When the lean, gray grasses
—Cover me, bury me deep,
No sea wind that passes
—Shall break my sleep.

When you come, my lover,
—Sorrowful-eyed to me,
Earth mine eyes will cover;
—I shall not see.

Though with sad words splendid,
—Praising, you call me dear,
It will be all ended;
—I shall not hear.

You may live love's riot
—Laughingly over my head,
But I shall lie quiet
—With the gray dead.

Love, you will not wake me
—With all your singing carouse
Nor your dancing shake me
—In my dark house.

L OVE'S breath is in the vernal breeze
That fans the cheek on twilight eves;
Love's breath exhales from out the rose,
When morn unfolds its crimson leaves;
Love's breath is in the murmuring sound
That o'er the bubbling fountain rings;
Love's breath is in the little song
The little bird to Nature sings!

Love's breath from yonder starry worlds
Comes down in ether pure and bright;
Love's breath is in the winter's storm,
And in the summer breeze of night.
Warm looks of love from Nature's face
Allure me to her beating heart;

Open thy lattice love Listen to me!
The cool balmy breeze is abroad on the sea!
The moon like a queen, roams her realms of blue,
And the stars keep their vigils in heaven for you
Ere morn's gushing light tips the hills with its ray,
Away o'er the waters away and away!
Then open thy lattice, love listen to me!
While the moon's in the sky and the breeze on the sea!

—Open thy lattice, love listen to me!
In the voyage of life, love our pilot will be!
—He will sit at the helm wherever we rove,
And steer by the load-star he kindled above

Slim cunning hands at rest, and cozening eyes—
Under this stone one loved too wildly lies;
How false she was, no granite could declare;
Nor all earth's flowers, how fair.

In the full river
that plays with the sands
play the women in bright leaf-skirts

and our man of the old cane town
plays partner in their love play:
he belongs to our town,
yet he does not.

See the Halcyon fishing
O'er the glassy stream
All the air's transparent,
What a sunny gleam!
This is lovely weather,
'Tis a Halcyon day,
Sure a storm's impending
Let us haste away.

Through so many years
did I suffer
the agony
of keeping our secret—
that even now
I cannot bear
to let the truth be known.

In this high room, my room of quiet space,
Sun-yellow softened for my happiness,
I learn of you, Wang Wei, and of your loves;
Your rhythmic fisher sweet with solitude
Beneath a willow by the river stream;
Your agéd plum tree bearing lonely bloom
Beside the torrent's thunder; misty buds
Among your saplings; delicate-leaved bamboo.
My room is sweet because of you, Wang Wei,
Your tranquil and creative-fingered love
So many mounds of mournful years ago
In that cool valley where the colors lived.
My ceiling slopes a little like far mountains.

Some fall in love with voices, some with eyes,
Some men are linked together by a tear;
Others by smiles; many who cannot tell
What time the spirit passed who left the spell.
It comes to us among the winds that rise
Scattering their gifts on all things far and near.
The fields of unripe corn, the mountain lake,
And the great-hearted sea—all objects take
Their glory and their witchery from winds:
All save the few black pools the woodman finds
Far in the depths of some unsunny place,
Which stand, albeit the happy winds are out

At thy voice my heart
Wakes as a bird
Wakes in the night
With sudden rapture stirred.

At thy look my soul
Soars as a flame
Soars from the dark
Toward heaven, whence it came.

At thy love my life
Lifts from the clod
As a lily lifts
From its dark sleep toward God.