300 Tang Dynasty Poems: #28 Setting Sail ...

One of the great works of Chinese literature, of World literature, is the famous anthology, the 300 Tang Dynasty Poems. The Tang dynasty was a golden age of culture in ancient China. Poetry was especially esteemed. There was never an occasion too small that it didn't deserve a poem.

If you click on the title of this post, you'll be directed to an online version of the 300 Tang Dynasty Poems. Below is #28. Enjoy.

Five-character-ancient-verse

Wei Yingwu

SETTING SAIL ON THE YANGZI
TO SECRETARY YUAN

Wistful, away from my friends and kin,
Through mist and fog I float and float
With the sail that bears me toward Loyang.
In Yangzhou trees linger bell-notes of evening,
Marking the day and the place of our parting....
When shall we meet again and where?
...Destiny is a boat on the waves,
Borne to and fro, beyond our will.

300 Tang Dynasty Poems: #27, ENTERTAINING LITERARY MEN IN MY

The Tang Dynasty was a high point of culture in China. Especially esteemed was the poetry of that era. No occasion was too small or unsuitable for a poem. 300 of the best poems from that era have been collected in a famous anthology entitled "The 300 Tang Dynasty Poems." If you click on the title of this post, you'll be directed to an online version. Below is #27. Enjoy.

Five-character-ancient-verse

Wei Yingwu

ENTERTAINING LITERARY MEN IN MY
OFFICIAL RESIDENCE ON A RAINY DAY

Outside are insignia, shown in state;
But here are sweet incense-clouds, quietly ours.
Wind and rain, coming in from sea,
Have cooled this pavilion above the lake
And driven the feverish heat away
From where my eminent guests are gathered.
...Ashamed though I am of my high position
While people lead unhappy lives,
Let us reasonably banish care
And just be friends, enjoying nature.
Though we have to go without fish and meat,
There are fruits and vegetables aplenty.
...We bow, we take our cups of wine,
We give our attention to beautiful poems.
When the mind is exalted, the body is lightened
And feels as if it could float in the wind.
...Suzhou is famed as a centre of letters;
And all you writers, coming here,
Prove that the name of a great land
Is made by better things than wealth.

Spring

Having cut the lawn,
A cold beer beckons to me.
Watching. Drinking. Rain.

松 The Grass Cutting Daoist

300 Tang Dynasty Poems: To the Tax Collectors ...

The Tang Dynasty was considered a cultural high point in China. Art, especially poetry was esteemed. No occasion was too small to be commemorated by a poem.

If you click on the title of this post, you'll be directed to an online version of a famous anthology, The 300 Tang Dynasty Poems.

Five-character-ancient-verse

Yuan Jie

TO THE TAX-COLLECTORS
AFTER THE BANDITS RETREAT

In the year Kuimao the bandits from Xiyuan entered Daozhou, set fire, raided, killed, and looted. The whole district was almost ruined. The next year the bandits came again and, attacking the neighbouring prefecture, Yong, passed this one by. It was not because we were strong enough to defend ourselves, but, probably, because they pitied us. And how now can these commissioners bear to impose extra taxes? I have written this poem for the collectors' information.

I still remember those days of peace --
Twenty years among mountains and forests,
The pure stream running past my yard,
The caves and valleys at my door.
Taxes were light and regular then,
And I could sleep soundly and late in the morning-
Till suddenly came a sorry change.
...For years now I have been serving in the army.
When I began here as an official,
The mountain bandits were rising again;
But the town was so small it was spared by the thieves,
And the people so poor and so pitiable
That all other districts were looted
And this one this time let alone.
...Do you imperial commissioners
Mean to be less kind than bandits?
The people you force to pay the poll
Are like creatures frying over a fire.
And how can you sacrifice human lives,
Just to be known as able collectors? --
...Oh, let me fling down my official seal,
Let me be a lone fisherman in a small boat
And support my family on fish and wheat
And content my old age with rivers and lakes!

Tang Dynasty Poems, #25: ASCENDING THE PAGODA AT THE TEMPLE OF KIND

The 300 Tang Dynasty Poems anthology is considered a classic of world literature. If you click on the title of this post, you'll be directed to an on line version.

