Poems of Meng Jiao
With a few friends, on an autumn night, conversing quietly in someone's courtyard.
Somewhere, not far from the hills --
Right here, these feelings of parting again.
A monk strikes a ringing bowl and
Seven more chant beneath an autumn moon.
Dashing on rocks, a spring's pure tune.
In the branches, the wind's sad howl.
It comes to me that everywhere is peaceful
And, all at once, I feel my burdens vanish.
I pause and reach out for the truth --
All night long, how can I desist?
Good people, come quietly to rest
In a beautiful hall, filled with praise.
And outpouring of music and wine and
Of poetry sung together in harmony.
You can only praise such harmony of spirit.
Such grace and favor cannot be commanded.
It is as if Han Xin's old poem, Kunjiqu,
Pulsed again in the hearts of heroes.
Our first glimpse waits on someone understanding
That a new age comes from those who bring it.
I want to speak of this gathering of friends, as
I don't know if all your goodness will return.
This poem shows Meng Jiao's thought as spiritual. And by spiritual, I mean that which demonstrates a higher understanding. It is above both religion and intellectualism, while including what is correct in both. This poem apprehends the world in all its aspects and maintains the individuality of the poet. It is, to me, an extraordinary accomplishment. 佩服. 佩服.