Tz'u No. 15

Related poetry:

1. 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 tears. This year I have drifted to the corner Of the sea and the edge Of the horizon, My temples have […]...
2. When Night Comes To the tune of “Telling My Most Intimate Feelings” When night comes, I am so flushed with wine, I undo my hair slowly: A plum calyx is Stuck on a damaged branch. I wake dazed when smoke Breaks my spring sleep. The dream distant, So very distant; And it is quiet, so very quiet. The […]...
3. 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 my fond dream Before my dreaming soul could find My way home. All is quiet. The moon lingers, And the emerald […]...
4. Tz'u No. 1 To the tune “Courtyard Filled with Fragrance” Fragrant grass beside the pond Green shade over the hall A clear cold comes through The window curtains Crescent moon beyond the golden bars And a flute sounds As if someone were coming But alone on my mat with a cup Gazing sadly into nothingness I want to […]...
5. The Double Ninth Festival To the tune of “Intoxicated Under the Shadow of Flowers” Light mists and heavy clouds, Melancholy the long dreary day. In the golden censer The burning incense is dying away. It is again time For the lovely Double-Ninth Festival; The coolness of midnight Penetrates my screen of sheer silk And chills my pillow of jade. […]...
6. 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 looks pale and light clouds float To and fro. Incense lies idle in the jade duck-shaped burner. The cherry-red bed-curtain is […]...
7. Tz'u No. 18 To the tune of “Intoxicated in the Shadow of Flowers” Thin mist, dense clouds, a grief-stricken day; Auspicious incense burns in the gold animal. Once again, it is the joyous mid-autumn festival, But a midnight chill Touches my jade pillow and silk bed-screen. I drink wine by the eastern fence in the yellow dusk. Now […]...
8. No One So Much As You No one so much as you Loves this my clay, Or would lament as you Its dying day. You know me through and through Though I have not told, And though with what you know You are not bold. None ever was so fair As I thought you: Not a word can I bear Spoken […]...
9. Tz'u No. 10 (Exile) To the tune of “Bodhisattva Aliens” Soft breezes, mild sunshine, Spring is still young. The sudden change of the light Brightened my spirit. But upon awakening from slumber, I felt the chill air; The plum flower withered in my hair. Where can I call my native land? Forget – I cannot, except in wine When […]...
10. The Turning Unknown faces in the street And winter coming on. I Stand in the last moments of The city, no more a child, Only a man, one who has Looked upon his own nakedness Without shame, and in defeat Has seen nothing to bless. Touched once, like a plum, I turned Rotten in the meat, or […]...
11. Sea Rose Rose, harsh rose, Marred and with stint of petals, Meagre flower, thin, Sparse of leaf, More precious Than a wet rose Single on a stem You are caught in the drift. Stunted, with small leaf, You are flung on the sand, You are lifted In the crisp sand That drives in the wind. Can the […]...
12. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
13. The God Of Common-Sense My Daddy used to wallop me for every small offense: “Its takes a hair-brush back,” said he, “to teach kids common-sense.” And still to-day I scarce can look a hair-brush in the face. Without I want in sympathy to pat a tender place. For Dad declared with unction: “Spare the brush and spoil the brat.” […]...
14. Song in a Minor Key There’s a place I know where the birds swing low, And wayward vines go roaming, Where the lilacs nod, and a marble god Is pale, in scented gloaming. And at sunset there comes a lady fair Whose eyes are deep with yearning. By an old, old gate does the lady wait Her own true love’s […]...
15. On Leaving Some Friends At An Early Hour Give me a golden pen, and let me lean On heaped-up flowers, in regions clear, and far; Bring me a tablet whiter than a star, Or hand of hymning angel, when ’tis seen The silver strings of heavenly harp atween: And let there glide by many a pearly car Pink robes, and wavy hair, and […]...
16. It will be Summer eventually It will be Summer eventually. Ladies with parasols Sauntering Gentlemen with Canes And little Girls with Dolls Will tint the pallid landscape As ’twere a bright Bouquet Thro’ drifted deep, in Parian The Village lies today The Lilacs bending many a year Will sway with purple load The Bees will not despise the tune Their […]...
17. Sympathy My Muse is simple, yet it’s nice To think you don’t need to think twice On words I write. I reckon I’ve a common touch And if you say I cuss too much I answer: ‘Quite!’ I envy not the poet’s lot; He has something I haven’t got, Alas, I know. But I have something […]...
18. The Force That Through The Green Fuse Drives The Flower The force that through the green fuse drives the flower Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees Is my destroyer. And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose My youth is bent by the same wintry fever. The force that drives the water through the rocks Drives my red blood; that […]...
