孟郊诗

Poems of Meng Jiao


Index

看花

Regarding Flowers


家家有芍药
不妨至温柔
温柔一同女
红笑笑不休

Every house has peonies.
They're harmless, tender and soft.
Tender and soft, like a woman.
Red smiles, smiling without cease.

月娥双双下
楚艳枝枝浮
洞里逢仙人
绰约青宵游

Moon Beauties, falling in pairs.
Chu's beauty, stirring on every branch.
In dark places, we meet immortals,
Beautiful women wandering in the night.

芍药谁为婿
人人不敢来
唯应待诗老
日日殷勤开

Peonies, who will be their husband?
No one dares approach to ask.
Lonely, they wait for a poem like this,
As every day they eagerly open.

玉立无气力
春凝且裴徊
将何谢青春
痛饮一百杯

Slender and graceful, without strength.
Swelling in the spring, then lingering on.
What if they were to wither in youth?
One would sadly drink a hundred cups.

芍药吹欲尽
无奈晓风何
馀花欲谁待
唯待谏郎过

Peonies wish the wind would cease,
Helpless in morning's strong breeze.
Even more they wish someone would linger.
Only then can they chastise their suitors.

谏郎不事俗
黄金买高歌
高歌夜更清
花意晚更多

Admonishing suitors is not a common thing.
Gold buys hearty singing.
With hearty singing, night becomes clear.
Thoughts of flowers increase as it grows late.

饮之不见底
醉倒深红波
红波荡谏心
谏心终无它

Drinkers don't see where they are going
And fall down drunk in deep red waves.
Waves of blossoms calm the chastened heart.
Heart chastened in the end without its other.

独游终难醉
挈榼徒经过
问花不解语
劝得酒无多

Traveling alone, hard to get drunk.
Bringing wine along is just a waste.
I ask the flowers -- can't understand the answer.
Encourages me to drink a little less.

三年此村落
春色入心悲
料得一孀妇
经时独泪垂

Three years, I'm stuck here in this village.
Thoughts of women come to this sad heart.
Thinking mostly of a certain widow
With a tear falling slowly down my face.

-- 孟郊


废话

Willow-branchless woman again. A certain widow. This is the second poem that suggests that the woman who wasn't sorry to see him go, who he can't get over, was an older woman, a widow. He misses his wife as well in this poem. It must be her withering in her youth and causing one hundred wine cups to be consumed. Meng Jiao is probably stuck in some small town here, near the beginning of his official career. He hasn't remarried apparently. A private poem, I think.


Index