Tu Fu

On Hearing of the Recovery of
Honan and Hopei
by Government Troops

Near Chien-ko I suddenly hear Hopei is retaken:
At the news my tears well up and wet my gown.
I turn to look at my wife and children - where's my grief gone?
I sweep aside the Poetry Classic - joy is driving me wild!
I sing lustily in the broad daylight, and drink without measure.
The verdant spring shall be my fellow on the glad journey home:
I'll sail at once through the Pa Gorge then Wu Gorge,
On past Hsiang-yang, and make for Lo-yang.

Shih Hao

The twilight was creeping
Over the hamlet of Shih Hao.
I heard the soldiers come
to seize the old man.
He - a grandfather - climbed over the wall
And fled.
His wife went to the door
to meet them.
They shouted at her in anger,
And she answered them in bitterness.
She had, she said, three sons,
All forced to take up arms.
They had fought at Yeh Town.
The youngest had written
That two were dead
And that he had hardly escaped alive.
Then she cried aloud,
"Alas, the dead are long dead, dead forever!
Inside the house
Are only my grandson, a babe at the breast,
And his mother,
In such rags that she cannot be seen."
The soldiers ordered that she go with them
Through the night and that she make haste.
As she quickly cooked some food,
I heard her weep, smothering her sobs.

When the sun rose bright the following morn,
I continued on my way.
There I met the old man
And bade him farewell.

Song of the Autumn Wind
and the Straw Hut

An autumn wind ripped clear
Three layers of thatch from my hut
Spreading it over the river,
Along the banks, into the marsh
Or driving it up into branches
Of tall trees.

Over from the south village ran
A bunch of boys, seeing me old
And feeble, stealing the thatch
In front of my eyes; hauling it
Off to their bamboo grove, I
Shouting at them until my mouth
Was dry, throat sore; then
Going inside with a sigh, leaning
On my stick; the gale stopped
But black clouds gathered
Hastening the night.

I looked at my bedding quilt, now
As cold as iron, all torn with
The restless feet of my children;
Rain streamed through the roof
Like unbroken strings of hemp
Drenching all, and I pondered on
How much sleep I had lost since
This rebellion began, hoping
The night would pass swiftly,
Wondering in my dream whether
It would be possible to build
An immense house with thousands
Of rooms, where all who needed
Could take welcome shelter; a mansion
As solid as a hill, not fearing
Wind or rain; then thinking how
If only such could be,
Would I be content to see my poor hut
Demolished with I myself
Frozen to death.

Poem for Wei Ba

Often a man's life is such
that he seldom sees his friends,
like the constellations Shen and Shang
which never share the same sky.
If not this evening, then what evening
should we share this lamp light?
How long can our youth and vigor last?
The hair at our temples is already gray.
We inquire about old acquaintances
to find that half are ghosts-
shocked cries betray
the torment of our hearts.
How could I have known
that it would be twenty years
before I again entered
your honored home.
When we parted last
you were yet unmarried;
now your sons and daughters
line up in a smiling row
to greet their father's friend.
They ask whence I have come
but before I can answer all questions
you chase them off
to bring wine and cups.
In the night rain, chives are cut
for the freshly steamed rice
mixed with yellow millet.
Saying how difficult it has been
for us to meet at last,
you pour ten cups in a row!
But even after ten cups
I'm not drunk, being so moved
by your lasting friendship.
Tomorrow we will be separated
by the peaks of mountains,
each of our worldly affairs
lost to the other's sight.