Estimating the Value of a Wife

[43]This poem is an attempt to describe the miseries of the people under compulsory military service during the long wars carried on by the Emperor Hsüen-Tsung of the Han Dynasty.

Unknown: Ancient

Once upon a time a husband, wearyOf the selfsame face before him day by day,Determined to dismiss his goodwife promptly,And take a new one—to her great dismay!Without delay the little deal was settled,—The husband on his purpose being bent,—The new wife through the front door entered grandly,The old one from a side-door sadly went.One day the old wife to her home returningFrom gathering wild flowers on the mountain side,Met with her quondam master in the valley,And, kneeling, asked him how the new one vied.'The new wife', said the husband very slowly,'Has beauty that is equal to your own,But still her hands are not so deft and useful,Nor can she compass so much work alone.'The new wife's hands are very skilled in weavingEmbroidered satins with her dainty touch;The old wife's fingers, faster and unwearied,Of useful fabrics weave five times as much.'So when I reckon up the charms and usesOf goodwives, number One and number Two,There's little room within my mind for doubting,I had the better bargain when I'd you.'

Once upon a time a husband, wearyOf the selfsame face before him day by day,Determined to dismiss his goodwife promptly,And take a new one—to her great dismay!

Without delay the little deal was settled,—The husband on his purpose being bent,—The new wife through the front door entered grandly,The old one from a side-door sadly went.

One day the old wife to her home returningFrom gathering wild flowers on the mountain side,Met with her quondam master in the valley,And, kneeling, asked him how the new one vied.

'The new wife', said the husband very slowly,'Has beauty that is equal to your own,But still her hands are not so deft and useful,Nor can she compass so much work alone.

'The new wife's hands are very skilled in weavingEmbroidered satins with her dainty touch;The old wife's fingers, faster and unwearied,Of useful fabrics weave five times as much.

'So when I reckon up the charms and usesOf goodwives, number One and number Two,There's little room within my mind for doubting,I had the better bargain when I'd you.'

Han Dynasty, or earlier

On a bright and sunny morning,From her mother's house there came,One who needed no adorning,—Lo-Fu was the lady's name.On her arm a basket swinging,Made of silk her own hand weaves,Forth she wanders blithely singing,Bent on gathering mulberry leaves.From her head in graceful tressesFalls the fine and lustrous hair,While each shapely ear caressesJust one pearl of beauty rare.Purple bodice, broidered quaintly,Silken skirt with amber lace,Gave the touch demure and saintlyTo her sweetly winsome face.Travellers dropped the loads they carried,And in wonder stroked their chin;Young men, whether free or married,Doffed their hats a glance to win.Farmers stay their hand in ploughing,Peasants stand as in a dream,Now and then the trees allowingOf the girl a passing gleam.On this morn an Envoy passing,From a mission to the sea,Where much wealth he'd been amassing,Saw Lo-Fu beneath a tree.For her silkworms food providing,Work she did with greatest zest;All her friends around residingOwned her silk was of the best.Near the tree the Envoy stoppingWith his escort in array,Soldiers boughs of mulberries loppingHelped to make a fine display.From his retinue emergingCame the Envoy's trusty man,Who his master's message urging,Gently asked her name and clan.'Lo-Fu,' came the answer proudly,'Of the ancient house of T'sin!'Adding, too, a little loudly,'And my age is seventeen.''Will you join me?' asked the Envoy,'Sharing all my wealth and power,All the treasures of this convoyWould not far exceed your dower!''You have a wife,' she answered coldly,'And most foolish are, I fear;I,' she added firm and boldly,'Also have a husband dear.'And my husband is the leaderOf a thousand horsemen brave,Midst whom not one base secederWould another captain crave!'On his charger, white and fiery,'Mongst the troop he's first espied,Soldier-like, erect and wiry,With his keen sword by his side.'When but fifteen he enlistedWithout patronage or fame,And at twenty, unassisted,Officer at Court became.'Then at thirty, unexpected,Captain in the Royal Clan;Now at forty he's selectedChief commandant of Ch'ang-an.'Gallant, but of gentle bearing,When the battle's fought and won,For the praise of men less caringThan the meed for duty done.'Yes, a clear-eyed, clean-souled heroIs the man I'm praising now,And your value sinks to zeroWhen compared with his, I vow.'True, a lowly work I'm doing,And the silk we use I spin,But remember you are wooingLo-Fu of the House of T'sin.'[44]

On a bright and sunny morning,From her mother's house there came,One who needed no adorning,—Lo-Fu was the lady's name.

