登高              dēng gāo                                              48 translations

 

風急天高猿嘯哀,       fēng jí tiān gāo yuán xiào āi,                   qəi        L e L L L d L

渚清沙白鳥飛迴.       zhǔ qīng shā bái niǎo fēi huí.                  huəi      r L L e r L L

無邊落木蕭蕭下,       wú biān luò mù xiāo xiāo xià,                 hà         r L e e L L d

不盡長江滾滾來.       bù jìn cháng jiāng gǔn gǔn lái.                ləi         e r L L L L L

萬里悲秋常作客,       wàn lǐ bēi qiū cháng zuò kè,                   kæk     d r L L L e e

百年多病獨登臺.       bǎi nián duō bìng dú dēng tái.                dhəi      e L L d e L L

艱難苦恨繁霜鬢,       jiān nán kǔ hèn fán shuāng bìn,              bìn        L L r d L L d

潦倒新停濁酒杯.       liáo dǎo xīn tíng zhuó jiǔ bēi.                  bəi        d d L L e r L

 

Rhyme  AABACADA

 

Hawkes, David A Little Primer of Tu Fu (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967) (literal)

From a Height

 

Wind keen sky high apes scream mourning

Islet pure sand white birds fly revolving

Without limit falling trees bleakly-bleakly shed

Not exhaustible long river rolling-rolling come

Myriad-li melancholy autumn constantly be traveler

Hundred-years much sickness alone ascend terrace

Difficulties bitter-regrets proliferate frosty temples

Despondent newly stop muddy wine cups

 

 

Yip, Wai-lim, ed. Chinese Poetry: Major Modes and Genres (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1976) (literal)

Climbing on the Double Ninth Day

 

wind/s              severe  sky                   high      gibbon/s           cry                   sad

shore;water      clear     sand                 white    bird/s                fly                     circle

no                    edge     leaf-falling         tree/s    xiao                  xiao                  down

no                    end       long                  river     rolling               rolling               come

10,000             mile/s    sad/grieve         autumn always              be                    traveler

hundred            year/s   much/bitter       sickness alone               ascend              terrace

hardship/s                    bitter         regrets complex/propagate   frost     side-temple-hair

wretched-state              fresh/recent       stop      turbulent           wine                 cup

 

 

“dedalus” (www.poetsgraves.co.uk/forum/viewtopic.php?p=32659&sid=12b85802de3f35d8f268cea32db8340f) (literal)

Climbing Upwards

 

Wind - sharp/cutting/biting - heaven - high - monkey(s) - cry - lament;

 Lake - clear/pristine/pure - sand - white -bird(s) - fly - return/revolve ;

 Without - boundary - falling - tree - mournful- mournful - down

 Not - limit - long - river/waters - roll - roll - come;

 10,000 - Ri - sad - autumn - always - made/constructed - guest;

 100 - year(s) - many - illnesses - alone - climb - station;

 difficult - disaster - bitter - hate - complicated - frost - temple/brow;

 heavy rain - flood - new - stop/pause/settle/ -muddy/dusty - wine –cup

 

 

anonymous (www.chinese-poems.com)) (literal)

Climbing High

 

Wind swift heaven high ape cry grief

Islet clear sand white bird fly circle

No edge fall tree rustle rustle down

No end great river surge surge arrive

10,000 li sorrow autumn always sojourn

100 years many sickness alone climb platform

Difficult suffering regret numerous white temples

Frustrated now stop turbid drink cup

 

 

unknown (titohost.itbdns.com/chinese-poet/chinese%20poem-1/1-8l7w.htm) (literal)

I Climb a High Place

 

wind strong sky high & apes voice sorrowful

shore clean, sand white & bird fly& circle

boundless deciduous tree quietly fall

Inexhaustible ChangRiver gushing-out-ceaselessly come.

distance-of-10000-miles sad autumn always be traveller

lifetime many disease alone climb elevation

endure-hardship deeply hate dense frost temple

poor-old recently stop cloudy liquor cup

 

 

Alley, Rewi Tu Fu: Selected Poems (Peking: Foreign Languages Press, 1964)

Written on an Autumn Holiday

 

These days of autumn, the clouds

Are high; wind rises in strength;

Far away the cry of monkeys can

Be heard, giving people a sorrowful

Feeling; skimming the white sands

And the water, waterfowl fly; falling

Leaves rustle as they come through

The air; The Yangtse seems endless

With its waters rolling on incessantly;

So many autumns have I now spent

Away from home, with sickness for

A companion; now do I climb high

Above the river by myself,

Troubles and sorrow have turned my hair

Grey; sick and poor, I now

Even stop drinking wine!

