POEMS BY T'AO CH'IEN

(1)

Shady, shady the wood in front of the Hall: At midsummer full of calm shadows.

The south wind follows summer's train: With its eddying-puffs it blows open my coat.

I am free from ties and can live a life of retirement.

When I rise from sleep, I play with books and harp.

The lettuce in the garden still grows moist: Of last year's grain there is always plenty left.

Self-support should maintain strict limits: More than enough is not what I want.

I grind millet and make good wine: When the wine is heated, I pour it out for myself.

My little children are playing at my side, Learning to talk, they babble unformed sounds.

These things have made me happy again And I forget my lost cap of office.

Distant, distant I gaze at the white clouds: With a deep yearning I think of the Sages of Antiquity.

(2)

In the quiet of the morning I heard a knock at my door: I threw on my clothes and opened it myself.

I asked who it was who had come so early to see me: He said he was a peasant, coming with good intent.

He brought a present of wine and rice-soup, Believing that I had fallen on evil days.

"You live in rags under a thatched roof And seem to have no desire for a better lot.

The rest of mankind have all the same ambitions: You, too, must learn to wallow in their mire."

"Old man, I am impressed by what you say, But my soul is not fashioned like other men's.

To drive in their rut I might perhaps learn: To be untrue to myself could only lead to muddle.

Let us drink and enjoy together the wine you have brought: For my course is set and cannot now be altered."

(3)

A long time ago I went on a journey, Right to the corner Of the Eastern Ocean.

The road there Was long and winding, And stormy waves Barred my path.

What made me Go this way?

Hunger drove me Into the World.

I tried hard To fill my belly: And even a little Seemed a lot.

But this was clearly A bad bargain, So I went home And lived in idleness.

(4)

SUBSTANCE, SHADOW, AND SPIRIT

High and low, wise and simple, all busily hoard up the moments of life. How greatly they err!

Therefore I have to the uttermost exposed the bitterness both of Substance and Shadow, and have made Spirit show how, by following Nature, we may dissolve this bitterness.

_Substance speaks to Shadow_:

Heaven and Earth exist for ever: Mountains and rivers never change.

But herbs and trees in perpetual rotation Are renovated and withered by the dews and frosts: And Man the wise, Man the divine-- Shall he alone escape this law?

Fortuitously appearing for a moment in the World He suddenly departs, never to return.

How can he know that the friends he has left Are missing him and thinking of him?

Only the things that he used remain; They look upon them and their tears flow.

Me no magical arts can save, Though you may hope for a wizard's aid.

I beg you listen to this advice-- When you can get wine, be sure to drink it.

_Shadow replies_:

There is no way to preserve life.

Drugs of Immortality are instruments of folly.

I would gladly wander in Paradise, But it is far away and there is no road.

Since the day that I was joined to you We have shared all our joys and pains.

While you rested in the shade, I left you a while: But till the end we shall be together.

Our joint existence is impermanent: Sadly together we shall slip away.

That when the body decays Fame should also go Is a thought unendurable, burning the heart.

Let us strive and labour while yet we may To do some deed that men will praise.

Wine may in truth dispel our sorrow, But how compare it with lasting Fame?

_Spirit expounds_:

God can only set in motion: He cannot control the things he has made.

Man, the second of the Three Orders, Owes his precedence to Me.

Though I am different from you, We were born involved in one another: Nor by any means can we escape The intimate sharing of good and ill.

The Three Emperors were saintly men, Yet to-day--where are they?

P'eng[31] lived to a great age, Yet he went at last, when he longed to stay.

And late or soon, all go: Wise and simple have no reprieve.

Wine may bring forgetfulness, But does it not hasten old-age?

If you set your heart on noble deeds, How do you know that any will praise you?

By all this thinking you do Me injury: You had better go where Fate leads-- Drift on the Stream of Infinite Flux, Without joy, without fear: When you must go--then go, And make as little fuss as you can.

[31] The Chinese Methuselah.

(5)

Chill and harsh the year draws to its close: In my cotton dress I seek sunlight on the porch.

In the southern orchard all the leaves are gone: In the north garden rotting boughs lie heaped.

I empty my cup and drink it down to the dregs: I look towards the kitchen, but no smoke rises.

Poems and books lie piled beside my chair: But the light is going and I shall not have time to read them.

My life here is not like the Agony in Ch'en,[32]

But often I have to bear bitter reproaches.

Let me then remember, to calm my heart's distress, That the Sages of old were often in like case.

[32] Confucius was maltreated in Ch'en.

(6)

BLAMING SONS