On her arm a basket swinging,Made of silk her own hand weaves,Forth she wanders blithely singing,Bent on gathering mulberry leaves.

From her head in graceful tressesFalls the fine and lustrous hair,While each shapely ear caressesJust one pearl of beauty rare.

Purple bodice, broidered quaintly,Silken skirt with amber lace,Gave the touch demure and saintlyTo her sweetly winsome face.

Travellers dropped the loads they carried,And in wonder stroked their chin;Young men, whether free or married,Doffed their hats a glance to win.

Farmers stay their hand in ploughing,Peasants stand as in a dream,Now and then the trees allowingOf the girl a passing gleam.

On this morn an Envoy passing,From a mission to the sea,Where much wealth he'd been amassing,Saw Lo-Fu beneath a tree.

For her silkworms food providing,Work she did with greatest zest;All her friends around residingOwned her silk was of the best.

Near the tree the Envoy stoppingWith his escort in array,Soldiers boughs of mulberries loppingHelped to make a fine display.

From his retinue emergingCame the Envoy's trusty man,Who his master's message urging,Gently asked her name and clan.

'Lo-Fu,' came the answer proudly,'Of the ancient house of T'sin!'Adding, too, a little loudly,'And my age is seventeen.'

'Will you join me?' asked the Envoy,'Sharing all my wealth and power,All the treasures of this convoyWould not far exceed your dower!'

'You have a wife,' she answered coldly,'And most foolish are, I fear;I,' she added firm and boldly,'Also have a husband dear.

'And my husband is the leaderOf a thousand horsemen brave,Midst whom not one base secederWould another captain crave!

'On his charger, white and fiery,'Mongst the troop he's first espied,Soldier-like, erect and wiry,With his keen sword by his side.

'When but fifteen he enlistedWithout patronage or fame,And at twenty, unassisted,Officer at Court became.

'Then at thirty, unexpected,Captain in the Royal Clan;Now at forty he's selectedChief commandant of Ch'ang-an.

'Gallant, but of gentle bearing,When the battle's fought and won,For the praise of men less caringThan the meed for duty done.

'Yes, a clear-eyed, clean-souled heroIs the man I'm praising now,And your value sinks to zeroWhen compared with his, I vow.

'True, a lowly work I'm doing,And the silk we use I spin,But remember you are wooingLo-Fu of the House of T'sin.'[44]

[44]The ancient State of T'sin, which finally embraced the whole of Shen-si and Kansuh. In 221b.c.this State under Shi Hwang Ti subdued all China, and thereafter the ruling sovereigns are known as the T'sin Dynasty.

BY LI YI

The Summer's gone, but summer heat remains,And sleepless nights still leave us all repining;So to the garden I have moved my couch,And on it I am peacefully reclining.The white clouds spread themselves across the sky,And through the rifts the moon's soft light is fallingOn dewy grass and flowers and trees around,While from the towers night birds are faintly calling.The gentle rustling of the tall bamboosIn subtle symphony of tone is blendingWith the waters of the fountain and the brook,Which flow and murmur on their ways unending.While through the gauzy garments which I wearThe cooling evening breeze is gently blowing,My feeling of contentment is more deepThan when I'm where the ruby wine is flowing.

The Summer's gone, but summer heat remains,And sleepless nights still leave us all repining;So to the garden I have moved my couch,And on it I am peacefully reclining.

The white clouds spread themselves across the sky,And through the rifts the moon's soft light is fallingOn dewy grass and flowers and trees around,While from the towers night birds are faintly calling.

The gentle rustling of the tall bamboosIn subtle symphony of tone is blendingWith the waters of the fountain and the brook,Which flow and murmur on their ways unending.

While through the gauzy garments which I wearThe cooling evening breeze is gently blowing,My feeling of contentment is more deepThan when I'm where the ruby wine is flowing.

