Wang Wei — In the Mountains

In the Mountains

Wang Wei

701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

In Bramble Stream, white stones jut out;
the air’s cold, so red leaves are sparse.

The mountain path is clear after rain;
It’s the sky-greenery that wets my clothes.

Wang Wei — Bird-singing Stream

Bird-singing Stream

Wang Wei

701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

I’m at leisure. Cassia blossoms fall, and
it’s a quiet night, solitary in the mountains.

The moon rises — and startles the mountain bird that
sings from time to time in the strong spring river.

Wang Wei — Hsin-i Village

Hsin-i Village

Wang Wei

701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

At the tree top, the hibiscus are in flower;
there on the mountain, they put forth red calyxes.

There’s a hut by the stream, silent, with no one —
richly, in profusion, they open and fall.

Wang Wei — Living in the Mountains, Autumn Darkness

Living in the Mountains, Autumn Darkness

Wang Wei

701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

The mountain air is clean after new rain;
the evening sky breathes of coming autumn.

The moon light clarifies the spaces between the pines;
pure water wells up through the rocks.

The bamboos sound with washer women going home,
and lotuses part under the fishermen’s boats.

Following the pattern, the blossoms of spring come to rest:
even a man of duty can be allowed to remain here.

Wang Wei — Wei City Song

Wei City Song

Wang Wei

701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

Wei City — a morning rain wets the light dust.
At the inn the willows are a new color, more green.

I invite you, stay to drink another cup of wine —
after you leave Yang Gate for the west, there’s no one you know.

Wang Wei — An Answer for Vice-Prefect Chung

An Answer for Vice-Prefect Chung

Wang Wei

701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

In my late years, only quiet seems good.
My heart’s not given to ten thousand things.

I take care of myself with no serious plan and,
empty of knowledge, go back to my former woods.

Wind blows in the pines and I loosen my sash;
In the rays of the mountain-moon, I pluck my lute.

Your question implies a tired man knows the inner logic —
the fisherman’s song goes out into the estuary, deep.

Wang Wei — Chung-nan Mountain

Chung-nan Mountain

Wang Wei

701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

The second highest is near the celestial capital;
a succession of mountains extends to the edge of the sea.

The pure clouds, as I look back towards them, close up,
filling in the blue sky until there’s none in sight.

Dividing open space, the peak in the middle transforms it —
overcast or clear, differing in each of the valleys,

Wanting to find a place among people for the night,
I call across the river to ask a man gathering wood.

Wang Wei — My Retreat at Chung-nan Mountain

My Retreat at Chung-nan Mountain

Wang Wei

701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

In the middle of my life, I was very fond of Tao;
late, my home is in the south, by this mountain.

When inspiration comes, I go alone —
it’s fine to be free, to know yourself.

I walk along the river, to where it ends,
and sit watching the clouds as they rise.

I happen upon an old man in the forest;
We converse, laugh, and have no fixed time to return.

Readers of this poem may also be interested in my translation of the philosophical work: “Tao Te Ching” by Lao Tzu.

Wang Wei — The Luan Family’s Rapids

The Luan Family’s Rapids

Wang Wei

701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

In a blast, the wind drives the autumn rain;
the downpour flows, slithering, shallow over rocks.

Waves jump up, splashing into each other;
an egret startles, white, then it’s down again.

Wang Wei — The Bamboo Grove

The Bamboo Grove

Wang Wei

701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

Alone I sit, dark, among bamboos;
I pluck my qín, or whistle Taoist breathing.

Deep in forest, no one can know:
the bright moon visits me and shines.

Wang Wei — Mengcheng Cove

Mengcheng Cove

Wang Wei

701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

I have a new house, at the mouth of the Mengcheng.
The tree at the old one — the willow — feels more sorrow;

though someone new — I don’t know who — will come,
it still has just sorrow for the previous tenant.

Wang Wei — Random Poem

Random Poem

Wang Wei

701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

You yourself come from my hometown;
you should know all the hometown business.

On the day you came — in front of the silken window —
had the plum shown its blossoms, or not?

Wang Wei — Returning, Song Mountain

Returning, Song Mountain

Wang Wei

701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

The clear river is a belt, long and thin,
next to which the cart horse idles slowly.

It flows — the water — as if wanting to,
while, in dusk, each bird returns with another.

The desolate town faces an old ferry
as the setting sun fills the autumn hills.

From high, far, Songsham steps down in ridges
and I come back for now and close myself away, shut.

Wang Wei — Stopping at the Incense Temple

Stopping at the Incense Temple

Wang Wei

701-761 CE
(translated by William P. Coleman)

I didn’t know they store incense at the temple.
After a few li, I reach the clouded peaks —

through ancient trees with no path for people.
In the deep hills, a bell rings somewhere.

A spring makes sound — running through steep rocks
and the sun releases color from cold, green pines.

At dusk I bend over a deserted pool;
in peace, I meditate — and subdue dragons.