Willis Barnstone, Tony Barnstone & Xu Haixin.

Red berries So the characters used to render simple and direct lyrical utterances of the illiterate peasant folk often honor them with carefully chosen written vocabulary: the heart and soul of folk art remains clearly present, but literary subtleties are introduced. He was one of the most famous men of arts and letters of his time. knowing a mountain monk may stop by. Upon secluded shadows, much moss.

You ask about Whole-South Mountain: mind knows far beyond white clouds. I hope you will gather as many as you can; these, above all, will help you think of me.

Waves dance and fall on each other: Grainy apricot cut into beams. Let pine winds loosen my robes, White clouds come together as I look back, From the middle peak I see other wild fields. up here where the mountain road ends, sky stains robes empty kingfisher-blue. When spring arrives, Bright moon, when it comes: we shine too. a white egret startles up, then drops. White clouds come together as I look back From the Han on many of the poems where imbued with very specific allegorical interpretations, but it is clear that later poets, who memorized the book word for word, used it as allusive material in their own poems at least as often for its plain “folk” messages as for its orthodoxly approved allegorical ones. I have sailed the River of Yellow Flowers.

Empty mountain, after rain, worldly concerns no longer trouble me. deep woods that no one knows, I dont know the Temple of Gathered Fragrance. Shifting kingfisher-greens flash radiant scatters. In vain to grieve over former possessions. I didnt know about Fragrance Accumulated Temple, >Willis Barnstone, Tony Barnstone & Xu Haixin. These poems are excerpted from The Selected Poems of Wang Wei and Mountain Home: The Wilderness Poetry of Ancient China.

The cassia blossoms fall. A great deal has been said about the origin of many, if not the majority of the poems as oral “folk” art, but it is clear from the artistry of the written language in which they have been handed down that, like the scribes who improved upon the originally oral poetry attributed to “Homer” in the West to create the Iliad and the Odyssey, the people who converted Chou folk songs and court verses into poetry in written Chinese characters clearly thought of themselves as (and were) artists. these, above all, will help you think of me. mountain moons play my lute. meditation conquers the minds poison dragons. To the east is a rice paddy, color of spring grass. Includes pinyin and literal glosses. >but when I enter blue mist it vanishes. Answer the door: sweep to welcome:

Sitting in mystic bamboo grove, back unseen. I sit alone among the tallest of the tall bamboo, to wander at will through the countryside, alone.

until the bright moon looks down. Which call awhile in the spring stream. yet waver, not willing to return.

white clouds form before your eyes

White Pebble Shoal is clear and shallow. Night tranquil: the spring mountain empties The best poems by Wang Wei (Tang dynasty) selected by MoonFields.Org! deep in the forest no one else knows

but instinct guides me back to these old woods.

A spring gurgled, choked by huge rocks, Waterlily blossoms out on tree branches flaunt crimson calyces among mountains. Red Sandalwood grows in that southern land; when fall comes, the branches fill with seeds. They chose the best of what existed, and they honored it with their own art. Ching gorge: white rocks jut. The sudden moon alarms mountain birds. Look! Sidepath shaded with ashtrees. The way we come upon blooming flowers, Quiet night, the spring mountain empty. Houses east and west ofthe stream. Dusk inks the crystal ripples. Plucking the lute and gravely whistling No rain. Tonight I am with my oar, alone, and can do This deep grove’s unknown to other men.

and when I’m up to it, I always go alone. In addition to his many translations of classical Chinese poetry and philosophy. Wang Wei’s readers almost invariably find themselves inside his poems. And autumn colors mountain distances again

A brook hiccups through the steep rocks You can almost grab the green cattail. You want to taste success or failure? Late now, I lodge on South Mountain.19 Tayai Mountain is close to the capital People wouldnt know that deep woods

Willow catkins are light and blow about.

Ancient trees, no trace of path. Header image of traditional Chinese painting of high-mountain landscape with mist courtesy Shutterstock. lost many miles among cloudy peaks. play my lute to the mountain moon. All rights reserved. If by chance I meet an old woodswman, where was the bell I heard deep in the mountains? I dont know the Temple of Gathered Fragrance Ive made myself no long-term strategy,

A translation of the poem 竹里館, “Bamboo Grove Pavilion”, by the Tang dynasty poet 王維 (Wang Wei). and lately made my home near South Mountain.

For more than two decades, Terrain.org has published essential literature, artwork, case studies, and more on the built and natural environments—all at no cost to readers and without advertising. Sun’s come to this deep grove, We still Empty mountain, none to be seen. Wind buffets and blows autumn rain. Sitting in mystic bamboo grove, back unseen Who knows the Hidden Fragrance Temple, Wang Wei (Tang dynasty) poems - List of poems by Wang Wei (Tang dynasty). All my triumphs, self knowledge: empty. Sit and watch the clouds drift overhead. There is no doubt that Wang Weis chueh chu, his quatrains, are somehow something other than anyone else’s. Bamboo rustles as the washing maids wend homeward.