Muh-Lan's swift fingers flying to and froCrossed warp with woof in deft and even row,As by the side of spinning-wheel and loomShe sat at work without the women's room.[46]But tho' her hand the shuttle swiftly pliesThe whir cannot be heard for Muh-Lan's sighs;When neighbours asked what ills such mood had wrought,And why she worked in all-absorbing thought;She answered not, for in her ears did ringThe summons of last evening from the King,Calling to arms more warriors for the west,The name of Muh-Lan's father heading all the rest.But he was ill—no son to take his place,Excuses meant suspicion and disgrace;Her father's honour must not be in doubt;Nor friend, nor foe, his stainless name shall flout;She would herself his duty undertakeAnd fight the Northern foe for honour's sake.Her purpose fixed, the plan was soon evolved,But none should know it, this she was resolved;Alone, unknown, she would the danger face,Relying on the prowess of her race.A charger here, a saddle there, she bought,And next a bridle and a whip she sought;With these equipped she donned the soldier's gear,Arming herself with bow and glittering spear.And then before the sun began his journey steepShe kissed her parents in their troubled sleep,Caressing them with fingers soft and light,She quietly passed from their unconscious sight;And mounting horse she with her comrades rodeInto the night to meet what fate forbode;And as her secret not a comrade knew,Her fears soon vanished as the morning dew.That day they galloped westward fast and far,Nor paused until they saw the evening star;Then by the Yellow River's rushing floodThey stopped to rest and cool their fevered blood.The turbid stream swept on with swirl and foamDispelling Muh-Lan's dreams of friends and home;Muh-Lan! Muh-Lan! she heard her mother cry—The waters roared and thundered in reply!Muh-Lan! Muh-Lan! she heard her father sigh—The river surged in angry billows by!The second night they reach the River Black,And on the range which feeds it, bivouac;Muh-Lan! Muh-Lan! she hears her father pray—While on the ridge the Tartars' horses neigh;Muh-Lan! Muh-Lan! her mother's lips let fall!The Tartars' camp sends forth a bugle call!The morning dawns on men in armed arrayAware that death may meet them on that day;The Winter sun sends forth a pallid lightThrough frosty air on knights in armour bright;While bows strung tight, and spears in glittering rows,Forebode the struggle of contending foes.And soon the trumpets blare—the fight's begun;A deadlymêlée—and the Pass is won!The war went on, and many a battle-fieldRevealed Muh-Lan both bow and spear could wield;Her skill and courage won her widespread fame,And comrades praised, and leaders of great name.Then after several years of march and strife,Muh-Lan and others, who had 'scaped with lifeFrom fields of victory drenched with patriots' blood,Returned again to see the land they loved.And when at last the Capital[47]was reached,The warriors, who so many forts had breached,Were summoned to the presence of the King,And courtiers many did their praises sing;Money and presents on them, too, were showered,And some with rank and office were empowered;While Muh-Lan, singled out from all the rest,Was offered fief and guerdon of the best.But gifts and honours she would gladly loseIf she might only be allowed to chooseSome courier camels, strong and fleet of pace,To bear her swiftly to her native place.And now, at last, the journey nears the end,And father's, mother's voices quickly blendIn—'Muh-Lan, Muh-Lan! welcome, welcome, dear!'And this time there was naught but joy to fear.Her younger sisters decked the house with flowers,And loving words fell sweet as summer showers;Her little brother shouted Muh-Lan's praise,For many proud and happy boastful days!The greetings o'er, she slipped into her room—Radiant with country flowers in fragrant bloom—And changed her soldier's garb for woman's dress:Her head adorned with simple maiden's tress—A single flower enriched her lustrous hair—And forth she came, fresh, maidenly, and fair!Some comrades in the war had now come in,Who durst not mingle in the happy din;But there in awe and admiration stood,As brave men do before true womanhood;For not the boldest there had ever dreamed,On toilsome march, or when swords flashed and gleamedIn marshalled battle, or on sudden raid,That their brave comrade was a beauteous maid.

And now, at last, the journey nears the end,And father's, mother's voices quickly blendIn—'Muh-Lan, Muh-Lan! welcome, welcome, dear!'And this time there was naught but joy to fear.Her younger sisters decked the house with flowers,And loving words fell sweet as summer showers;Her little brother shouted Muh-Lan's praise,For many proud and happy boastful days!The greetings o'er, she slipped into her room—Radiant with country flowers in fragrant bloom—And changed her soldier's garb for woman's dress:Her head adorned with simple maiden's tress—A single flower enriched her lustrous hair—And forth she came, fresh, maidenly, and fair!Some comrades in the war had now come in,Who durst not mingle in the happy din;But there in awe and admiration stood,As brave men do before true womanhood;For not the boldest there had ever dreamed,On toilsome march, or when swords flashed and gleamedIn marshalled battle, or on sudden raid,That their brave comrade was a beauteous maid.

