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Descending the Zhongnan Mountains to Stay with the Hermit Husi for the Night and Feast on Wine, Li Bai
Descent at dusk down blue-green mountains—
Mountains the moon is marrying into—
Yet I look back whence came my trail:
So indistinct, dark greens are hidden.
Together we reach the fields and houses.
A houseboy opens your rough door—
In green bamboo, a hidden path,
Fresh creepers shake as clothes pass through.
With glad words fit for a place of rest
And wonderful wine, we chat and toast.
We sing for a while the “Pine Wind” song—
When done, the Starry River’s faint,
I’m drunk, and you repeatedly laugh,
Both satisfied to spurn the world.
下终南山过斛斯山人宿置酒
暮从碧山下，
山月随人归；
却顾所来径，
苍苍横翠微。
相携及田家，
童稚开荆扉；
绿竹入幽径，
青萝拂行衣。
欢言得所憩，
美酒聊共挥；
长歌吟松风，
曲尽河星稀。
我醉君复乐，
陶然共忘机。
Ghost poems are great and all, but some days, you just want to spend some time with Master Li. Zhongnan is the range to the south of Chang’an. Husi is a rare two-character surname (well, all the two-character surnames are uncommon, but this is rare even within that set). Lost in translation: they reach the fields and houses “hand in hand.” “Pine Wind” is probably the song for qin that’s usually called “Wind Through the Pines” (see also #238). The Starry River is the Milky Way, getting faint with approaching dawn.
I knew I’d run into this someday: Classical Chinese has many words for various shades of green, and Master Li worked five of the most common into this poem. Keeping them distinct while remaining graceful was, shall we say, a challenge. (He also, in two lines, uses three different words for song/sing, one of which I silently evaporated because otherwise awkward English.)
---L.
Descent at dusk down blue-green mountains—
Mountains the moon is marrying into—
Yet I look back whence came my trail:
So indistinct, dark greens are hidden.
Together we reach the fields and houses.
A houseboy opens your rough door—
In green bamboo, a hidden path,
Fresh creepers shake as clothes pass through.
With glad words fit for a place of rest
And wonderful wine, we chat and toast.
We sing for a while the “Pine Wind” song—
When done, the Starry River’s faint,
I’m drunk, and you repeatedly laugh,
Both satisfied to spurn the world.
下终南山过斛斯山人宿置酒
暮从碧山下，
山月随人归；
却顾所来径，
苍苍横翠微。
相携及田家，
童稚开荆扉；
绿竹入幽径，
青萝拂行衣。
欢言得所憩，
美酒聊共挥；
长歌吟松风，
曲尽河星稀。
我醉君复乐，
陶然共忘机。
Ghost poems are great and all, but some days, you just want to spend some time with Master Li. Zhongnan is the range to the south of Chang’an. Husi is a rare two-character surname (well, all the two-character surnames are uncommon, but this is rare even within that set). Lost in translation: they reach the fields and houses “hand in hand.” “Pine Wind” is probably the song for qin that’s usually called “Wind Through the Pines” (see also #238). The Starry River is the Milky Way, getting faint with approaching dawn.
I knew I’d run into this someday: Classical Chinese has many words for various shades of green, and Master Li worked five of the most common into this poem. Keeping them distinct while remaining graceful was, shall we say, a challenge. (He also, in two lines, uses three different words for song/sing, one of which I silently evaporated because otherwise awkward English.)
---L.