Li Ching Chao
Tz'u No. 11
To the tune of “Lamentation” It was far into the night when, intoxicated, I took off my ornaments; The plum flower withered in my hair. Recovered from tipsiness, The lingering smell of wine Broke
Tz'u No. 7
To the tune of “Rinsing Silk Stream” Let not the deep cup be filled With rich, amber-colored wine; My mind was eased of sorrow Even before I was drunk. Distant bells have already echoed
Tz'u No. 13
To the tune of “Song of Peace” Year by year, in the snow, I have often gathered plum flowers, Intoxicated with their beauty. Fondling them impudently I got my robe wet with their lucid
Tz'u No. 5
To the tune of “Like a Dream” I always remember the sunset Over the pavilion by the river, So tipsy we could not find our way home. Our interest exhausted, the evening late, We
A Song of Departure
Warm rain and soft breeze by turns Have just broken And driven away the chill. Moist as the pussy willows, Light as the plum blossoms, Already I feel the heart of Spring vibrating. But
Autumn Love
Search. Search. Seek. Seek. Cold. Cold. Clear. Clear. Sorrow. Sorrow. Pain. Pain. Hot flashes. Sudden chills. Stabbing pains. Slow agonies. I can find no peace. I drink two cups, then three bowls, Of clear
Tz'u No. 15
To the tune of “Rinsing Silk Stream” Thousands of light flakes of crushed gold For its blossoms, Trimmed jade for its layers of leaves. This flower has the air of scholar Yen Fu. How
Tz'u No. 12
To the tune of “Happy Event Is Nigh” The wind ceases; fallen flowers pile high. Outside my screen, petals collect in heaps of red And snow-white. This reminds me that after the blooming Of
Tz'u No. 17 (He Is Gone)
To the tune of “Wu Ling Spring” Wind ceased, the dust is scented With the fallen flowers. Though day is getting late, I am too weary To attend to my hair. Things remain as
At a Poetry Party I Am Given the Rhyme Chih
Although I’ve studied poetry for thirty years I try to keep my mouth shut and avoid reputation. Now who is this nosy gentleman talking about my poetry Like Yang Ching-chih Who spoke of Hsiang
Last Night
Last Night Thin Rain, Gusty Wind. Dense Sleep Doesn’t Fade A wine Hangover. I’m talking To her Who Rolled up The curtains. Are you Blind! I Say. By now They’re Fat Green And skimpy
Tz'u No. 9 (Weary)
To the tune of “Rinsing Silk Stream” Saddened by the dying spring, I am too weary To rearrange my hair. Plum flowers, newly fallen, drift about the courtyard In the evening wind. The moon
Tz'u No. 3
To the tune “Red Lips” Tired of swinging Indolent I rise with a slender hand Put right My hair The dew thick On frail blossoms Sweat seeping through My thin robe And seeing My
Sorrow of Departure
Red lotus incense fades on The jeweled curtain. Autumn Comes again. Gently I open My silk dress and float alone On the orchid boat. Who can Take a letter beyond the clouds? Only the
To the Tune of
The fragrance of the pink lotus Fails, the jade mat hints of autumn. Softly I unfasten my silk cloak, Who is sending a letter from Among the clouds? When the swan message returns, The