I followed you
into this world.
Karma bound us for a lifetime;
Heaven had to know.
My youth for you; your love for me;
heart and love without peer.
All we wished
was a lifetime together;
now old age finds us
apart and full of longing.
It seems like only yesterday I served you;
I lived in the Moon Palace.[5]
Subsequently,
I fell in the world.
My hair, once well combed,
is three years in tangles.
Powder and rouge I have, but for whom
do I make myself beautiful?
My tribulations
are bundled high like mountain folds.
I sigh,
I cry.
Life has limits;
tribulations are limitless.
Time, insensible as always,
flows by like water.
Hot, cold; the seasons come and go;
they know their term;
I listen, I look;
there is so much to feel.
Suddenly spring breezes blow;
they melt the piled snow.
Outside the window, two, three branches
of the plum burst into flower.
Essence of coolness; how can I describe
the subtle fragrance?
The dawn moon
shines on my pillow.
I am filled with joy.
Is it my love, is it not?
Oh to cut that plum branch
and send it to my love!
What thoughts would fill his heart
at sight of you?
Petals fall, new leaves sprout:
there's a carpet of green.
Screens are desolate,
embroidered hangings mask emptiness.
I roll up the lotus curtain,
set out the peacock screen.[6]
I am filled with tribulation;
the day is interminable.
I cut a bolt of mandarin duck silk,
unravel the five-colored thread,
measure the cloth with a golden rule.
A suit for my love!
My seamstress skills are unparalleled;
the suit is elegance itself.
I put it in a white jade box upon a jiggy[7]
done in mother-of-pearl.
I must send this suit to my love.
I look to where he lives.
Mountains, clouds -
the road is rough beyond words.
A thousand, ten thousand li!
Who would travel such a path?
Were someone to go, would my love open the box
and greet the suit as he greets me?
In the space of a night, there's frost in the air;
honking geese are on the wing.
I climb alone to the high pavilion
and roll up the bead curtain.
The moon rises on East Mountain;
I see the Pole Star.
Is it my love? Tears of joy spurt
involuntarily from my eyes.
Oh to grab the bright moonbeams,
to send them to the Phoenix Pavilion![8]
My love could hang them on the pavilion,
light up the eight corners of the world,
make bright as day every remote village,
every rugged mountain valley.
Heaven and earth are without pulse;
white snow lies everywhere.
Men can't move;
birds can't fly.
When it's as cold as this
south of the Xiao and the Xiang,[9]
no need to speak of the Jade Pavilion[10]
in the high places of the north!
Oh to raise the warm breath of spring,
to warm my love where he lives;
to send the bright sunlight from the eaves
of my thatched house to the Jade Pavilion.
Dressed in scarlet skirt,
blue sleeves rolled half way up,
I lean on my bamboo stick
in the setting sun:
I have much to think about.
The short sun soon goes down;
I sit stiffly
through the long night.
I put out the lamp, put down
the inlaid harp, recline.
Chin cupped in my hands, I wonder
will I see my love in dreams.
The duck embroidered quilt is cold;
when will this interminable night end?
Through the twelve divisions of the day,
through the thirty days of the month.
I think, I think, I think;
I try to forget my tribulations,
but sorrow is so embedded
it pierces to the bone;
ten physicians renowned as Bianque[11]
could not cure my sickness.
Ah, this sickness
is my love's doing.
Better die,
become a tiger butterfly;
perch on flower branch
after flower branch,
fly with scented wings
to my love's coat.
My love may not know me,
but I can follow him around.
Lady hasting on your way,
I know your face.
How come you've left
the palace of the Lord of Heaven?
The sun is almost down:
whom are you rushing to meet?
Ah, good friend, it's you;
listen to my story.
My face, my actions
caused me to lose the king's favor.
Once he greeted me
with warmth.
I trusted him;
I had no other thought.
Perhaps my flirting
got on his nerves;
the light of his countenance
in greeting darkened.
In bed the problem filled my mind;
sitting up I sought answers.
My sins were piled
high as mountains.
Why resent Heaven;
why blame men?
Bleakly I tried to unravel the conundrum:
it was the Creator's fault!
Don't think such thoughts, good friend.
I'm eaten up myself inside.
When I served My Lord,
I knew his affairs.
He's delicate as water,
how long can he prevail?
How will he fare in the cold of spring,
in the heat of summer?
Who will care for him
in autumn and winter?
