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;
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
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,
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
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
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,
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
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).
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
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
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
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 (
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
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,
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
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
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;
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 (
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
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
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
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.