19. To Ellen, At The South The green grass is growing, The morning wind is in it, ‘Tis a tune worth the knowing, Though it change every minute. ‘Tis a tune of the spring, Every year plays it over, To the robin on the wing, To the pausing lover. O’er ten thousand thousand acres Goes light the nimble zephyr, The flowers, […]...
20. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
21. To hear an Oriole sing To hear an Oriole sing May be a common thing Or only a divine. It is not of the Bird Who sings the same, unheard, As unto Crowd The Fashion of the Ear Attireth that it hear In Dun, or fair So whether it be Rune, Or whether it be none Is of within. The […]...
22. Tilly He travels after a winter sun, Urging the cattle along a cold red road, Calling to them, a voice they know, He drives his beasts above Cabra. The voice tells them home is warm. They moo and make brute music with their hoofs. He drives them with a flowering branch before him, Smoke pluming their […]...
23. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
24. After the Engagement Well, Mabel, ’tis over and ended – The ball I wrote was to be; And oh! it was perfectly splendid – If you could have been here to see. I’ve a thousand things to write you That I know you are wanting to hear, And one, that is sure to delight you – I am […]...
25. Noon I bend to the ground To catch Something whispered, Urgent, drifting Across the ditches. The heaviness of Flies stuttering In orbit, dirt Ripening, the sweat Of eggs. There are Small streams The width ofa thumb Running in the villages Of sheaves, whole Eras of grain Wakening on The stalks, a roof That breathes over My […]...
26. Frolic THE CHILDREN were shouting together And racing along the sands, A glimmer of dancing shadows, A dovelike flutter of hands. The stars were shouting in heaven, The sun was chasing the moon: The game was the same as the children’s, They danced to the self-same tune. The whole of the world was merry, One joy […]...
27. Desolation I think that the bitterest sorrow or pain Of love unrequited, or cold death’s woe, Is sweet, compared to that hour when we know That some grand passion is on the wane. When we see that the glory, and glow, and grace Which lent a splendour to night and day, Are surely fading, and showing […]...
28. 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 ever, yet he is here no more, And all is finished. Fain would I speak, but tears flow first. They say […]...
29. 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 the cherry-apple tree It is time to lament the dying spring. Singing and drinking have come to an end; Jade cups […]...
30. MYSTIC LADY I search for love and find my soul With you, my love, I am whole And the mystic love that binds us Reminds me of divinity. In your heart, I find, The love that lacked in mine Your touch and your scent Open the doors to a heavenly vent With you I realize What I […]...
31. 1914 IV: The Dead These hearts were woven of human joys and cares, Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth. The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs, And sunset, and the colours of the earth. These had seen movement, and heard music; known Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended; Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat […]...
32. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
33. The Piano-Organ My student-lamp is lighted, The books and papers are spread; A sound comes floating upwards, Chasing the thoughts from my head. I open the garret window, Let the music in and the moon; See the woman grin for coppers, While the man grinds out the tune. Grind me a dirge or a requiem, Or a […]...
34. Sestina I wandered o’er the vast green plains of youth, And searched for Pleasure. On a distant height Fame’s silhouette stood sharp against the skies. Beyond vast crowds that thronged a broad highway I caught the glimmer of a golden goal, While from a blooming bower smiled siren Love. Straight gazing in her eyes, I laughed […]...
35. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
36. To the Tune Breeze soft, sun frail, spring still early. In a new lined dress my heart was refreshed, But when I rose from sleep I felt a chill. I put plum blossoms in my hair. Now they are withered. Where is my homeland? I forgot it only when drunk. The sandal wood incense burned out while I […]...
37. Badger When midnight comes a host of dogs and men Go out and track the badger to his den, And put a sack within the hole, and lie Till the old grunting badger passes by. He comes an hears – they let the strongest loose. The old fox gears the noise and drops the goose. The […]...
38. THE MUSES' SON [Goethe quotes the beginning of this song in His Autobiography, as expressing the manner in which his poetical Effusions used to pour out from him.] THROUGH field and wood to stray, And pipe my tuneful lay, ‘Tis thus my days are pass’d; And all keep tune with me, And move in harmony, And so on, […]...
39. For Meng Hao-Jan I love Master Meng. Free as a flowing breeze, He is famous Throughout the world. In rosy youth, he cast away Official cap and carriage. Now, a white-haired elder, he reclines Amid pines and cloud. Drunk beneath the moon, He often attains sagehood. Lost among the flowers, He serves no lord. How can I aspire […]...
40. Her face was in a bed of hair Her face was in a bed of hair, Like flowers in a plot Her hand was whiter than the sperm That feeds the sacred light. Her tongue more tender than the tune That totters in the leaves Who hears may be incredulous, Who witnesses, believes....