When peonies were in bloom I loathed going out
To bathe in the dust of Luoyang’s spring
Now peonies are in bloom somewhere else
Highlighting the lonely greenness of Beijing
East and west of Gushui is good for a picnic
I remember best the beacon tower of southern hill
There the winding wall could not lock out
The spring that removed trees of winter chill
The banks are level with the wavy river
In the fine breeze exuberant grass quiver
For thousands of years it is the same scene
By the boat rail, I whisper a southern tune
Colorful pebbles paved the park's paths
Solemn stones built the martyrs' shrine
Gone are memories of a war-rampant past
Loudly vendors shout their goods fine
Mountains and rivers, years and months are all here
On the pebbles laid at the bottoms of bowels
A wonderful hand must have inscribed the pictures
I marvel at the spiritual designs of the heaven
I came to the famed Fragrance House to see the Fragrance Lady
As if I were the legendary emperor who was a play boy
There I met only a janitor, with hands of delicacy
She said she knew nothing about the South Ming Dynasty!
Rain in the fog added color to verdant trees
Milky clouds seemed to be hanging on branches
Dusk came early in the mountain where pine trees stood high
Fearing the fall of darkness I hurried my feet
In haze the waves of Supreme Lake tried to escape the shore
In rain mountains and waters were more beautiful
I love more the men fishing on the long dike
The stone bridge
九 寨 沟 诗 抄 六 首
1994. 6. 25-8. 1
山 景
山 间 千 松 绿 ， 沟 底 一 涧 白 。 池 深 清 见 底 ， 峰 利 破 云 开 。
Green are the pine trees in the mountains
White the foams of the stream in the vally
The deep ponds are so clear as to reveal the bottom
The peaks are so sharp as to pierce open the sky
A brisk bonfire under shining stars
Long sleeves dance to the fragrance of wind
What a melody, this Tibetan music of immortal land
As I try to think of the outside world, my memories blur
二
A young girl in her full grown years
Is lovable for her singing and dancing
Once the guests are gone and tea cups cold
Who will face the mountains, of the fun thinking?
Before dusk falls the sun is down in the west
The courtyrard is deserted at this dinner hour
On the zigzag bridge a girl feels sleepy
Her delicate figure reflected in the pond
Low rain clouds darkens the valley
Hiding the peaks that were seen in fine time
leisurely I listen to the rain in the vacant valley
And think of the southern plums going to ripe