From that website:

"In Chinese literature, the Tang period (618-907) is considered the golden age of Chinese poetry. Tang Shi San Bai Shou [300 Tang Poems] is a compilation of poems from this period made around 1763 by Heng-tang-tui-shi [Sun Zhu] of the Qing dynasty. ...

...Nearly every Chinese household owns a copy of Tang Shi and poems from it are still included in textbooks and to be memorized by students. We would like to make this World Wide Web version of the poems as a testimony to its compiler's intent : " Learning Tang poems three hundred by heart, you can chant poems though you know not the art ."

ASCENDING THE PAGODA AT THE TEMPLE OF KIND
FAVOUR WITH GAO SHI AND XUE JU

The pagoda, rising abruptly from earth,
Reaches to the very Palace of Heaven....
Climbing, we seem to have left the world behind us,
With the steps we look down on hung from space.
It overtops a holy land
And can only have been built by toil of the spirit.
Its four sides darken the bright sun,
Its seven stories cut the grey clouds;
Birds fly down beyond our sight,
And the rapid wind below our hearing;
Mountain-ranges, toward the east,
Appear to be curving and flowing like rivers;
Far green locust-trees line broad roads
Toward clustered palaces and mansions;
Colours of autumn, out of the west,
Enter advancing through the city;
And northward there lie, in five graveyards,
Calm forever under dewy green grass,
Those who know life's final meaning
Which all humankind must learn.
...Henceforth I put my official hat aside.
To find the Eternal Way is the only happiness.

The Classic of Tea

If you click on the title of this post, you'll be directed to the Wikipedia article on The Classic of Tea. Enjoy.

Huang Pu Zheng's poem about Lu Yu

Saw Lu Yu off to Pick Tea
Thousand mountains greeted my departing friend
When spring tea blossoming again
With indepth knowledge in picking tea
Through morning mist or crimson evening clouds
His solitary journey is my envy
Rendezvous in a temple of a remote mountain
We enjoyed picnic by a clear pebble fountain
In this silent night
Lit up a candle light
I knocked a marble bell for chime
While deep in thought for old time.

Tang Dynasty Poems, #24: AT WANG CHANGLIN' S RETREAT

The Tang Dynasty was considered a high point in Chinese culture. The best poetry of that age was compiled into an anthology entitled, the 300 Tang Dynasty Poems. If you click on the title of this post, you'll be directed to an online version of the anthology. Below is #24. Enjoy.

Five-character-ancient-verse

Chang Jian

AT WANG CHANGLIN' S RETREAT

Here, beside a clear deep lake,
You live accompanied by clouds;
Or soft through the pine the moon arrives
To be your own pure-hearted friend.
You rest under thatch in the shadow of your flowers,
Your dewy herbs flourish in their bed of moss.
Let me leave the world. Let me alight, like you,
On your western mountain with phoenixes and cranes.

Tang Dynasty Poems, #23: A BOAT IN SPRING ON RUOYA LAKE

The Tang Dynasty was a Golden Age of Culture in China. Art, especially Poetry, was revered.

During the Tang Dynasty, no occasion was too small or mundane to merit a poem. I mentioned this to a friend once, who responded, "what a lovely way to live."

Thinking about yesterday's post, maybe we could learn something from them.

If you click on the title of this post, you'll be directed to an online version of the famous anthology, The 300 Tang Dynasty Poems.

If not poetry, maybe we should take a page from the Ming Dynasty scholar, Li Ri Hua who said:

One should clean out a room in one's home and place only a tea table and a chair in the room with some boiled water and fragrant tea. Afterwards, sit salutarily and allow one's spirit to become tranquil, light, and natural.

#23 A BOAT IN SPRING ON RUOYA LAKE

Five-character-ancient-verse

Qiwu Qian

A BOAT IN SPRING ON RUOYA LAKE

Thoughtful elation has no end:
Onward I bear it to whatever come.
And my boat and I, before the evening breeze
Passing flowers, entering the lake,
Turn at nightfall toward the western valley,
Where I watch the south star over the mountain
And a mist that rises, hovering soft,
And the low moon slanting through the trees;
And I choose to put away from me every worldly matter
And only to be an old man with a fishing-pole.