 

 

Alley, Rewi The People Sing: More Translations of Poems and Songs of the People of China (Peking: R. Alley, 1958)

On Climbing up the Hill

 

These days of autumn, clouds

Are high; wind rises in strength;

Far away the cry of monkeys can

Be heard, giving people a sorrowful

Feeling; skimming the white sands

And water, waterfowl fly; falling

Leaves rustle as they come through

The air; the Yangtse seems endless

With its waters rolling on incessantly;

So many autumns have I now spent

Away from home, with sickness for

A companion; now do I climb high

Above the river by myself, thinking

over all my troubles, which whiten

my temples, regretting that my health

has made me give up the solace

of wine.

 

 

Ayscough, Florence (http://www.poetic.com.cn/go.asp?id=21963&ttt=)

I Climb High

 

Wind is strong, sky is high, gibbons wail sadly;

Shoals are bright, sand gleam white, birds fly in circles.

Without bounds is the forest, leaves fall, swish, swish, they drop;

No ending has Great River, swirl, swirl, it comes.

Ten thousand li sad Autumn! Have been long a wanderer;

A hundred years, many illnesses! Alone I climb the tower.

Sorrows, hardships, bitterness, grief, thickly frosted hair on my brows,

Inert I sink to ground; all fellowship ended; I drink muddy wine in my cup.

 

 

Baird, Nathan (ensie.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html)

From a Height

 

The wind keenly sky high, apes scream; mourning

An islet of pure sand, white birds fly; revolving

Without limit, trees bleakly, bleakly, shed their falling leaves.

Inexhaustible, the long river, rolling, rolling, comes, and heaves.

A thousand mile melancholy autumn-- I, constantly a traveler amidst cries.

In a century of disease, alone, I ascend this terrace rise.

Difficulties, bitter-regrets, proliferate my frosty temples-- so, so white.

And despondent! -- I have newly stopped the muddy wine cups, Last night!

 

 

Brownrigg, Ray (www.mcs.vuw.ac.nz/~ray/ChineseEssays)

Climbing High

 

Keen winds, high clouds, sad ape calls;

Pure isles, white sands, circling birds.

Boundless, trees shed, rustling down;

Endless Yangtze, rolling comes.

Long way, sad fall, travelling ...

Lifelong, more ills, climb alone.

Hardships, regrets, hair turned white;

Wretched, now stop drinking wine.

 

 

Brownrigg, Ray (www.mcs.vuw.ac.nz/~ray/ChineseEssays)

Climbing High

 

Keen the wind, high the clouds,             apes call mournfully;

Pure the isles, white the sand,                birds are wheeling home.

Boundless the trees shed leaves -          rustling down to earth;

Endless the Yangtze flows -                  rolling on and on.

Journeys long, autumns sad,      always travelling;

Every year, many ills,                climbing this alone.

Hardships and regrets   have     frosted up my hair;

Wretched now I have just         given up the wine.

 

 

Bynner, Witter The Jade Mountain: A Chinese Anthology (New York: Knopf, 1931)

A Long Climb

 

In a sharp gale from the wide sky apes are whimpering,

Birds are flying homeward over the clear lake and white sand,

Leaves are dropping down like the spray of a waterfall,

While I watch the long river always rolling on.

I have come three thousand miles away. Sad now with autumn.

And with my hundred years of woe, I climb this height alone.

Ill fortune has laid a bitter frost on my temples,

Heart-ache and weariness are a thick dust in my wine.

 

 

Cain, Peter (inside.bard.edu/capstonejournal/2003/df-index.htm)

Climbing a Terrace

 

Among a sea of trees autumnal, I stand far from home

With a century's ills, I climb this terrace alone

From up here, the anxious wind brings monkey's sighs of melancholy near

Endless shower of leaves, at random, they dive

Despising the hardships that have silvered my hair

Bitter that illness has robbed me of the solace of my wine

Above the white-sanded island, birds hunt

While the turbulent Yangze surges eternally onward

 

 

Chou, Eva Shan Reconsidering Tu Fu: Literary Greatness and Cultural Context (Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge University Press, 1995)

Climbing to a Height

 

Strong winds, high skies, gibbons cry mournfully,

A clear islet, white sand, birds circling about,

To the horizon, leaves of trees come falling down,

Endlessly long the River tumbles, tumbles on.

