A poor man on a tiny plot
Imagines beyond the forest green;
No words of the wise can mend his lot,
He bears the burden as if a dream.
He plants his field and tends for autumn,
Singing a song of the land he sows,
And though he starves he’s never solemn,
Awaiting each morning the cry of crows.
One day he walks along the eastern bay
And spreads his oars beyond the shore;
Floating with the tide, he flits away
Until returning to land once more.
How sweet this densely hidden land
The sun goes up and soars on to the end
For me to chase somewhere beyond, alone;
Today I’m here to rest and meet a friend,
By dawn I’m off to seek a shore unknown.
It’s been near fifteen years without a rest
And now it seems the noise and crowds increase;
I’ll leave it soon and go perhaps out west,
The burdens gently boxed and left back east.
A western wind is blowing, wild and free,
Across the mountains, streams, and golden plains;
I’ll walk a trail of clouds to where they flee,
Pei Di
Traversing mountains thin and deep
And on through hills and dales revered;
For just a day you’ll be a man
Of Eden, land of love and cheer.
I drifted south to follow the call of birds,
Then hunted around my former haunting grounds
Out west, where all was won with sand-swept words,
I think, once in the red-baked canyon towns.
In the wind somewhere I hear a whistling stone
And stop at the bar along the canyon end;
The moon is always high when drinking alone,
But it’s peaceful now while watching the river bend.
Alone, I sit serene within a bamboo grove,
At ease, I strum the lute and hum a song.
Unknown into the forest deep I’ll rove
Until the shining moon has sung along.
Chinese
竹里館
獨坐幽篁裡，
彈琴復長嘯。
深林人不知，
明月來相照。
Pronunciation
Zhú Lǐ Guǎn
Dú zuò yōu huáng lǐ，
Dàn qín fù cháng xiào。
Shēn lín rén bù zhī，
Míng yuè lái xiāng zhào。
Literal Character Translation
Today no toll in work or soul
As spring is green with ease;
In Central Park I make my mark
To see the cherry trees.
A bird lets out its welcome shout
Beneath the building glass;
The wind lets bare a woman’s hair
In lovely, flowing mass.
I know the moon will come out soon,
For now the sun’s on track;
I gaze at bluffs with cherry puffs,
Unwilling to go back.
Ten years ago I saw you on a beach
Beneath the empty sky, a silhouette
Of sun and sand, a dream within my reach
Beside a patch of dawn-lit grass still wet.
But in the great wide distance lies a dream
Mixed in with siren sounds that echo still,
A vow that’s found in clouds that rise from steam,
Like birds set free who sing beyond a hill.
Each day in lights and city streets,
Construction sounds that crack the air;
Or horns that break in crazy beats
At roadblocks halting everywhere.
I seek somewhere a patch of grass
Beyond a thousand concrete bridges,
A place where I shall pass
A skyline filled with mountain ridges.
But now the air is lit with steam,
The smoky mist pours in and out—
My soul’s a silent, washed-out dream,
A city asleep and filled with doubt.