300 Tang dynasty Poems: #22 After Missing the Recluse On The Western Mountain

The Tang Dynasy was a golden age of culture in China. Poetry was especially esteemed. Some of the very best from that era was gathered into a famous anthology, The 300 Tang Dynasty Poems. If you click on the title ofthis post, you'll be directed to an online version. Below is #22. Enjoy.

Five-character-ancient-verse
Qiu Wei
AFTER MISSING THE RECLUSE ON THE WESTERN MOUNTAIN

To your hermitage here on the top of the mountain

I have climbed, without stopping, these ten miles.

I have knocked at your door, and no one answered;

I have peeped into your room, at your seat beside the table.

Perhaps you are out riding in your canopied chair,

Or fishing, more likely, in some autumn pool.

Sorry though I am to be missing you,

You have become my meditation --

The beauty of your grasses, fresh with rain,

And close beside your window the music of your pines.

I take into my being all that I see and hear,

Soothing my senses, quieting my heart;

And though there be neither host nor guest,

Have I not reasoned a visit complete?

...After enough, I have gone down the mountain.

Why should I wait for you any longer?

Another Empty Chair

My mother is just short of her 86th birthday. She's had a long and full life.

She was a great story teller. She loved to tell stories about when she was young, during the Great Depression.

Even how she got her name, Stephanie, was a story. She was the youngest of her sisters. One of her older sisters was named Stephanie. When my Mom was born, my grandfather had been drinking, and really like the name, so... He had two Stephanies.

Eventually, the older one came to be known by Stella, and my Mom retained Stephanie.

Remember those old "Little Rascals" film clips? According to her, they could have been a documentary. For example, every time the dog catcher parked his truck on their street, he would be sure to find flat tires, his battery missing, and all the dogs released.

... then there was the time when she was 12, and got into a fist fight with a nun. Apparantly, she had no fear of authority figures from an early age.

Up until the very end, anything she set her hands to became a work of art. She painted fine china, made Dresden porcelain dolls, and even recently crocheted a beautiful dress for my little niece.

What she was known for, however, was dressmaking. Dressmaking is the more common term, but what she did would more properly be known as courtier work. Courtier work is characterized by the attention to fine detail and workmanship.

Her mother died when my Mom was very young. She found her mother's sewing machine in the attic, and taught herself how to sew.

She had a bridal shop, Stephanie's, on Joy Rd, in Detroit, for decades. A common story would be for her to have made a baptism gown for a little girl, who would come back a few years later for a communion dress, then a prom dress, then finally a wedding gown. A few years after that, that same young woman would be ordering a baptism gown for her own child.

If someone came in and said that the price was no object, my Mom would take them at their word; but she couldn't help outfitting a less wealthy bride whom she liked far beyond what she could pay, or even for nothing.

She made a lot of dresses at the store, but not a lot of money.

My Mom's knack for creativity has found it's way down to my two daughters.

And of course, with the store, comes more stories. My favorite one involved a motorcycle gang who had moved into the adjoinging building, whom she sort of adopted; or maybe they adopted her.

One day, a young punk came into the bridal shop, and what he intended was to intimidate my Mom and shake her down, along with the ladies who worked there, for whatever cash they had on hand.

My Mom could think pretty quickly on her feet and started speaking to him in Polish, pretending she didn't understand him; while telling one of the ladies (in Polish) to go out the back door and get "the boys."

Well, the boys showed up. The next thing he heard was "why don't you come with us." They escorted him out, and he never came back.

She loved entering sweepstakes and contests. When she first started, I was in high school, and she won a trip to Chicago to have lunch with Alex Karras and watch the Lions play the Bears. After that early success, she was hooked.

There were plenty of contests she didn't win, and she had her share of t shirts and baseball caps, but she won a lot of really nice stuff too. An entertainment center, some trips; in fact, I got to see the Olympics in Montreal, in 1976, because of a contest she won.

Trips were her favorite prize. She loved to travel. She had been to Europe several times, she cruised up the Alaskan Inside Passage several times - once she was travelling alone, and signed up to blindly share a cabin with a stranger chosen at random. She ended up with a hooker who was on vacation. I bet she had some stories.

She's been to Australia twice, and even rode a camel in North Africa.