[45]Muh-Lan was a famous heroine of the Liang Dynasty (a.d.502-556) who, when her father was summoned to serve as a soldier in the wars on the north-western frontier, and was unable to obey the order on account of sickness, put on a soldier's dress and took his place in the army for several years. She fought in many battles, winning great praise for her bravery, and ever since she has been regarded as the ideal of daughterly devotion and feminine courage.

[46]In the porch of the women's apartment.

[47]The capital of China at that time was Chang-an, now Si-an-Fu the provincial capital of Shen-si.

BY LUH FANG-WEN

T'ang Dynasty

While wandering up the river-side aloneTo view the landscape of my new-found home,Away from cities and the haunts of menWhere I midst nature's scenes can quietly roam,I came upon a fisher's lonely hutEnsconced within a winding of the stream,And in a boat the fisherman himself;While on his sail the sunlight sent a gleam.Across the river stands a stately mountainWhich wandering artists oft have tried to paint,But none could seize the subtle blend of colours—Of purple blues and rose-dawn flushes faint.Alas! the fisherman through summers many,Has gazed upon the glory of this scene,And yet his mind's unwakened to its beauty,His hand unskilled to limn its tints and sheen.And my hand, too, alas! has lost its cunningAnd cannot serve my brain as in my youth,So men will lose another glorious pictureOf Nature with her beauty and her truth.

While wandering up the river-side aloneTo view the landscape of my new-found home,Away from cities and the haunts of menWhere I midst nature's scenes can quietly roam,

I came upon a fisher's lonely hutEnsconced within a winding of the stream,And in a boat the fisherman himself;While on his sail the sunlight sent a gleam.

Across the river stands a stately mountainWhich wandering artists oft have tried to paint,But none could seize the subtle blend of colours—Of purple blues and rose-dawn flushes faint.

Alas! the fisherman through summers many,Has gazed upon the glory of this scene,And yet his mind's unwakened to its beauty,His hand unskilled to limn its tints and sheen.

And my hand, too, alas! has lost its cunningAnd cannot serve my brain as in my youth,So men will lose another glorious pictureOf Nature with her beauty and her truth.

BY LIU TSONG-YUEN

T'ang Dynasty (Ancient Style)

The midnight hours were passingAnd sleep still past me flew;My mind—so keenly working—Could hear the dropping dew.So from my bed arisingI open wide the door—The western park revealing,And hills that heavenward soar.Across the Eastern rangesThe clear moon coldly shinesOn bamboos, loosely scattered,And trailing mountain vines.And so intense the stillness,That from the distant hillsI hear the pigeons cooing,And murmuring streams and rills.For hours I have been thinking,As in a silent dream,And now beyond the mountainsI see the dawn's first gleam.

The midnight hours were passingAnd sleep still past me flew;My mind—so keenly working—Could hear the dropping dew.

So from my bed arisingI open wide the door—The western park revealing,And hills that heavenward soar.

Across the Eastern rangesThe clear moon coldly shinesOn bamboos, loosely scattered,And trailing mountain vines.

And so intense the stillness,That from the distant hillsI hear the pigeons cooing,And murmuring streams and rills.

For hours I have been thinking,As in a silent dream,And now beyond the mountainsI see the dawn's first gleam.

Poet's name unknown: Han Dynasty or earlier(206b.c.-220a.d.)

We sought the city by the Eastern gate,Our chariot moving at a leisured rate,Along the road on which the sunlight weavesThe trembling of the willow's rustling leaves.And far away are pine-trees towering high,Beneath whose shade the graves of heroes lie;In Hades now their last long sleep they take,From which a mortal never more shall wake.How vast the gulf between the quick and dead!Yet as the morning dew our life is sped;The rocks and hills enduring strength retain,But mortals pass in fast and endless train.Alas! the sages are inert to traceBeyond the grave the future of our race;Alchemic nostrums, too, are used in vain,They cannot turn life's ills to endless gain.Then let us drain the goblet while we live,And take the best the fleeting hour can give.In life a little pleasure may be won,To-morrow we must die and there'll be none.

We sought the city by the Eastern gate,Our chariot moving at a leisured rate,Along the road on which the sunlight weavesThe trembling of the willow's rustling leaves.

