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Answering Vice-Prefect Zhang
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As the years go by, give me but peace,
Freedom from ten thousand matters.
I ask myself and always answer:
What can be better than coming home?
A wind from the pine-trees blows my sash,
And my lute is bright with the mountain moon.
You ask me about good and evil fortune?....
Hark, on the lake there's a fisherman singing!
Wang Wei
Read poems about / on: freedom, evil, moon, peace, home, wind, tree
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User Rating: |
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7.0
/10
(1 votes) |
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| Comments about this poem (Answering Vice-Prefect Zhang by Wang Wei) |
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Stanton Hager (9/15/2006 8:58:00 AM)
A lowish vote of '7' because translation here doesn't do justice to Wang Wei's great poem. I offer one of my own:
Old now, I prefer stillness to sound:
The world's noise no longer has my ear.
Without great plans, I attend simply to Self;
Empty of knowledge, I return to familiar woods.
A pine-wind unsashes my robe;
In mountain moonlight, I play my lute.
You ask me the cause of birth and death:
A fisherman's song that sinks into coves.
trans., Stanton Hager |
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