poems

  • White Lotus [Tang Poems]

    — Lu Guimeng White lotus blooms are often outweighed by red flowers; They’d rather be transplanted before lunar bowers. Heartless they seem, but they have deep grief no one knows. See them fall in moonlight when the morning wind blows.

  • To the Chrisanthemum [Tang Poems]

    — Huang Chao In soughing western wind you blossom far and nigh; Your fragrance is too cold to invite butterfly. Some day if I as Lord of Spring come into power, I’d order you to bloom together with peach flower.

  • The Chrysanthemum [Tang Poems]

    — Huang Chao When autumn comes, the Mountain-climbing Day is nigh; My flower blows when other blooms come to an end. In battle array its fragrance rises sky-high, The capital with its golden armor will blend.

  • To the Cloud [Tang Poems]

    — Lai Hu You have a thousand shapes in flakes or piles in vain; Hidden in mountains or on water you remain. The drought is so severe that all seedlings would die. Why won’t you come down but leisurely tower high?

  • To the Cuckoo [Tang Poems]

    — Wu Rong You see your splendor gone with the wind disappear; You waft with resplendent feather from year to year. Your tears have dyed the flowers red in alien hill; But when spring comes to your garden, grass looks green still. Among the leaves, trees dark in rain long you stay; At moonset…

  • To the Chrysanthemum [Tang Poems]

    — Zheng Gu Do not compare your leaves with tumbleweed in hue! On Mountain-climbing Day our head’s adorned with you. When poolside shores are sweet with your blooms wet with dew, None envy pine-like plants high on the eaves in view.

  • To the Partridges [Tang Poems]

    — Zheng Gu Over warm misty grassland wing to wing you fly. As fair and good as pheasants in the mountain high. When Grass-green Lake is darkened in rain, you pass by; When flowers fall on the Imperial Tomb, you cry. A roamer would wet his sleeves with tears on heating your song; His…

  • To the Crabapple Flower [Tang Poems]

    — Zheng Gu The vernal breeze has brightened your color so fine; You stir my mind to write a verse before good wine. With rain impearled on you, more beautiful you grow; You’re all the more bewitching when about to blow. The fair forgets to powder her face before you; The painter hesitates to…

  • The Young Pine [Tang Poems]

    — Du Xunhe While young, the pine tree thrusts its head amid tall grass; Now by and by we find it outgrow weed in mass. People don’t realize it will grow to scrape the sky; Seeing it tower in cloud, then they know it’s high.