Does he enjoy his morning porridge,
his breakfast and dinner as of yore?
Does he sleep through
the interminable winter night?
I long for news
of my Lord's household.
The sun has gone today.
Will someone have news tomorrow?
I have nowhere to trust my heart.
Where can I go?
I push my way
up a steep hill,
grabbing trees and rocks
as I go.
It's a world
of cloud and mist.
Hills and streams are dark;
I cannot see sun or moon.
When I cannot see
in front of my nose,
how can I hope to see
a thousand li?
Better go to the waterside
and check the boats.
Wind and waves
dizzy the river.
The boatmen are gone;
empty boats are tied to the shore.
I stand alone on the bank
and watch the setting sun;
news of My Lord's house
seems even more remote.
Returning in the night
to the cold bedding of my thatched hut,
I wonder for whom
the lamp on the wall brightens.
Up, down,
my heart is in constant crisis;
Strength fails,
suddenly I fall into a light sleep.
Devotion stirs profoundly;
I see my lord in dream.
Already his jade fair face
is middle-aged.
I try to uncover
the thought hidden in his heart.
Tears pour out;
it is impossible to speak.
A catch in the throat
stops all baring of the heart.
The cry of the unruly cock
awakens me from sleep.
Ah, all is futile!
Where is my lord?
Suddenly I get to my feet,
sit back again,
open the window,
look outside;
a sad shadow
is all that follows me around.
Better to be a waning moon
and shine inside his window.
Lady, forget about the moon:
be a nasty rain instead.
Reclined in the bamboo grove,
victim of my love for rivers and streams.[12]
Big news! I am to be Governor of Kwandong,[13]
all eight hundred li.
The king's favor
knows no limits!
I race on horseback
take my leave of the king
and set out on my way,
eyes trained on
my standard.
Change horses at P'yonggu Posthouse,[17]
follow the Black River.[18]
That's Pheasant Ridge.[20]
Where do the slow-flowing waters
of the Soyang River drain?
An aging retainer leaving the capital
faces the prospect of white hair.
After a night in Ch'orwon,
I climb at first light to Pukkwan Pagoda.
Thought I might see
the highest peak of Capital Mountain.[21]
Magpies scrawk
on the site of Kungye's palace:
in knowledge or ignorance, I wonder,
of the waxing and waning of old time?
Hoeyang shares its name
with a village in the ancient kingdom of Han.
Will I see again the noble mien
All's well in the official residence.
It's the third month.
Hwach'on Stream stretches
to the Diamond Mountains.
I cast off all accoutrements;
lighten my load.
Stick in hand I set out
along the narrow stony track.
Hundred Stream Canyon[23] is on one side
as I approach Ten Thousand Falls.[24]
I see a silver-white rainbow
and a jade-tailed dragon.
Coils, swirls,
the spew explodes for miles around;
thunder in the ear,
snow in the eye.
On the top story of Diamond Terrace,[25]
the immortal crane has strung a rope,
awakened perhaps from first sleep
by the jade flute tones of the spring breeze.
White blouse, black skirt,
the crane soars into the sky
in a revel of joy
with the master of West Lake.[26]
I look down at twin peaks:
Great Incense Burner and Small Incense Burner;[27]
climb again to Real Rest Terrace[28]
behind True Sun Temple.
I sit and rest.
I can see the true face of Lu Shan.[29]
The Creator has made
a great confusion.
What flies should not run;
what stands should not soar;
studded with lotus, tied with jade;
spur to the East Sea, pillar to the north sky.
High View Terrace[30] and solitary Hyolmang Peak[31]
rise high as if to ask a question of the sky,
staunch through all the kalpas.
Ah where is there your like?
Back up on Open the Heart Terrace,[32]
I look out at Many Fragrance Fortress.[33]
I try to count the 12,000 peaks,
every peak, every rock edge draped in primeval energy.
The clear vitality is what surprises.
I wish I could contrive a hero from this energy.
In terms of form the possibilities are myriad;
each peak is different.
These peaks are unchanged
since the world came into being.
Seeing them now for the first time,
my heart fills with a multitude of feelings.
Who climbed
the pinnacle of Piro Peak?[34]
Was East Mountain higher,
was Grand Mountain higher? [35]
How could I know
that the kingdom of Lu was small,
that the world under the broad expanse
of heaven was tiny.
How could I plumb
the mystery of what I saw?