Ten thousand miles in melancholy autumn, this eternal traveler,

Ill all the years of my life, I ascend this terrace alone.

Hardships and sorrows have turned these temples to frost,

I am discouraged, had to stop drinking dark wine.

 

 

Chung Yoon Ngan (www.asiawind.com/forums/read.php?f=2&i=5829&t=5829)

Ascending a Height

 

Ascending a height to enjoy a distant view, I find that the sky is immensely

vast and the wind is very strong, and I can hear the crying of the apes

sounds very sad.

There are small inlets in the water and white sand on the beach.

The flock of birds have returned from the distant.

The wind soughs and sighs and many leaves are falling from the trees.

The endless water in the Yangtze River is flowing non-stop.

 

I am thousands of miles away from home and looking at the autumn scenery,

I feel rather sad for being a wanderer for most of the time.

Alone in a height place I reckon a man has less than a hundred years to

live and besides I often feel sick.

My hair has turned white already and at this difficult time with nothing

much to do I have given up drinking.

 

 

Cloutier, Camille (inside.bard.edu/capstonejournal/2003/df-index.htm)

Climbing

 

The sky's high, keen wind carries primal wailing

And the islet's pure, white sand lies below circling birds

Leaves abound in the limitless fall

While the inexhaustible Yangtze rolls on and on

A thousand miles of endless autumn travels

A hundred years of sickly lonesome ascension

Tribulations grey my temple

As despondency stays the cup

 

 

Cooper, Arthur R. V. Li Po and Tu Fu (Harmondsworth, Eng.: Penguin Books, 1973)

From a Height

 

The winds cut, clouds are high, apes wail their sorrows,

The ait is fresh, sand white, birds fly in circles;

On all sides fallen leaves go rustling, rustling

While ceaseless river waves Come rippling, rippling;

Autumn's each faded mile seems like my journey

To mount, alone and ill, to this balcony;

Life's failures and regrets frosting my temples,

And wretched that I've had to give up drinking.

 

 

“dedalus” (www.poetsgraves.co.uk/forum/viewtopic.php?p=32659&sid=12b85802de3f35d8f268cea32db8340f)

Ascending the Mountain

 

Under a cutting wind from the open sky, monkeys are sadly keening,

Over clear lake waters, over white sands, the birds are flying home;

The autumn leaves come fluttering, fluttering down,

The never-ending river keeps flowing, flowing along ....

 

Ten thousand leagues and the sadness of an autumn traveller:

A hundred years of sorrow attend me, as all alone I climb;

Misfortunes press down on me, frost clings upon my brow,

In a flood of weariness, disused, my wine cup gathers dust.

 

 

Feng Jiang (inside.bard.edu/capstonejournal/2003/df-index.htm)

Climbing

 

Wind gea sky high yuan scream ai,

Islet ching sand bai birds fei back.

Wu bin lur mu xiao-xiao falling,

Boo jin chang river rolling-rolling lai.

Wan li bei autumn chang been guest.

Bai years duo binge dual climb tai.

Hard nana coo hen fan frost bin,

Liao down new ting stained wine bei.

 

 

Fletcher, W. J. B. More Gems of Chinese Poetry (Shanghai: Commercial Press Ltd., 1919). Hong Kong University Libraries Electronic Resources. 23 Nov. 2007 <ebook.lib.hku.hk/CADAL/B31396227/>

The Heights

 

The wind so fresh, the sky so high

Awake the gibbons’ wailing cry.

The isles clear-cut, the sand so white,

Arrest the wheeling sea-gulls’ flight.

Through endless space with rustling sound

The falling leaves are whirled around.

Beyond my ken a yeasty sea

The Yangtze’s waves are rolling free.

From far away, in autumn drear,

I find myself a stranger here.

With dragging years and illness wage

Lone war upon this lofty stage.

With troubles vexed and trials sore

My locks are daily growing hoar:

Till Time, before whose steps I pine,

Set down this failing cup of wine!

 

 

Hawkes, David A Little Primer of Tu Fu (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967)

From a Height

 

The wind is keen, the sky is high; apes wail mournfully.

