孟郊诗

Poems of Meng Jiao


Index

连州吟

Lianzhou Chant


春风朝夕起
吹绿日日深
试为连州吟
泪下不可禁

Spring breezes blow morning and night,
Day by day bowing everything greener.
Try this Lianzhou chant.
I can't stand all these tears.

连山何连连
连天碧岑岑
哀猿哭花死
子规裂客心

Lian hills go on and on.
Lian sky blue, immense.
Gibbons cry over the falling flowers.
Cuckoo's cry breaks a traveler's heart.

兰芷结新佩
潇湘遗旧音
怨声能翦弦
坐抚零落琴

Orchids, irises make new blossoms.
Chu's waters offer their ancient tones.
Their sad sounds can break these strings
As I try to comfort myself with my qin.

羽翼不自有
相追力难任
唯凭方寸灵
独夜万里寻

Wings are something I don't have.
I go as far as my strength takes me.
I only lean on the mind divine.
Alone, at night, seeking it everywhere.

方寻魂飘飖
南梦山岖嶔
仿佛惊魍魉
悉窣闻枫林

I seek that place where my spirit is free.
Southern dreams in lofty mountains.
It seems I've startled demons and monsters
Who are rustling in the maple groves.

正直被放者
鬼魅无所侵
贤人多安排
俗士多虚钦

Certainly, with enlightenment,
The forest demons go away.
Virtuous men achieve great peace
Which common scholars humbly admire.

孤怀吐明月
众毁铄黄金
愿君保玄曜
壮志无自沉

My lonely heart speaks to the moon:
The multitudes are destroyed by gold.
But protect my mysterious light.
Strengthen my unselfed desires.

朝亦连州吟
暮亦连州吟
连州果有信
一纸万里心

Mornings chanting this Lianzhou chant.
Evenings chanting this Lianzhou chant.
Lianzhou's fruit is faith,
A heart unspoiled and immense.

开缄白云断
明月堕衣襟
南风嘶舜琯
苦竹动猿音

Seal broken, white clouds part.
Moonlight shines on my lapels.
South wind plays the sage king's flute.
Bitter bamboo moves with the gibbons.

万里愁一色
潇湘雨淫淫
两剑忽相触
双蛟恣浮沉

Ten thousand miles and always the same sadness.
Chu's rain goes ever on and on.
Two swords suddenly clash.
Two dragons play down in the depths.

斗水正回斡
倒流安可禁
空愁江海信
惊浪隔相寻

Every measure of this river will return.
I should go home for peace that will endure.
Emptied of worries, the river trusts the sea.
As the mighty waves then meet and part.

-- 孟郊


废话

Meng Jiao is either writing this for himself or for someone close. Maybe for his second wife-to-be (or already-is). Not only does he love the wilderness for its excitement. He loves it for its monumental peace. It is hard for those in a secular age to imagine a spiritual life beyond vague notions of monks sprawling on the floor in front of stone Madonnas and weird bearded men sitting on pillars in the desert. Meng Jiao leads a profoundly natural and spiritual life, which he has found expression for in Buddhism. Since his early declaration of Buddhist faith, his poems have had no Daoist taint. He's in it for the full monty. (Not the naked one. Look it up.) His faith permeates his poetry. So does his drinking and the rest of his humanity. His spirituality makes him more of a man than materiality can. And the expressions of his spiritual nature are these 381 poems that have endured from his time until ours.


Index