I couldn't get to the top;
would going back down be a problem?
by way of Wont'ong valley.[37]
A broad cliff
is the site of the Dragon's Firepot.
The old dragon of a thousand years
lies in coils within.
Day and night the coils unwind
taking him to the broad sea.
When will he gather wind and cloud
Please save the grasses
that have withered in the shade.
After Maha Gorge[39] and the exquisite rock carving,[40]
climb up to Buddha's Terrace[42]
by the rotten single log bridge.
A thousand feet of sheer cliff
stand in the air.
Slowly I count
the strands of the Milky Way;
warp and woof,
it hangs there on the loom.
Twelve strands the book says.[43]
To me, there are more.
Had Li Bai
the chance to talk it out,
he'd never have claimed
Lushan was lovelier than here.
So much for mountain country;
it is time to head for the East Sea .
I get on a small sedan chair
and begin the slow ascent to Mountain Glow Pagoda.[44]
The imposing green valley
and the birds chirping in various voices
seem to resent
farewell.
I unfold the banner
in a flutter of five colors;
Flute and drum mingle in performance;
the clouds seem to lift from the sea.
My horse, sure-footed on the shining sands,
an inebriate immortal slumped in the saddle,
passes among the flowering sea-roses
that border the boundless sea,
White gull, fly not away.
Don't you know I'm a friend?
I examine Golden Orchid Cave,[45]
continue up to Stone Pillar Pavilion.[46]
Four columns stand,
all that remains of White Jade Pavilion.[47]
Was it built by a master craftsman,
or by the hammer of a god?
What in fact
do the six faces signify?
I forgo Kosong
The red letters are clearly etched;
where are the four Immortals?[49]
After their four-day sojourn,
where did they go?
Are they at Immortals at Play Pool,[50]
at Bright Prince Lake?[51]
Where did they sit?
Clear Torrent Pavilion, [52] Multi-vista Terrace?[53]
Pear blossoms fall;
the sad song of the scops-owl fills the air.
on the hill east of Naksan;
I rise in the night
to see the sunrise.
Propitious clouds blossom,
six dragons take the strain;
the sun rises from the sea;
the heavens tremble.
The sun climbs into the sky;
bright enough to count its golden locks.
Will passing clouds
screen the light?
Where is the Immortal poet?[55]
Does only the poem remain?
Between heaven and earth
news of a great poet lives on.
Over the azaleas
the feather-top carriage
rolls down to Kyongp'o as the sun declines.
Ten li of sheer-ice silk,
ironed and ironed again,
stretched among
the great spreading pines,
water so calm
I can count the grains of sand.
A lone boat sails past;
I go up to the pagoda.
The great sea stretches out
So peaceful! Such atmosphere!
An unbounded world!
Where
is there richer store!
I could recount
Kangnung famed for virtue
and cultural accomplishment.
Gates commemorating fidelity and filial deeds
dot the valleys.
Lines of houses,
each rating a ranking post.
West Bamboo Pavilion,[59] Pearl Posthouse:[60]
underneath, the waters of fifty streams
carry the shadow of the Taebaek Mountains
Would that they flowed by the Han River
to the slopes of Namsan in Seoul.
But this is an official trip, circumscribed.
And I can't say I dislike the scene.
Pleasant thoughts fill the heart;
no room for the traveller's sadness.
Should I float off on the raft of the Immortals,
head for the Great Dipper and the Herdboy?
Should I seek the Immortals
I have not seen to the root of the sky;
Regretfully, I climb to Mangyang Pavilion.[63]
The sky lies beyond the sea;
what stretches beyond the sky?
The whales are angry enough;
who frightened them to blow and spume in tumult?
It's as if a silver mountain were levelled
and the Immortals were sporting at play.
How else explain the white snow
that fills the width of the fifth month sky?
Night falls before I know it;
wind and waves quiet down.
At a spot near where the sun rises,
I await the rising of the moon.
A long length of propitious light appears,[64]
then hides in the clouds.
I raise the bead curtain again,
sweep the jade steps again;
Straight-backed I watch
until the Morning Star rises.
Someone has sent
a single spray of white lotus.
Would that I could show
this wonder world to all men.
I pour a glass of divine nectar,
offer it to the moon and ask:
Where have all the heroes gone?
Who were the four Immortals?
I would have news of the old world
from anyone who comes.
The road stretches from Immortals Mountain
along the East Sea.
I pillow on a pine root,
fall into a light sleep.
