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— Jia Dao Cane in hand, I gaze on fine snow; Cloud on cloud spreads over the creek. To snow-covered cots woodmen go; The sun sets on the frowning peak. In the wildfire bums the grass dried; Mid rocks and pines smoke and mist rise. Back to the temple by the hillside, I hear…
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— Liu Zongyuan Tired of officialdom for long, I’m glad to be banished southwest. At leisure I hear farmer’s song; Haply I look like hillside guest. At dawn I cut grass wet with dew; My boat comes o’er pebbles at night. To and fro there’s no man in view; I chant till southern sky…
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— Liu Zongyuan Over the islets disperse clouds of last night, The rising sun makes poolside village bright. A tall tree overlooks the water clear; Raindrops fall, startled by the wind severe. Unoccupied, my mind is just carefree; By chance the tree plays host to welcome me.
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— Bai Juyi Viewed from the Seaside Tower morning clouds look bright; Along the riverbank I tread on fine sand white. The General’s Temple hears roaring nocturnal tide; Spring dwells in the Beauty’s Bower green willow hide. The red sleeves weave brocade broidered with flowers fine; Blue streamers show amid pear blossoms a shop…
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— Bai Juyi West of Jia Pavilion and north of Lonely Hill, Water brims level with the bank and clouds hang low. Disputing for sunny trees, early orioles trill; Pecking vernal mud in, young swallows come and go. A riot of blooms begins to dazzle the eye; Amid short grass the horse hoofs can…
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— Han Yu The trees and grass know that soon spring will go away; Of red blooms and green leaves they make gorgeous display. But willow catkins and elm pods are so unwise, They wish to be flying snow darkening the skies.
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— Yang Juyuan The early spring presents to poets a fresh scene: The willow twigs half yellow and half tender green. When the Royal Garden’s covered with blooming flowers, Then it would be the visitors’ busiest hours.
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– Wen Tianxiang By virtue of the classics, painstakingly I rose to serve my state;Four years of war have passed, with our banners desolate.Our land, torn asunder, drifts like catkins in the gale;My life, adrift and battered, like duckweed in the rain’s assail.At Huangkong Shoal, I sighed for the fears that once prevailed;On Lingding…
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— Zhang Ji Moon sets, crows cry, frost fills the sky; Facing dim fishing boats neath maples, sad I lie. Beyond the city wall of Gusu, from Temple of Cold Hill Bells break the ship-borne roamer’s dream in midnight still.