Poems of Zhang Xu
Bright green misty branches gently stroke the ground.
Spring thoughts come by towered shore just outside of town.
I ask you to read carefully these dissipated lines.
Poet powers from my palace days are still just fine.
An answer-poem in response to some friend's poem received, I think. And, as an excuse for my rhyming, pretty much in the spirit of this translation. Zhang Xu is a clever man, a heavy drinker, a smasher of icons. The first line is as conventional as can be. The second gives no warning of what follows. The rest is as you find it here. I am sorry we have only six and not six hundred of his poems. Although, it occurs to me that his poems, if found by most people, would have been tossed out as nonsense squiggles on fine paper. The danger of pushing the calligrapher's envelope.