And far away are pine-trees towering high,Beneath whose shade the graves of heroes lie;In Hades now their last long sleep they take,From which a mortal never more shall wake.

How vast the gulf between the quick and dead!Yet as the morning dew our life is sped;The rocks and hills enduring strength retain,But mortals pass in fast and endless train.

Alas! the sages are inert to traceBeyond the grave the future of our race;Alchemic nostrums, too, are used in vain,They cannot turn life's ills to endless gain.

Then let us drain the goblet while we live,And take the best the fleeting hour can give.In life a little pleasure may be won,To-morrow we must die and there'll be none.

BY WANG CHANG-LING

In a dress of gauzy fabricOf the 'Lien' leaf's emerald hueSo-fei glides amongst the liliesSprinkled with the morning dew.Rose-hued are the lotus-blossoms,Rose-hued, too, the maiden's cheeks;Is it So-fei's form I follow,Or the flowers she seeks?Now I hear a song arisingFrom the lotus bowers,Which distinguishes the maidenFrom her sister flowers.

In a dress of gauzy fabricOf the 'Lien' leaf's emerald hueSo-fei glides amongst the liliesSprinkled with the morning dew.

Rose-hued are the lotus-blossoms,Rose-hued, too, the maiden's cheeks;Is it So-fei's form I follow,Or the flowers she seeks?

Now I hear a song arisingFrom the lotus bowers,Which distinguishes the maidenFrom her sister flowers.

BY LI TAI-PEH

Far up the Song-Yang's sacred mountain,Unrestrained by lock or bridge,Plows a pure and peaceful streamlet'Neath the 'Gem-Maid's' grassy ridge.There at eve midst pine-trees sombreLooms the large and lustrous moon;And within my ancient dwellingYou I hope to welcome soon.Yes, my friend, I'll come to see youAt the closing of the year,In your home among the mountains,Where you live without a fear.Deep in searching for the Chang-pu,With its bloom-flushed purple flower,Which endows the happy finderWith immortal life and power.Ere I come you may have found it,And to realms where genii dwellWinged your flight upon the dragon,Bidding to our earth farewell.

Far up the Song-Yang's sacred mountain,Unrestrained by lock or bridge,Plows a pure and peaceful streamlet'Neath the 'Gem-Maid's' grassy ridge.

There at eve midst pine-trees sombreLooms the large and lustrous moon;And within my ancient dwellingYou I hope to welcome soon.

Yes, my friend, I'll come to see youAt the closing of the year,In your home among the mountains,Where you live without a fear.

Deep in searching for the Chang-pu,With its bloom-flushed purple flower,Which endows the happy finderWith immortal life and power.

Ere I come you may have found it,And to realms where genii dwellWinged your flight upon the dragon,Bidding to our earth farewell.

[48]Poems similar to this one are frequently written by literary men in China when bidding farewell to a friend.

BY TU FU

In ancient times the flags of Wu[49]Made gay the Khwun-ming Lake,[50]On which his ships in mimic strifeThe decks of foemen rake.But now deserted is the scene,And in the moon's pale light,The Spinning-Maid[51]upon the shoreSits silent in the night.The Autumn breezes seem to moveThe mammoth stony whales,[52]And send a tremor through their framesVibrating all their scales.The Ku-mi[53]seeds float on the waste,As clouds of sombre hue;The lotus-flowers are crushed beneathThe weight of frozen dew.While from the cloud-capped Pass[54]above,The eagle's eye aglow,Sees but an aged fishermanMidst lakes and streams below.

In ancient times the flags of Wu[49]Made gay the Khwun-ming Lake,[50]On which his ships in mimic strifeThe decks of foemen rake.

But now deserted is the scene,And in the moon's pale light,The Spinning-Maid[51]upon the shoreSits silent in the night.

The Autumn breezes seem to moveThe mammoth stony whales,[52]And send a tremor through their framesVibrating all their scales.

The Ku-mi[53]seeds float on the waste,As clouds of sombre hue;The lotus-flowers are crushed beneathThe weight of frozen dew.

While from the cloud-capped Pass[54]above,The eagle's eye aglow,Sees but an aged fishermanMidst lakes and streams below.

[49]The Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty ascended the throne 140b.c.

