Chinese
Poetry
Chinese
poetry is a lot like ours; it uses allegory, onomatopoeia,
metaphors and similes. Many times, it leaves a lot of room
for interpretation, as there is no past, present or future
tense in Chinese verbs. Many times a poem translated into
English by two different people can be two different poems,
connected only by a single strand to the underlying theme.
In translation, a poem can be embellished and ornate, or
simple and contemplative.
The
Tang dynasty, considered the Golden Age of China, has a
proliferation of ancient writings, including poetry. The
three most famous poets are Du Fu, Li Bai and Wang Wei.
Du Fu has the most variety of themes of poetry, but generally
Du Fu's poetry is serious and always deep. Li Bai 's poetry
is romantic, light and vivid. Wang Wei's poems are simple
and usually about nature. Chinese poetry is very enjoyable.
Here are some for you to enjoy.
In
Spring
by Li Bai
Your
grasses up north are as blue as jade,
Our mulberries here curve green-threaded branches;
And at last you think of returning home,
Now when my heart is almost broken....
O breeze of the spring, since I dare not know you,
Why part the silk curtains by my bed?
Fine
Apricot Lodge
by Wang Wei
Fine
apricot was cut for the roofbeam,
Fragrant cogongrass tied for the eaves.
I know not when the cloud from this house
Will go to make rain among the people.
In
Abbot Zan's Room at Dayun Temple: Four Poems (1)
by Du Fu
My
heart is in a world of water and crystal,
My clothes are damp in this time of spring rains.
Through the gates I walk on to the end,
The inner court the appointed tranquil space.
I reach the doors- they open and shut again,
Now strikes the bell- the meal time has arrived.
This cream will help one's nature strengthen and grow,
The diet gives support in my decline.
We've grasped each other's arms so many days,
And opened our hearts without shame or evasion.
Golden orioles flit across the beams,
Purple doves descend from lattice screens.
Myself, I think I've found a place that suits,
I walk by flowers at my own slow pace.
Tangxiu lifts me from my sickly state,
And smiling, asks me to write a poem.
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