She took some of her nieces on a couple of trips, and I think it invluenced one of them to go on and work in the travel industry. Today, she works for an airline.

I think perhaps the strangest thing she won was breakfast cereal. Lots of it.

One day the doorbell range, and UPS deliverd a case of cereal. The next day it rang again, and we got another case. After that, we didn't want to answer the door anymore.

I thought we were all set for birthday and Christmas gifts, but my wife thought we should donate it to the Capuchin Soup Kitchen, and so we did.

Up until a few months ago, she was still cranking out those contest entries. It didn't matter what she won, she just liked winning something.

... and she loved dogs. The only bigger dog lover might have been my Dad.

When they lived in Detroit, they had a neighbor who had several dogs, but took wretched care of them.

So - she just took one dog away from them and wouldn't give it back. For another one, she found another home - my sister in law and her husband, and placed it there. That little dog thought he had died and gone to Heaven.

It wasn't all fun and games though. She had quite a few rough spots in her life.

Before the US entered into WWII, many Americans enlisted in the Canadian Army to go fight in Europe. She married one of them, 2 weeks before he was to ship out with the Canadian Commandos.

She never saw him again. She was a widow at 20.

She married my Dad, the next door neighbor, after the war. I'm the youngest of three sons. My brothers came along right away, there was a big gap, then I was born.

My oldest brother died in a car accident when he was 21. I was only 10, but I can still remember what a blow it was to her.

About 15 years ago, out of the blue, by Dad had a heart attack and died shortly after. Almost 3 months to the day later, my other brother died as a result of a gun accident.

My Mom moved in with her sister, and best friend, Helen.

Almost 10 years ago, my Mom had her first stroke. The main damage she suffered was to the part of the brain that connects where a thought originates, and where it is expressed. Basically, she couldn't speak or even write her thoughts. It was terribly frustrating, especially to her, as social as she was, but she adapted.

A few months after that, she fell and broke her hip. While she was in the hospital, I had to tell her that her sister, her best friend Helen, died of a massive heart attack.

She moved into an assisted living home where she stayed for several years. While there, I had to bring her the news that her favorite neice died of cancer.

A couple of years ago, as a result of her not being able to quite take care of herself adequately, and her having developed diabetes, she moved into a nursing home.

On Wednesday, she had another stroke. A big one. Today they moved her into hospice.

The reason I bring all of this up, is because no matter what she went through, no matter how small her world became, or what new restrictions were placed on her, she simply loved her life.

She appreciated her life. She simply didn't have it in her to complain. She didn't have any room or use for it.

If she taught me anything, it was from her example. She accepted whatever life brought her - "They will be done" - and made the very best of it.

She could daydream and imagine along with the best of them, but she never forgot that all the "would haves, could haves, should haves" don't add up to a hill of beans.

You life is what you choose to make of it.

Even towards the end, when she was restricted to bed rest and could do little else but read and watch TV, She found a reason to get up every morning and look forward to the day.

She appreciated her life, and she appreciated the people who came into it, in whatever way.

I was talking to some of the workers at the nursing home, and they told me how even though she couldn't speak, how appreciated she made them feel for coming in and doing their jobs to take care of her. Every day. Every time. Without fail.

If my Mom could speak for herself, she'd want to thank everyone. She can't, so I will. Thank you.

Good bye, Mom. We'll miss you.

----------------------------

Empty Chairs

A table full of empty chairs,
Reminders of Christmas past.
The children were too young to know
That's where Grandpa used to sit.
The brother who couldn't make the flight.
Close cousins becoming strangers.
The daughter with her friends,
the son at his in-laws house.
The party becoming smaller, quieter.
The children grown,
their table put away.
They have lives of their own,
each has a full house...and not enough chairs.

松

Cardinal at my Window

I live in Michigan. It's snowing.





My office is on the second floor of our building, an the treetops come up to the level of my windows.





Sitting outside is a cardinal, just sitting; watching. For myself, I could sit and watch him all day.



まどの外はこうかんちょうにまっています。
雪ふってありまうｓ。
じむじょのうちは見ています。。。

mado no soto wa koukanchou ni matte imasu.
yuki futte arimasu.
jimujo no uchi wa mite imasu...

A cardinal waits outside the window.
Snow is falling.
Inside my office, I watch...