The island looks fresh; the white sand gleams; birds fly circling.

An infinity of trees bleakly divest themselves, their leaves falling, falling.

Along the endless expanse of river the billows come rolling, rolling.

Through a thousand miles of autumn's melancholy, a constant traveller

racked with a century's diseases, alone I have dragged myself up to this high terrace.

Hardship and bitter chagrin have thickened the frost upon my brow.

And to crown my despondency I have lately had to renounce my cup of muddy wine!

 

 

Hung, William Tu Fu: China’s Greatest Poet (New York: Harvard University Press, 1952)

Climbing on Double Ninth

 

The wind storms across the sky and brings the gibbons’ bitter wails –

Clear river. white sands, birds wheeling,

Trees everywhere with silently falling leaves,

Endless is the Yangtze with its rolling currents.

I am so many times a stranger in a distant land during the autumn;

With an illness that has spoiled my whole life, I climb alone to this high terrace.

My difficulties and regrets exceed the number of white hairs on my head;

Too bad I cannot drown them in the wine cup I have so recently abandoned!

 

 

Hyong G. Rhew (academic.reed.edu/chinese/courses/323/heights1.html)

Ascending a Height

 

The wind is keen, the sky is high; apes wail mournfully.

The island looks fresh, the white sand gleams; birds fly circling.

An infinity of trees bleakly divest themselves, their leaves falling, falling.

Along the endless expanse of river the billows come rolling, rolling.

Through a thousand miles of autumn's melancholy, I've been a constant traveler,

Racked with a century's diseases, alone I have dragged myself up to this high terrace.

Hardship and bitter chagrin have thickened the frost upon my brow.

And to crown my despondency I have lately had to renounce my cup of muddy wine!

 

 

Juhasz, Katalin (inside.bard.edu/capstonejournal/2003/df-index.htm)

Climbing

 

Sharp wind blows from the high sky, monkeys mournfully wail,

Over the white sand of the clear islet birds fly in circles.

Leaves fall from the trees endlessly rustling, rustling,

Waves come in the river ceaselessly rolling, rolling.

Lone traveler, I cross a myriad miles of autumnal melancholy,

With a hundred years of woe I climb this high balcony.

Hardships and regrets have laid frost on my temples,

Despondently have I renounced the solace of wine.

 

 

Kline, A. S. (www.tonykline.co.uk)

High And Dry On The Yangtze

 

Cutting winds. Clouds high.

Gorge on gorge. Gibbons cry.

Over river-island’s sand

white birds swoop and land.

Everywhere leaf fall,

Dry leaves rustling.

Everywhere dark waves,

Endless rippling.

Mile on mile of autumn light

is like this journey.

Climb alone and ill

To the bright balcony.

Life’s regrets and failures,

Frost on my forehead.

No longer have a body

To take me where the wine led.

 

 

Li Weijian and Weng Xianliang 李惟建,翁显良 (http://www.poetic.com.cn/go.asp?id=21963&ttt=)

On the Heights

 

High wind blowing, high clouds floating, gibbons wailing,

Sandbars gleaming white, the waters rippling clear,

Birds coming home, leaves rustling down –

And the great river rolls on, ceaseless.

A stranger here, far, far, from home,

I can’t help feeling sad in autumn.

Life is short, my health failing, here I stand alone.

Life is hard, my temples greying,

I’m filled with regret.

Down and out, can’t even drink now,

Can’t even drink now…

 

 

Liu, Wu-chi & Irving Yucheng Lo, eds. Sunflower Splendor: Three Thousand Years of Chinese Poetry (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1975)

Climbing the Heights

 

When winds rage and the sky is high, gibbons cry mournfully;

Over white sands on a clear riverbank, birds fly and whirl.

Leaves fall from deep woods – rustling and soughing;

The Long River rolls on, forever, wave after wave.

Ten thousand miles away in sad autumn, I often find myself a stranger;

My whole life afflicted by sickness, I mount alone the high terrace.

Beset by hardships, I resent the heavy frost on my temples;

Dispirited, I have by now abandoned my cup of unstrained wine.

 

 

Lunde, David (www.chinapage.com/poet-e/dufu2e.html)

View From a Height

 

Sharp wind, towering sky, apes howling mournfully;

untouched island, white sand, birds flying in circles.

