|
|
| |
Alone, Looking for Blossoms Along the River
|
|
|
| |
The sorrow of riverside blossoms inexplicable,
And nowhere to complain -- I've gone half crazy.
I look up our southern neighbor. But my friend in wine
Gone ten days drinking. I find only an empty bed.
A thick frenzy of blossoms shrouding the riverside,
I stroll, listing dangerously, in full fear of spring.
Poems, wine -- even this profusely driven, I endure.
Arrangements for this old, white-haired man can wait.
A deep river, two or three houses in bamboo quiet,
And such goings on: red blossoms glaring with white!
Among spring's vociferous glories, I too have my place:
With a lovely wine, bidding life's affairs bon voyage.
Looking east to Shao, its smoke filled with blossoms,
I admire that stately Po-hua wineshop even more.
To empty golden wine cups, calling such beautiful
Dancing girls to embroidered mats -- who could bear it?
East of the river, before Abbot Huang's grave,
Spring is a frail splendor among gentle breezes.
In this crush of peach blossoms opening ownerless,
Shall I treasure light reds, or treasure them dark?
At Madame Huang's house, blossoms fill the paths:
Thousands, tens of thousands haul the branches down.
And butterflies linger playfully -- an unbroken
Dance floating to songs orioles sing at their ease.
I don't so love blossoms I want to die. I'm afraid,
Once they are gone, of old age still more impetuous.
And they scatter gladly, by the branchful. Let's talk
Things over, little buds ---open delicately, sparingly.
Tu Fu
Read poems about / on: spring, river, crazy, dance, sorrow, beautiful, house, friend, red, alone, fear, dark, light, poem, butterfly, girl
|
|
User Rating: |
|
7.3
/10
(23 votes) |
|
|
|
|
| |
| Comments about this poem (Alone, Looking for Blossoms Along the River by Tu Fu) |
more comments >>
|
Click here to write your comments about this poem (Alone, Looking for Blossoms Along the River by Tu Fu)
Sope Soetan (5/10/2008 5:41:00 PM)
that was so deep
and full of meaning
please comment my poems |
Michael Pruchnicki (5/10/2008 4:38:00 PM)
Why should a lonely poet getting on in years dread the oncoming of
spring? He shudders at the sight of blossoms shrouding the river banks
with red and white flowers. He looks east to the flower-filled smoke over
the wineshop, where he remembers drinking and enjoying the company
of beautiful dancing girls in years past. Is he simply drunk? Hardly! The
speaker (probably Tu Fu himself) is remembering former glories and the
beauty of life as his own draws to a close. He knows that like the red
and white blossoms along the river once death begins to set in, the
process accelerates!
Slow down, he says! Let's talk things over, little buds! Perhaps as we
slowly sip what's left of life! |
Read all 3 comments >>
|
|
|
|
Free
Poetry E-Book:
E-mail this poem to e friend