[50]A lake probably situated to the south-west of Chang-an, the capital of China in the Han Dynasty. This city is now the provincial capital of Shen-si and better known as Si-an.

[51]A stone image of the Spinning-Maid stood on one shore of the lake, and another of the Cowherd on the opposite shore.

[52]A stone image of an immense fish covered with finely carved scales was also placed by the side of the lake.

[53]A kind of rice.

[54]Probably the celebrated 'Tung' Pass near Chang-an.

The whole poem has a political signification implying that revolution had turned the country into a wilderness, and desolation taken the place of former prosperity and greatness.

BY CHANG KIU-LING

The foliage of the lilies in the SpringIn glowing freshness shows its vernal birth;While in the Autumn cassia-blossoms brightRenew the beauty of the fading earth.In seasons such as these our hearts rejoice,And deeper thoughts arise within the mind,As Nature woos us in a tender mood,And teaches lessons that are true and kind.Who would not be as grass and flowers and trees,That denizen the forest and the hill,And listening to the music of the winds,With sympathy and mutual gladness thrill!For flowers have natures teaching them to liveIn sweet content in glen, or glade, or field;By plucking them fair women cannot addAught to the happiness their own lives yield.

The foliage of the lilies in the SpringIn glowing freshness shows its vernal birth;While in the Autumn cassia-blossoms brightRenew the beauty of the fading earth.

In seasons such as these our hearts rejoice,And deeper thoughts arise within the mind,As Nature woos us in a tender mood,And teaches lessons that are true and kind.

Who would not be as grass and flowers and trees,That denizen the forest and the hill,And listening to the music of the winds,With sympathy and mutual gladness thrill!

For flowers have natures teaching them to liveIn sweet content in glen, or glade, or field;By plucking them fair women cannot addAught to the happiness their own lives yield.

These four stanzas are but a section of a long poem. In this allegory the poet reveals his own distaste for official life and his love of Nature. Beautiful women cannot add to the happiness of the flowers by plucking them, &c., implies that the Emperor cannot increase the happiness of the poet by appointing him to high official posts, and inviting him to the Court.

BY CHANG-KIU-LING

T'ang Dynasty(a.d.618-905)

I'm but a sea-bird, wandering here alone,And dare not call the ponds and lakes my own;But what are those two lovely birds on high,Shining resplendent 'gainst the morning sky?Upon the top bough of the San-Chu[56]tree,Presumptuously they build that all may see;Their feathers than the iris lovelier far,What if a missile should their beauty mar!Such brilliant robes, which they with joy expose,Might well excite the envy of their foes;And even the gods may view with dire disdainThe high ambition of the proud and vain.Now I in quiet obscurity can roamFar from my nest, flecked by the ocean's foam;Yet, in a world where greed is always rife,No one would raise a hand to take my life.

I'm but a sea-bird, wandering here alone,And dare not call the ponds and lakes my own;But what are those two lovely birds on high,Shining resplendent 'gainst the morning sky?

Upon the top bough of the San-Chu[56]tree,Presumptuously they build that all may see;Their feathers than the iris lovelier far,What if a missile should their beauty mar!

Such brilliant robes, which they with joy expose,Might well excite the envy of their foes;And even the gods may view with dire disdainThe high ambition of the proud and vain.

Now I in quiet obscurity can roamFar from my nest, flecked by the ocean's foam;Yet, in a world where greed is always rife,No one would raise a hand to take my life.

[55]This translation is only a portion of a long poem.

[56]A mythical tree of the genii; but in the poem it may mean a very conspicuous tree.

