孟郊诗
Poems of Meng Jiao
Index
吊房十五次卿少府
Mourning Fang Fifteen, who had become Imperial Treasurer
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日高方得起 独赏些些春 可惜宛转莺 好音与他人 |
Sun is high. I should get up and Admire alone a bit of spring, Cherish the circling warblers, the Good news, and all those people. |
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昔年此气味 还走曲江滨 逢著韩退之 结交方殷勤 |
In years gone by, this fragrance would Have me wandering down to the river bank Where I would meet Han Yu (the stubborn) And we'd enjoy like-minded friends. |
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蜀客骨目高 聪辩剑戟新 如何昨日欢 今日见无因 |
Down in Sichuan, idealistic, making Clever arguments with well-honed wits. How could those days be so joyful When today makes so little sense? |
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英奇一谢世 视听一为尘 谁言老泪短 泪短沾衣巾 |
The wonderful ones are all dying, their Sights and sounds going down to dust. Who said the old shed few tears when These few tears a soaking my clothes? |
-- 孟郊
废话
Fang Fifteen must be one of Han Yu's coterie of idealists. The "fifteen" means he's the fifteenth in line for being family head of the Fangs. Or was, until he passed away.
Fifteen is also the number of days I have left with Meng Jiao. I've already been with Meng Jiao a few days longer than it took me to learn Chinese in the first place. Fourteen months spent working through the Defense Language Institute's and the Foreign Service Institute's Mandarin courses. About five semesters of college Chinese. Four or more hours a day, seven days a week. Meng Jiao's been about the same.
There are eleven more poems now. Only eleven. Nine short and two long. It is nice that the last poem is the longest remaining, four days of translation to make a lingering farewell. Then, I imagine, I too will have a few tears to stain my clothes.