Infinite forest, bleakly shedding leaf after leaf;

inexhaustible river, rolling on wave after wave.

Through a thousand miles of melancholy autumn, I travel;

carrying a hundred years of sickness, I climb to this terrace.

Hardship and bitter regret have frosted my temples--

and what torments me most? Giving up wine!

 

 

McCraw, David R. Du Fu's Laments from the South (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1992)

Ascending High

 

The wind swift, heavens high - gibbons sadly scream;

The holm clear, sand so white, birds circling soar.

Boundlessly, falling leaves tossed rustling down;

Endlessly, the Long Jiang keeps rolling along.

Myriad leagues mourning Fall forever the wanderer;

My whole life manifold ills, a lone terrace climber.

Hardship, mishap - I bitterly resent my frosty brow:

Depressed, downcast: I just quit my cup of murky brew.

 

 

Nee Wen-yei (inside.bard.edu/capstonejournal/2003/df-index.htm)

On Climbing the Heights of the Ninth Day of the Ninth Moon

 

The wind keen, the sky high, the gibbons wailing.

Blue islands, white sand, and sea birds flying,

And everywhere the leaves falling,

Then the immeasurable great river in torrent.

Ten thousand li from home, in such an autumn,

Wasted by sickness and years, alone, climbing the heights:

Sorrows and griefs and suffering have given me new gray hairs.

Utterly cast down, I have just drunk a glass of wine.

 

 

“orchid_dreams” (www.chinahistoryforum.com/lofiversion/index.php/t14104.html)

Ascend

 

In a sharp gale from the wide sky apes are whimpering

Over the clear lake and white sand birds are flying homeward

Immensity of leaves rustling fell

The never-ending Yangtze river rolling on

I have come thousands of miles miles away, sad now with autumn

And with my hundred years of woe, I climb this height alone.

Ill fortune has laid a bitter frost on my temples

Heart-ache and weariness are a thick dust in my wine.

 

 

Schadler, Claire (inside.bard.edu/capstonejournal/2003/df-index.htm)

The Nearest End

 

 Wind the color of grey / Blusters high

 In some other place that is not my own

 The time is waiting / And there is a new sound

 Monkeys wailing / Breath / Sleep

 Clearly things are never a certain way

 The islet / The whiteness / The sand

 I am sure this other place exists

 Where everything is still / Birds / Metal

 Are a certain reassurance / Are movement / Are wheeling

 Everywhere there is a decision

 There is something new

 The leaves / The trees / Falling / rustling

 while everything else is so much faster

 so much more / moving on forever

 the river / the sounds / all around is a longing / home

 somewhere other than here / a prey to loneliness

 to be alone / this length of time / and in the end

 a glass of wine / an empty cup / I have given in

 

 

Soden, Tommy (inside.bard.edu/capstonejournal/2003/df-index.htm)

Climbing Up-top (California Rose)

 

In skyward static of Santa Ana's wind

the cloud-bent apes in golden wakes of traffic loose

all mourning screeches-spent wails of silver isles;

with discharge from electric turning bronze air-

held soaring wayward birds wheeling tresses of

age-butchered orbs. In life-bleak aperies file

invertebrate monotones away-travails

from sunbeams and vaunts of even rebel's prey

for life eternally two-mount then I:

In detriment that falls at each mountain-spring.

We're marooned amongst sick, regretful fools,

who thicken with time and space of jacaranda shells,

my corrugate streams creak violet beneath

whole orange groves-in cracking wine-sapped cups.

 

 

Sun, Cecile Chu-chin (muse.jhu.edu/journals/comparative_literature_studies/v043/43.3sun.pdf)

Climbing the Heights

 

Raging wind, high sky, gibbons shriek mournfully,

Clear river, white sand, bird circling above.

Boundlessly the leaves fall, fall, fall,

Endlessly the Long River rolls on, and on, and on.

Ten thousand miles, grieving over autumn, always a wanderer,

Hardships and bitter regrets thicken the frost on my temples,

A hundred years, stricken with sickness, alone I climb the heights.

Despondent and frail, I have even quit my cup of coarse wine.

 

 

Wang Yushu Selected Poems and Pictures of the Tang Dynasty (China Intercontinental Press, 2005)

Climbing the Height

 

So hard blows the wind, so high is the sky;

So grievous is the monkeys’ howling cry.

