Su Tung P’o — lyrics to the tune of “Fairy Grotto”

lyrics to the tune of “Fairy Grotto”

Su Tung-P’o

1037-1101 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

She has ice flesh, jade bones:
pure of themselves, cool, with no perspiration.

When wind comes, her water palace fills with hidden fragrance
and the embroidered curtains flutter.

One bit of bright moon peeks at her —
at her who’s not yet sleeping,
leaning on her elbow, hairpin sideways and hair ruffled.

She arises, I take her white hand;
and we pass the courtyard doors without a sound.

At times a shooting star crosses the Milky Way.
Tentative, I ask, “How late has the night gotten?

Night is already at the third watch.
The moonlight pales;
The jade stars near the Dipper roll low.

I can count out hours until the west wind returns,
not to mention the years flowing by —
inside the darkness, stealing, exchanging .

Su Tung P’o — Impromptu Verse, again

Impromptu Verse, again

Su Tung-P’o

1037-1101 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

With white hair that the wind’s blown — frosted, loose —
in this small pavilion, I lie on a rattan mat seeming sick.

The doctor says spring sleep is beautiful;
The Taoist softly rings the bell for 5th watch.

Su Tung P’o — Impromptu Verse

Impromptu Verse

Su Tung-P’o

1037-1101 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

Lonely, Tung P’o, a sick old man has
white hair that the wind blows — frosted, loose.

My son is fooled, happy at my rosy face;
I smile, knowing the red is wine.

Su Tung-P’o — Dreaming of My Deceased Wife on the Night of the 20th Day of the First Month

Dreaming of My Deceased Wife on the Night of the 20th Day of the First Month

Su Tung-P’o

1037-1101 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

Ten years, both, living and dead, boundless —
even if we were able, it’s hardly possible to forget.

A thousand li away, she lies I can’t say where — but cold.
If we meet, we must not recognize
faces that are dusty, temples frosted over.

When night comes, not expecting it, in a deep dream I return home
where, at the little window, she arranges her dress and make-up.

We look at each other and do not speak — only, tears flow freely
because every year I expect my heart to break there,
and the bright night moon guards the thin pines.

Su Tung-P’o — lyrics for the tune of “Immortal by the River”

lyrics for the tune of “Immortal by the River”

Su Tung-P’o

1037-1101 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

I drank all evening at East Slope and woke again drunk,
coming back at maybe the third watch.

I can hear my houseboy’s snores already thundering
and so — with no response to my knocks —
lean on my staff and listen to the river.

Admitted, my body’s not a possession;
so, when can I forget being busy?

The night now deep, the wind quiet, the waves smooth,
a small boat drifting from shore,
to the river, the sea, I trust my remaining life.

Note: The larger imagery in this poem — despite a wide cross-cultural gap — resembles the imagery

Su Tung-P’o — Awaiting the new year

Awaiting the new year

Su Tung-P’o

1037-1101 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

Soon we’ll feel the year running out
like a snake going into its hole.
Long, scaly, already half disappeared,
the last trace will go; who can stop it?
I might want to tie its tail,
but even trying hard I know I can’t.

Children want to stay awake;
Noisy, cheerful adults keep watch together.
The rooster will omit to crow at dawn
and the drummer too will respect the celebrations.
We’ll sit for a long time, until the lamp burns down to ash,
then rise to see the plow stars turned downward in the north.

Another year may be more than nature will give.
Worried, fearing I’ve wasted my time,
I’ll exert myself to the utmost tonight.
Young enough still, I prize that ability.

Su Tung-P’o — Mid-autumn moon

Mid-autumn moon

Su Tung-P’o

1037-1101 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

At sunset, the clouds gather far; it’s perfectly clear and cold.
The Milky Way is silent, and I turn away to the jade plate.

The goodness of this life — this night — cannot last.
Next year, when the moon is bright, where will I be to see it?

Su Tung-P’o — A visit to the temple of the God of Mercy, on a rainy day

A visit to the temple of the God of Mercy, on a rainy day

Su Tung-P’o

1037-1101 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

The silkworms have grown old;
the wheat has become half yellow;
around the mountain the rain falls unhindered.

Farmers halt their plows;
women set aside their baskets;
in the high hall white robes clothe the immortals.

Su Tung-P’o — A visit to the Temple of Auspicious Fortune, alone at Winter Solstice

A visit to the Temple of Auspicious Fortune, alone at Winter Solstice

Su Tung-P’o

1037-1101 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

Could warmth ever come again to the deep well bottom?
The cold, sighing rain has drenched all the withered roots.

Who besides me would likely visit the teacher —
when there are no flowers — be willing to come alone?

Su Tung-P’o — Written on the north tower wall after snow

Written on the north tower wall after snow

Su Tung-P’o

1037-1101 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

The yellow dusk produced a fine, fine rain,
but at night the calm, windless weather changed.

I felt it only like water droplets on my bed covers,
unaware of the snow heaped in the courtyard.

In the fifth watch, toward dawn, color returned to my study curtains,
and under a half moon, the sound of cold fell from the painted eaves.

I surveyed from the north tower and saw Horse Ears Mountain;
it was buried except for the two tips.