by Wang Wei (701-761)
translated by Steve Walker
A view from my own Wang River: a willow trailing in the Ariège at Tarascon. |
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This series of 20 poems is Wang Wei's central work, containing some of his most famous poems. It was written in a time when no one yet spoke the English language. My new translation is very different from any that have been made before. It contains many small discoveries, especially regarding the trees and plants whose behaviour is often the key to understanding and picturing the poem in which they appear. So much has happened, so much written, since Wang Wei last looked upon his Wang River Country, but this sequence remains one of the key texts in world literature. Each poem is a picture of somewhere along the Wang River in central China, on the poet's own estate, an album of a kind, as he evaluates its qualities and thinks about changes to be made. As he looks and wanders, paintbox in hand, we can walk at his side, hearing here his true voice speaking into our time. |
1. The Rebuilt House Under The Meng Cliffs
I have rebuilt my house by the break in the cliffs.
But the old willows around are sickening or dead.
A new owner will walk here one day.
I feel his narrow sympathies with us in this past.
2. On Huazi Ridge
Birds will keep on flying to infinity!
The mountains merge into one miserable leaf colour!
I walk the ups and downs of Huazi Ridge.
Misery will never stop until I end
3. The Deer Park
No soul walks the hill country.
But voices are everywhere.
Light shines through the dense forest.
Same light on its ring of moss.
4. The Little Apricot-Wood House
Her framework is of apricot heartwood.
Her thatch is tight sheaves of sweet bloodgrass.
Is she perhaps a machine for making clouds?
Do they sail far from her rafters to rain on her chosen people?
5. On Bamboo Mountain
Upon the empty pool where the river bends
The reflection of tall bamboo covers green ripples.
To walk the mountain path is an act of concealment.
Woodcutters can not name shadows crossing their dust.
6. The Pavilion On The Lake Island
Upon the empty pool where the river bends
The reflection of tall bamboo covers green ripples.
To walk the mountain path is an act of concealment.
Woodcutters can not name shadows crossing their dust.
7. Waving Willows
On the riverbanks they planted rows of willow trees
These are now reflected in advancing glassy ripples.
Dont compare them with sad willows by grim moats.
These strands waving in the breeze are for easier farewells.
8. Magnolia Parkland
The last of the autumn light is on the hills.
A bird follows its mate over the darkening sky.
Green swathes and touches are suddenly dominant.
Mists ride the twilight to nowhere in particular.
9. The Dogwood Grove
Loads of berries hang red but some stay green.
The trees look like they are flowering again, blooms and buds.
If a lazy guest stands high on the hill
Carry up to him a cup full of red dogberries.
10. The Shady Path
The thin path under the pagoda trees never sees sunshine.
Green moss grows thick, advancing at its sides.
Sweeping the walk to the gate is the best of pointless occupations.
One day perhaps a monk will appear to bless such shade.
11. South Shore, North Shore
In my flimsy boat I leave the south shore.
To reach the north shore is impossibly hard.
Across the flat expanse I try to pick out my old home.
Closer, I see people I no longer recognize.
12. A Retreat In A Bamboo Grove
Deeply hidden in bamboo.
Plucking my lute to its swish.
No one can hear to find me.
The moon in stripes plays along.
13. The White Stones Beaches
A sharp spill flows a smooth rush over white stones.
Aging teams of reeds wave to their opposites.
Each side's folk comes their own way to their own beach.
They wash their bright silks: surface flutter over little moons.
14. The Stand Of Lacquer Trees
No fool, not proud, the old relic.
Good for it but he never sought promotion.
After so long he keeps this same nothing post.
Commandant of a few insolent trees.
15. In Northern Hills
The river snakes north of the lake country.
Alongside, in the tanglewood, a long red rail zigzags.
Look back south and the two twist in yet tighter woods.
In and out of sight they go: see one, see two.
16. Views From Lonely Lake Yi
Our flute playing trembles the lake as we cross.
Then a silence of farewells on the far shore.
I look back at the lake over my shoulder.
Single clouds race into the hard blue mountains.
17. Hibiscus Landscape
Hibiscus flowers float their move to fall.
The bright red pods shine below the mountain ridges.
The house by the stream is abandoned.
The gesture of blooms falling encircles stillness.
18. Those Rapids By The Luans' Place
Autumn rain flies lashing in beating gusts: whooooo-whaaaaaa!
The dainty rapids try to maintain their gentle splish-splosh.
But thin waves grow fat, jump to smash into each other.
A egret rises on its splash-spooked wings to float back down.
19. Invocation In A Pepper Garden
Flavour the peachy wine with osmanthus flowers.
Rip the mauve mallow blooms to scatter the way.
Shake tangy pepper sauce onto a mat spread with jewels.
All this will bring down the Lord of the Clouds to enjoy.
20. At The Gold Dust Spring
If with head down you drink daily from the yellow spring
Its load of spinning gold dust will bestow on you a golden life.
After a thousand long years stripy dragons will at last appear
To carry you in a Heavenly chariot to meet the Jade Emperor.