The islet is clear and the sands are white;

The birds are all making their return flight.

Those falling leaves in boundless quantity

Are drifting in the air desolately.

The water of the endless Yangtze River

Is surging on for ever and ever.

As a stranger from home ten thousand li,

In autumn I would feel sad and lonely.

For many years I have been unhealthly,

But still try to climb up the tower singly.

On the temples more and more of my hairs

Have been frosted by hardsips, pains and cares.

Much depressed and in low spirits sinking,

I have recently refrained from drinking.

 

 

Watson, Burton The Selected Poems of Du Fu (New York: Columbia University Press, 2002)

Climbing to a High Place

 

Wind shrill in the tall sky, gibbons wailing dolefully;

beaches clean, sands white, overhead the circling birds:

leaves fall, no end to them, rustling, rustling down;

ceaselessly the long river rushes, rushes on.

Autumn sorrow ten thousand miles from home, always a traveler;

sickness dogging each year of my life, I climb the terrace alone.

Troubles, vexations, coat my sidelocks with frost;

listless at this new blow, I forgo the cup of muddy wine.

 

 

Wu Juntao 吴钧陶 (http://www.poetic.com.cn/go.asp?id=21963&ttt=)

Mounting

 

From heaven high the winds are whirling down with monkey’s whine,

And over the white sanded hursts the birds are cleaving fine.

The boundless forests shed their yellow leaves with rustles;

The everflowing Yangtze on its way rolls and wrestles.

Autumn is chilling me – always a thousand-miles-roameer,

Alone mounting the mountain, and a life-long sufferer.

I deeply loathe my rime-like temples as in these hard times;

Of late Senility yet forces me to give up wines!

 

 

Xie Wentong 谢文通 (http://www.poetic.com.cn/go.asp?id=21963&ttt=)

Climbing the Heights

 

Swift wind and a high ceiling mournful the monkeys sound,

From island to white beach the birds are wheeling round.

Everywhere falling leaves fall rustling to [the ground.]

The waves of the Long River onrushing without bound.

Who grieves for Autumn a thousand miles from home

Despite lifelong illness I climb the terrace alone.

Hardships and bitterness frosting many a hair,

I abjure the cup of wine that stopped my moan.

 

 

Xu Yuanchong 许渊冲 (http://www.poetic.com.cn/go.asp?id=21963&ttt=)

On the Heights                                     

 

The wind so swift, the sky so steep, sad gibbons cry;

Water so clear and sand so white, backward birds fly.

The boundless forest sheds its leaves shower by shower;

The endless river rolls its waves hour after hour.

Far from home in autumn, I’m grieved to see my plight;

After my long illness, I climb alone this height.

Living in hard times, at my frosted hair I pine;

Pressed by poverty, I give up my cup of wine.

 

 

Xu Yuanchong 许渊冲 (http://www.poetic.com.cn/go.asp?id=21963&ttt=)

On the Heights

 

The wind so swift and sky so wide, apes wail and cry;

Water so clear and beach so white, birds wheel and fly.

The boundless forest sheds its leaves shower by shower;

The endless river rolls its waves hour after hour.

A thousand miles from home (in autumn), I’m grieved at autumn’s plight;

Ill now and then for years, alone I’m on this height.

Living in times so hard, at frosted hair I pine;

Cast down by poverty, I have to give up wine.

 

 

Xu Zhongjie 徐忠杰 (http://www.poetic.com.cn/go.asp?id=21963&ttt=)

An Ascent

 

A stiff breeze is up; the vault of heaven seems high.

Monkeys on the hills are making their plaintive cry.

The islets become clearer; the sandbanks, clean and white;

Water-birds are hovering over them in their flight.

For miles around, rustling leaves are falling without pause.

The Yang-tze-kiang is tumbling on in its onward course.

Far from home, autumn strikes me as adding to my grief.

An invalid, I mount the heights alone for relief.

Long suffering has left its cruel mark on my hair.

I’ve ceased anew to drink in utter despair.

