96

Tune: “Partridge Sky” Written While Banished to Huang-chou

Su Shih (1037–1101)

Where the forest breaks,

Hills emerge into view;

Where the walled courtyard is hidden in bamboo,

Obstreperous cicadas riot over a small pond o’ergrown with withered grass.

Frequent is the appearance of white birds looping in the air,

Delicate the fragrance of pink lotus blooms mirrored in water.

Beyond the village houses,

Beside the ancient town,

Cane in hand, a leisurely stroll I take

In the wake of the slanting sun.

Thanks to last midnight’s bounteous rain,

My floating life¹ now enjoys one more day of delicious cool.

Translated by Jiaosheng Wang

 

For a note on Su Shih, see selection 127.

1. An expression meaning “precarious life” which originates from the Chuang Tzu (see selection 8).

 

Tune: “Fragrance Fills the Courtyard”

Su Shih

Vainglory in Snailhorn,

Petty profit on Flyshead:

It all adds up to effort wasted.

If everything is determined in advance,

Then who is weak, who is strong?

With what time I have left before I am old,

Let me be irresponsible for a little bit.

In my hundred years,

I’d still like to be drunk

Thirty-six thousand times.

Reckon it up—

How much can you have,

With worry and grief, wind and rain

Taking away a good half?

But why

Go on till you die, talking about the short end and the big deal?

Here we have a fresh breeze and a bright moon,

The moss-mat spread,

The cloud-curtain drawn—

It’s good here in the south:

A thousand measures of fine wine

And “Fragrance Fills the Courtyard”¹ for a song.

Translated by James Robert Hightower

 

1. The tune title of this lyric. Compare selection 97, the first lyric.

 

Tune: “Immortal by the River”

Su Shih

I drank at night on East Slope, sobered up, got drunk again.

When I came home it was sometime past midnight,

The houseboy was already snoring like thunder.

I pounded on the gate and got no response,

Then leaned on my staff and listened to the river noises.

I have long deplored that this body is not one’s own.

When can I forget the restless striving?

The night is late, the wind still, the ripples smooth.

In a little boat I shall put out from here,

Entrusting my remaining days to river and sea.

Translated by James Robert Hightower