松

300 Tang Dynasty Poems: #21 With My Brother ...

The Tang Dynasty was a high point in Chinese culture. Poetry was especially esteemed. No event in a person's life, no homecoming or leavetaking, was complete without an accompanying poem. There is a famous anthology of Tang Dynasty poems called, surprisingly enough, The 300 Tang Dynasty Poems. If you click on the title of this post, you'll be directed to an online version of the anthology. Below is #21. Enjoy.

Five-character-ancient-verse

Wang Changling

WITH MY BROTHER AT THE SOUTH STUDY THINKING IN THE MOONLIGHT OF VICE-PREFECT CUI IN SHANYIN

Lying on a high seat in the south study,

We have lifted the curtain-and we see the rising moon

Brighten with pure light the water and the grove

And flow like a wave on our window and our door.

It will move through the cycle, full moon and then crescent again,

Calmly, beyond our wisdom, altering new to old.

...Our chosen one, our friend, is now by a limpid river --

Singing, perhaps, a plaintive eastern song.

He is far, far away from us, three hundred miles away.

And yet a breath of orchids comes along the wind.

The Waiting Pinetree

Further adventures in the study of Japanese.

Previously, I've mentioned that my Japanese collegues pronounce my last name, Matz, as Ma-tsu. Matsu means "Pinetree" (松). It turns out that Matsu also is the verb, "to wait" (待つ).

Matsu matte imasu. (松　待って　います。) means "The waiting pinetree."

Matte, matsu ...
待って、松。。。
Waiting, the pinetree...

300 Tang Dynasty Poems: #20 AT THE MOUNTAIN-LODGE OF THE BUDDHIST PRIEST YE

The Tang Dynasty was a high point of culture in the history of China. All forms of art were esteemed, especially poetry. No occasion; no homecoming or leaving taking, no celebration, no event of any consequence was complete without a poem to accompany it.

Some of the best poems of that era has been compiled into a well known anthology, The 300 Tang Dynasty Poems. If you click on the title of this post, you'll be directed to an online version of this classic work of art. Poem #20 follows.

Five-character-ancient-verse
Meng Haoran
AT THE MOUNTAIN-LODGE OF THE BUDDHIST PRIEST YE WAITING IN VAIN FOR MY FRIEND DING

Now that the sun has set beyond the western range,
Valley after valley is shadowy and dim....
And now through pine-trees come the moon and the chill of evening,
And my ears feel pure with the sound of wind and water
Nearly all the woodsmen have reached home,
Birds have settled on their perches in the quiet mist....

And still -- because you promised -- I am waiting for you, waiting,
Playing lute under a wayside vine.

Autumn Leaves

Raking the leaves.
Imposing an order,
Leaves or me?

- Pinetree (松)

The Poet Ryokan

Ryōkan (良寛, Ryōkan?) was a Zen Buddhist monk who lived in Niigata Japan 1758-1831. He soon left the monastery, where practice was frequently quite lax, and lived as a hermit until he was very old and had to move into the house of one of his supporters.

My legacy --
What will it be?
Flowers in spring,
The cuckoo in summer,
And the crimson maples
Of autumn...

Haiku site

"Awakened at midnight
by the sound of the water jar
cracking from the ice"

If you click on the title of this post, you'll be directed to a website that has all SORTs of scholarly information about haiku. History, themes, interviews with haiku masters. If you are interested in this form of poetry, please pay a visit.

Diving into Fall

Butterfly or leaf?
Early twilight fools my eyes
Moving into fall.
- Pinetree

Fall is my favorite time of year. I look forward to having a campfire in the backyard, while enjoying the cooler evenings. I enjoy the change of colors, with which Michigan is particularly blessed.

I'm rereading the Baroque Cycle, a trilogy by Neal Stephenson, which is historical fiction about a fascinating time in history.

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=br_ss_hs/102-4051305-2994513?platform=gurupa&url=index%3Dstripbooks%3Arelevance-above&keywords=baroque+cycle

Reading about the baroque period in the fall, brings to mind the story of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. The movie, Sleepy Hollow, with Winona Ryder and Johnny Depp is usually on cable around this time of year, at least as we approach Halloween.