 

 

Yang Lian ((inside.bard.edu/capstonejournal/2003/df-index.htm)

Climbing

 

Wind blows wildly (in)/(on)/(from)/(to) the sky (when)/(and) monkeys scream mourning;

The pure islet (with)/(and) pale sand (where) birds are wheeling;

Borderless rusty leaves (are) bleakly-bleakly falling;

Endless river waves (are) rolling-rolling coming;

To be a traveler,

   To be a traveler often,

      To be a traveler often in autumn,

         To be a traveler often in tragic autumn,

            ----Thousands of miles away,

               ----(Watching the space between life and death,)

                    to be a traveler often in tragic autumn;

To climb the terrace,

   To climb the terrace alone,

      To climb the terrace alone while ill,

         To climb the terrace alone while always ill,

            ----A  hundred years,

               ----(Thinking of the time between past and future,)

                    to climb the terrace alone while always ill;

Difficulties have thickened the frost upon (one's)/(my)/(his)/(our)/(their)/(......) hair;

Despondency leaves behind a stained wine cup.

 

 

Yang Xianyi and Gladys Yang Poetry and Prose of the Tang and Song (Beijing, China: Chinese Literature, 1984)

Climbing a Terrace

 

Wind blusters high in the sky and monkeys wail;

Clear the islet with white sand where birds are wheeling;

Everywhere the leaves fall rustling from the trees,

While on for ever rolls the turbulent Yangtse.

All around is autumnal gloom and I, long from home,

A prey all my life to ill health, climb the terrace alone;

Hating the hardships which have frosted my hair,

Sad that illness has made me give up the solace of wine.

 

 

Yip, Wai-lim, ed. Chinese Poetry: Major Modes and Genres (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1976)

Climbing on the Double Ninth Day

 

Shrill winds, high sky, monkeys’ heart-rending cry.

Clear river, white sand, birds soar and wheel.

Leaves, leaves of a rimless forest rustle down.

Waves upon waves, the endless Yangtze comes drumming in.

A million miles of grievous autumn, constantly a traveler.

Entire life in sickness: I alone climb up the terrace.

Hardships, bitter regrets propagates my frosty hair.

Wretched! that I have recently stopped going for the cup!

 

 

Zhang Bingxing, trans. 100 Best Chinese Classical Poems (Beijing: Zhonghua Book Co., 2001)

Ascending a Height

 

The sky is high, / the wind is tight, / and the apes cry.

The islet is clear, / the sand is white, / and birds are whirling in the air.

A boundless stretch of leaves fall whistling on the ground,

and surging waves of the Yangtze River come around.

I feel deep sorrow for the autumn, / as I’ve travelled thousands of miles in the world.

In my declining years I suffer from illness. / Now I am ascending a height without cheers.

As times are hard, / I hate to see white frost creeping over my head.

Being ill and frustrated, / from drinking I’ve abstained.

 

 

Zhang Xueqing 章学清 (http://www.poetic.com.cn/go.asp?id=21963&ttt=)

An Ascent

 

The wind so wild, the sky so high,

The moody monkeys sorely sigh.

The isle so drear, the sand so pale,

The lingering gulls in circles sail.

All over such a vast expanse,

The rustling leaves off branches dance.

The Yangtse River rises yon,

And passes raging on and on.

Apart from home so far and long,

With autumn, myriad sorrows throng.

With illness all my life to fight,

I now alone ascend this height.

Weighed down in troubled times with care,

I hate the growing hoary hair.

A broken heart, for cups I pine;

Oh, if my health permitted wine!

 

 

anonymous (www.chinese-poems.com)

Climbing High

 

Swift wind, heaven high, an ape's cry of grief,

At the islet of clear white sand, birds circle round.

Endlessly, trees shed leaves rustling down,

Without cease, the great river comes surging on.

Ten thousand miles in sorrowful autumn, always on the move,

A hundred years full of sickness, I climb the terrace alone.

Suffering troubles and bitter regret have turned my temples white,

Frustratingly I've had to abandon my cup of cloudy wine.

 

 

unknown (titohost.itbdns.com/chinese-poet/chinese%20poem-1/1-8l7w.htm)

I Climb a High Place

 

The wind is strong, the sky is high and voices of apes are sorrowful

The shore is clean, sands is white, and birds fly and circle

Boundless deciduous trees drop their leaves

Inexhaustible water of Chang River comes as if gushing out

In a distance of innumerable miles, in a sad autumn, I am always a traveller.

With many diseases throughout my life, I climb an elevation alone

I have endured hardship. Deeply I hate dense white hairs of my temple

I am poor old. Recently I have stopped drinking even a cup of cloudy liquor.