A man appears to me in my dreams.
He says:
I know you;
you are a ranking Immortal in heaven.
You misread a character
in the Book of the Yellow Court[65]
and came down
into the world of men.
Stay a moment;
drink this cup of wine.
He dips with the Great Dipper,
fills the cup with water from the sea,
drinks himself and gives me to drink,
four cups in all.
A flower breeze gently blows,
lifting my by the armpits.
A little more and I would float
into the broad expanse of heaven.
"Take this wine,
divide it among the four seas;
and when you have rendered
the numberless millions inebriate,
we'll meet again
and have another cup."
When he finishes speaking,
he mounts a crane and rides into the broad sky.
The jade flute screels in the sky;
is it yesterday or the day before?
I wake from sleep
and look down at the sea.
I do not know the depth of the sea,
how could I know its width?
(Dip, dip it all,
pour, pour it all.
Boy, rinse the cup;
bring a drink
to all who dwell in the Nine Heavens;
There is no mountain in the world
where the moon does not shine.
A wayfarer,
lodged on Mount Star: I said:
Master of Soha Hall's Shady Nook Pavilion,[67]
listen to me.
With so many fine things
in the world of men,
why does age tie you
to one river, one mountain;
you come into this mountain retreat,
you don't leave?
I swept the pine root again,
put a cushion on the bamboo settle,
Popped up, sat down,
tried it out for comfort.
The clouds in the sky
were wonder stones [68] of the house;
the master
flitted in and out.
The blue stream, flecked with white,
swept around the pavilion,
as if someone had stolen
and unrolled the silk
in a flowing riot of pattern.
There's no calendar in the hills,
no way to tell the passage of time.
The scene before me
has a face for every season.
What I see, what I hear
is the Immortals' world.
Morning sunlight shines on my plum window;
I waken to the fragrance.
An old mountain man
has no shortage of things to do.
In a sunny spot under the hedge
he plants his cucumber;
he weeds, he scuffles,
he tends them in the rain.
The old story of Blue Gate [70]
is re-enacted.
I tie my straw sandals,
set out with bamboo staff.
Peach blossoms line the path by the stream
right down to the fragrant grasses by the water.
The shadow of the stonewall screen,[71]
reflected like a painting in a brightly polished mirror,
I take as a friend
as we go down together to West Stream.
This is paradise,
the Peach Blossom Paradise.
The South Wind springs up,
scattering the green shade.
The oriole knows the season;
where did it come from?
I nod off on Emperor Xi's [72] pillow,
waken a moment later.
The balustrade, wet from the air,
floats in the water.
I don my hemp coat,
slant my kudzu hat,
contort my back
to get a look at the fish.
The night's rain has prompted
the red and white lotus to a fused blooming.
The whole mountain
is fragrant in the still air.
It's as if I were face to face with Zhou Tunyi,[73]
asking him about the ultimate principle,
as if the Immortals in Heaven
had unfolded the jade character before my eyes.
I'm looking across at Noja Rock,
Small Purple Rapids are to one side.
The spreading pine is my sunshade;
I sit down on the stony road.
In the world of men it's summer;
here it's autumn.
Ducks that floated on blue river water
have flown over to sit on white sands.
Friends with the white gulls,
they sleep as if time were an irrelevance,
so unwittingly at leisure
they remind me of the master here.
In the Fourth Watch, the moon rises
between the leaves of the paulownia;
a thousand cliffs, ten thousand gorges
are clear as day.
Who moved the Crystal Palace
from lakeside?
It's as if I had jumped across the Milky Way
and landed in the Moon Palace.
I push off from the fishing hole
at Twin Old Pines,
let the boat drift at will
in the current.
Red knotweed and white pondweed
line the river bank as I pass.
Blue Ring Hall [74] and the Dragon's Pool check
are right in front of the boat.
Boys feeding cattle
in the green of the river bank,
intoxicated by the mood,
play the short flute.
The dragon in the riverbed
may waken and surface at any moment;
herons, prodded by the mist,
may abandon their nests and take to the air.
Su Dongpo's Red Cliff
praises the seventh month;
everyone agrees on the glory
of the fifteenth day of the eighth month.[75]
Feather clouds are everywhere;
the water completely calm;
The moon in the sky
sits on top of the pine.
Remember Li Bai who drowned
trying to grab that moon.
A razor wind sweeps up the leaves
piled on bare mountain,
vexes the bundle