Halloween wouldn't be complete without one of the greatest horror movies of all time, Dracula, starring Bela Lugosi. The scene where Dracula and Van Helsing simply face off against each other, without a word being said, has got to be one of the best moments in movie history.

Did you know that while they were shooting this movie, they were also shooting, at the same time, a Spanish version? When the English speaking crew left the studio at the end of the day, the Spanish crew arrived. They had the benefit of the rushes of the day's shoot to improve their own product, and some critics believe the Spanish version is actually the superior one. I would like to see it one day.

The movie of course, isn't enough. I have to reread Dracula, by Bram Stoker before Halloween.

http://www.amazon.com/Dracula-Penguin-Classics-Bram-Stoker/dp/014143984X/sr=1-3/qid=1158979120/ref=pd_bbs_3/102-4051305-2994513?ie=UTF8&s=books

Another newer classic is Bram Stoker's Dracula, starring Winona Ryder (again), Gary Oldfield, and Anthony Hopkins. I like it almost as much as the original.

Halloween. We take the portable firepit out to the driveway, put some music on the radio in the garage, stock a cooler with beer, and pass out the candy. A couple of neighbors have adopted this practice. When the kids stop coming, we gather around whoever's fire is still going the strongest, and have our own little get together.

My Japanese Language study has progressed. This is the character for autumn: 秋. It is a compound of two characters. The one on the left is a plant (specifically a rice plant), while the one on the right is 'fire'. Interesting, huh?

I've finished the online course I was taking. While I was grinding through the course, I was paying attention mostly to grammar and sentence patterns. I didn't pay so much attention to vocabulary or conjugating verbs or adjectives. I reasoned that I could always look things up, and what I looked up a lot, I'd remember.

Right now, I'm doing a thorough review, at a leisurely pace; paying a lot more attention to the vocabulary, verbs and adjectives.

I also have learned 240 kanji. I'm doing a very thorough review of them. Once I review the ones I know, I'll start grinding through the other 2000+ a literate person would know.

I have a couple of "learn Japanese" books. I intend to study these soon. It'll be the same information I've already received through the course, but it'll be presented a little differently. I think if I go over the same information, but in a slightly different way, I'm likely to understand and retain it better.

What I'm going to do soon, is to start to read Japanese literature. I've picked up two books: Breaking into Japanese Literature by Giles Murray

http://www.amazon.com/o/ASIN/4770028997/ref=s9_asin_title_1/102-4051305-2994513

And Read Real Japanese by Janet Ashby

http://www.amazon.com/Read-Real-Japanese-Contemporary-Writers/dp/4770029365/ref=pd_sim_b_1/102-4051305-2994513?ie=UTF8

Each of these books is a collection of short stories. The beginning ones are easier, and the later ones are harder. Each has the original Japanese text on one page, the translation on the facing page, and a running dictionary for the kanji and less than common words along the bottom.

One of the stories I'm looking forward to reading is "The Grove" which was the story that inspired the movie Rashomon, by Akira Kurosawa. The story is interesting. A samurai is killed, and a suspect is apprehended. The suspect describes what happened from his point of view. The samurai's wife then gives her description, through the use of a medium, the victim tells his story, then finally a previously unknown eye witness describes what he saw happen.

300 Tang Dynasty Poems: #19 IN SUMMER AT THE SOUTH PAVILION

The Tang Dynasty was a high point of art and culture in old China. Poetry was particularly esteemed. If you click on the title of this post, you'll be directed to an online version of The 300 Tang Dynasty Poems, an anthology of some of the very best poems of that era.

Five-character-ancient-verse
Meng Haoran
IN SUMMER AT THE SOUTH PAVILION THINKING OF XING

The mountain-light suddenly fails in the west,
In the east from the lake the slow moon rises.
I loosen my hair to enjoy the evening coolness
And open my window and lie down in peace.
The wind brings me odours of lotuses,
And bamboo-leaves drip with a music of dew....
I would take up my lute and I would play,
But, alas, who here would understand?
And so I think of you, old friend,
O troubler of my midnight dreams !

Finally, a cool evening

A cool evening. A full moon. A campfire.

Standing
Around, doing
Nothing, on the patio
Under a full moon, at nearly

Midnight.