Classic Poem

Chang'an's broad avenues
link up with narrow lanes,
There black oxen and white horses,
coaches of fragrant woods,
Jade-fit palanquins go left and right
past the mansions of lords,
Gold riding whips in a long train move
toward barons' homes
Dragons bite jeweled canopies,
catching the morning sun,
The phoenix disgorges dangling fringe,
draped with evening's red clouds.
A hundred yards of gossamer strands
strain to enwrap the trees,
While a single graceful flock of birds
join their cries among flowers
Cries among flowers, playful butterflies,
by the palace's thousand gates,
The emerald trees, the silver terraces,
thousands of different colors
Double-decked passageways, intertwined
windows make the union of lovers.
Paired tower gates; rising layers of tiles
which sweep as phoenix wings
The Liang clan's muraled tower
rises into the skies,
The Emperor of Han's golden columns
jut straight beyond the clouds
But those you gaze on before great
buildings are those you do not know,
And those you meet upon the paths,
no acquaintances of yours
Tell me of her who plays the pipes
off into purple mists —
She has spent her years of beauty
in the study of the dance
If we could become the bimu fish,
why should we flee from death?
Could we but be the mandarin ducks,
no yearnings to be immortals
The bimu , the mandarin ducks,
are truly worth our yearning —
They go in pairs, they come in pairs —
can't you see them now?
Most I hate that single phoenix
woven in the top of the drape,
Most I love the swallow pair
fixed on the curtained door.
Pairs of swallows fly in their pairs
around the painted beams,
There, gauze hangings, the kingfisher
quilt, scent of turmeric
Then one by one, hairdos like clouds,
cicada-wing curls hanging,
Eyebrows slender like new moons
above the tawny oils.
Tawny with oil, white with powder,
they step from coaches,
Charms within, loveliness within,
hearts not fixed on one
Bewitching boys on jeweled horses
with ironblack spots,
And courtesans, pins of coiling dragons,
golden legs bent under.
In the office of the Censorate
the crows cry by night,
By the Constabulary gate
the sparrows go to roost
Mightily rising Vermilion Walls
look down on roads like jade,
In the distance azure carriages
sink behind gold-fast bastions
Slings are clasped, falcons flown
north of Duling,
Lots drawn for killing by sworn companions
west of the Wei.
Greeting each other the bravos
with lotus-hilted swords,
Spend nights together on paths to peach
and plum, the houses of singing girls.
At sunset in singing girls' houses
are skirts of purple gauze,
And a verse of clear singing
comes swelling from their mouths.
In the northern halls night after night,
people move as the moon,
On southern paths at every dawn,
riders move as the clouds.
Southward paths and northern halls
link through the Northern Quarter,
Then great crossroads and wide highways
rein in the Markets
Pliant willows and green ash
hang brushing the earth,
Sweet air and red dust
rise darkening the skies
Royal heralds of the House of Han come,
a thousand outriders,
Then kingfisher-colored liquors
in parrot-shaped goblets.
Blouses of gauze and jeweled sashes
are taken off for you,
The songs of Yan, the dances of Wu
for you performed
But there are others bold and splendid,
called " minister, " " general, "
The day turns, the heavens roll,
and neither will yield to the other
Haughty spirits ever willing
to push aside a Guanfu,
A hold on power which cannot give
in the least to a Minister Xiao
Haughty spirits, hold on power,
the stuff of ruthless heroes,
Blue Dragon and Purple Swallow,
great steeds in the spring wind
They said themselves their songs and
dances would last a thousand years,
And claimed a pride and extravagance
beyond the Great Lords
But the glory of each thing in its
season was not to wait on them,
Mulberry fields and green oceans
interchange in an instant.
Where once were the golden stairs,
the halls of white marble,
We now see only
the green pines remaining
Silent there in the emptiness,
the dwelling of Yang Xiong,
Year after year, every year,
his whole bed covered with books.
Alone are the cassia flowers,
blooming on South Mountain,
They fly back and forth,
fly into his sleeves.