BY CHANG-HSÜEN

T'sing Dynasty

While the master was wrapped in slumber the fishing-boat slipped its stake,And drifted, and swirled, and drifted far over the broadening lake,Till islets, and mainland, and forests came into view once more,While the fisherman gazed and pondered the lay of the new-found shore.But erelong he espied an opening, shown by the broken wave,And in venturous mood he steered his boat into a narrow cave,Where an azure mist obscured the scenes through channels long and low,As the current bore him gently into a world of long ago.In this old, flower-bestrewèd land, at first no path the eye could tell,For on the streams and on the banks the red rain of peach flowers fell;Yet from the purple-shadowed mountains which screened this favoured landFlowed forth the Peach-Fount river along its bed of silver sand;But, winding with the stream, the thickset peach-tree groves with red-veined flowersHid the cooling waters flowing in and out the shady bowers.And here and there along the banks, set in nooks of calm repose,Were cottage homes of rustic work from which the wreathed blue smoke arose;Showing that in this happy valley beyond the world's dull roar,Life went on as sweet and simple as in the golden days of yore,And the people of this valley in their ancient garments cladWere courteous in their manners and rejoiced in all they had;While the dogs and fowls beside them harmonized with all at hand,And the mulberry-tree and flax-plant hid the former barren land.When the dwellers in this favoured region saw the stranger guest,They set before him food and wine and kindly bade him rest;And when true courtesy allowed they asked of the things and menIn the world of sin and sorrow far beyond their quiet life's ken.And when the time to leave them came, and the stranger could not stay,They led him through the cavern's channels and saw him sail away.In after life the fisherman often tried again, but failedTo find the opening to the Valley through which he once had sailed;But when the sand of life through the glass its course had nearly run,He thought he saw the way lay to it beyond the westering sun.

[57]There are many versions of this legend both in poetry and prose. The introductory and closing lines of the translation are partly based on other versions of the story than that in the poem translated.This poem and 'The Fishermen's Song', and 'The Students' Ramble', are taken from 'A Selection of Poems' written by successful graduates at the Government Examinations during the present dynasty.Many of these prize poems are cleverly and beautifully written, and they reveal considerable poetic talent, but not the power and genius found in the work of ancient Chinese poets.

This poem and 'The Fishermen's Song', and 'The Students' Ramble', are taken from 'A Selection of Poems' written by successful graduates at the Government Examinations during the present dynasty.

Many of these prize poems are cleverly and beautifully written, and they reveal considerable poetic talent, but not the power and genius found in the work of ancient Chinese poets.

BY TAO TSIEN

T'sin Dynasty(a.d.265-419)

I am wrinkled and gray,And old before my day;For on five sons I look,And not one loves a book.Ah-Shu is sixteen years,The sight of work he fears;He is the laziest loutYou'd find the world throughout.Ah-süen has tried in vainA little wit to gain;He shirks the student's stool,At grammar he's a fool!Yong-twan is thirteen now,And yet I do avowHe can't discriminateThe figures six and eight![58]Tong-tze is only nine,But clearly does opineThat life, with all its cares,Consists of nuts and pears.Alas, that Fate so dourOn me her vials should pour!What can I do but dine,And drown my woes in wine!

I am wrinkled and gray,And old before my day;For on five sons I look,And not one loves a book.

Ah-Shu is sixteen years,The sight of work he fears;He is the laziest loutYou'd find the world throughout.

Ah-süen has tried in vainA little wit to gain;He shirks the student's stool,At grammar he's a fool!

Yong-twan is thirteen now,And yet I do avowHe can't discriminateThe figures six and eight![58]

Tong-tze is only nine,But clearly does opineThat life, with all its cares,Consists of nuts and pears.

Alas, that Fate so dourOn me her vials should pour!What can I do but dine,And drown my woes in wine!

[58]Implies that he is a thorough dunce.

BY A POET OF THE HAN DYNASTY

Name unknown[59](206 b.c. to a.d. 220)

The journey back has now begun,The Chariot winds along the road—The road which seems for aye to runTo me with my sad load!How vast the wilderness around,As o'er the endless track we pass;The only moving thing and sound—The east wind through the grass!The things I see are not the old,As mile on mile the way is won,And quick as these things change are toldOur years—and age comes on.By nature's law each cycle bringsA time to flourish and decay,And, with her perishable things,We, too, must pass away.No power have we with time to brave,As iron and stone, the grave's stern claim,One treasure only can we save—An everlasting fame.

The journey back has now begun,The Chariot winds along the road—The road which seems for aye to runTo me with my sad load!

How vast the wilderness around,As o'er the endless track we pass;The only moving thing and sound—The east wind through the grass!

The things I see are not the old,As mile on mile the way is won,And quick as these things change are toldOur years—and age comes on.

By nature's law each cycle bringsA time to flourish and decay,And, with her perishable things,We, too, must pass away.

No power have we with time to brave,As iron and stone, the grave's stern claim,One treasure only can we save—An everlasting fame.

[59]The poet's name is unknown, but he (or she?) lived during the Han Dynasty (206b.c.toa.d.220), or earlier.

BY SIN YEN-NIEN

Han Dynasty (206 b.c. to a.d. 220)

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