When Yang Wan-li (1124–1206) was serving as prefect of Changchou, he experienced a kind of enlightenment he equated with that of Zen and began writing in a simple, spontaneous style. Eventually he produced over 20,000 poems, some 4,000 of which survive. Here, he has been taking a midday nap and quenches his thirst with some plums. Gazing outside his windows, screened with silk the density of cheesecloth to keep out insects in summer, he watches his children chase willow fuzz, which is itself a sign that spring is over. Such are the pleasures of early summer for those who don’t chase fame or fortune.
YANG WAN-LI
The sour trace of plums squirts between my teeth
the light green of bananas fills my window screen
waking up at noon without a thought or care
I sit and watch my children chasing willow fuzz