Искусствоед
Li Ch'ing Chao
Quail Sky
The icy sun rises silently
Across the closed window.
The Autumn leaves are falling fast
After last night's black frost.
A little wine makes the return
To tea more enjoyable.
I lay aside my bitter revery,
And enjoy the perfume that rises to my head.
Autumn ends, the nights grow long.
If I indulged my sad heart
The days would be still more
Frozen and sad. It is better
To encourage my frivolity,
And get drunk with the aroma
Of my wine cup.
I refuse to be burdened
By the yellowing heart
Of the chrysanthemum
Along the wall.
(from "One Hundred Poems from the Chinese)
transl. by Kenneth Rexroth
Quail Sky
The icy sun rises silently
Across the closed window.
The Autumn leaves are falling fast
After last night's black frost.
A little wine makes the return
To tea more enjoyable.
I lay aside my bitter revery,
And enjoy the perfume that rises to my head.
Autumn ends, the nights grow long.
If I indulged my sad heart
The days would be still more
Frozen and sad. It is better
To encourage my frivolity,
And get drunk with the aroma
Of my wine cup.
I refuse to be burdened
By the yellowing heart
Of the chrysanthemum
Along the wall.
(from "One Hundred Poems from the Chinese)
transl. by Kenneth Rexroth