whose house does the jade flute's song
com flying into darkness,
spreading on the Spring breeze, filling Loyang?
All hear the sound of branches breaking, the
mark of parting...
and whose heart does not fill with thoughts of
other gardens, other times?

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: chinese, eastern, 8, l


Li Po
Submitted at the Imperial Command, A Poem Written by the Dragon Pool in the Spring Garden While Viewing the Newly Greening Willows and Listening to the Hundreds of New Songs of the First Nightingales

The East Wind is already greeting the grass of
In the purple palace with its red towers we come
to see
and feel the fertility of Spring.
South of the pool the color of the willows is full
halfway to Spring green,
and delicate tendrils of mist wreathe the palace
while hundred-foot threads of willow
hang down from the carven pillars.
Above, the obedient birds sing together in
within these grounds the find the Spring
comes early.
Spring breeze goes reaching up through blue
clouds, and out,
to a thousand gates and ten thousand doors
where all hear Spring's music!
For today, as with Ancients, "the King is in
and five clouds of co;or hang brightness,
leading, a sparkle, up toward purple purity...
And goes forth from his Golden Palace,
following the sun through the seasons,
returning from Heaven in his jade cart,
he goes for a turn among his flowers,
starting at P'eng-lai to see the dance of the
Immortal Cranes,
and turning homeward through the YI-shih

where the first nightingales were heard to sing.
And those first nightingales flew, circling up, in
the Grove Garden,
Begging to enter the mouth-organ sound of
their song
among the voices of the concert of the
Emperor's phoenix flutes

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: l, eastern, chinese, 8


Li Po
Thoughts of a Quiet Night

Before the bed, bright moon light.
I took it for frost on the ground.
I raised my head to think of the moon,
then bowed my head to dream of home.

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: 8, l, eastern, chinese


Li Po
Sitting at Reverence Mountain

The flocks have flown high up and gone.
A single cloud fades into emptiness.
I meditation endlessly we two:
then only the Mountain of Reverence.

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: 8, chinese, eastern, l


Li Po
Visiting the Tao Master of Tai't'ien Mountain When He Wasn't There

You can hear dogs barking in the sound of the
water here,
and peach blossoms sparkle from the rain.
Where the trees are really deep you'll see a deer.
No one's here by the stream, but I can't herar the
temple bell.
Wild bamboo slices through the sky's bright
white-clouded blues,
and the cascade tries to fly free of the jade-blue
Nobody knows where you've gone.
A sadness like Autumn: I lean on a pine here, a pine there.

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: chinese, 8, l, eastern


Ду Фу

Попугаем владеют
печальные мысли:

Он умён - и он помнит
Про всё, что бывало.

Стали перья короче,
И крылья повисли,

Много слов он узнал -
Только толку в них мало.

Но он всё-таки ждёт -
Не откроется ль клетка:

Люди любят - да держат
В неволе железной.

И пустеет в лесу
Одинокая ветка -

Что же делать ему
С красотой бесполезной?

пер. Ал. Гитович

@темы: д, eastern, chinese, 8


Li Po
I Looked All over the Mountain for the Monk, but Not Finfing Him. I Wrote This

Path of stones goes up beside Cinnabar Creek,
pines like a gate, shut, and moss and lichen in the shade,
with bird tracks on the closed-in stairs.
No one there to open the meditation hall,
so I peek in the window and see a white prayer
hanging on the wall, growing the "dust of the
it draws a vain sigh from me.
I want to be gone, yet I want to stayround and
Fragrant clouds, everywhere, rising from the mountain,
and a rain of flowers from the sky.
There's already an emptiness full of music and
How much the more so when I hear
the pure wail of the gibbons,
It's clear I should cut free of the business of being in the world.
In this place, in this way? Can I know?

transl. by J.P. Seaton

@темы: l, eastern, chinese, 8


Ду Фу
Забираю с собой диких гусей из пруда господина Фана

В старом пруду губернатора Фана
дикие гуси живут.

Спят на песке или плещутся в волнах,
белые как облака.

Спросите вы, почему эти гуси
бросили Фениксов пруд?

Сам Ван Сичжи, каллиграф знаменнтый,
взял их на борт челнока.

пер. Ал. Гитович

@темы: 8, chinese, eastern, д

Pure Poetry