Thirteen Poems From My Southern Garden

Budding branches, stems of flowers, Blossom while I watch. Touched with white and streaked with crimson Cheeks fo a girl from Yue, Sad to say, once dusk has come, Their wanton fragrance falls. They have eloped with the spring wind, Without a go-between. Why shouldn't a young man wear a Wu sword?* He could win back fifty provinces in pass and mountain,** I wish you would visit the Ling-yan pavilion,*** How can a student ever become a rich marquis? * Wu-gou (Hook of Wu) was the name of a famous type of sword used by the southern aborigines. ** Over fifty Chinese districts in Ho-nan and Ho-pei were in the hands of tribal peoples at this time. *** The portraits found in the Ling-yan pavilion were those of military men who had aided Tang Tai-tsong in his truggle for power. VI Seeking a style, culling my phrases, Grown old carving grubs! At dawn the moon hangs in my blinds, A bow of jade. Can't you see what is going on, year after year, By the sea of Liao-dong? Whatever can a writer do But weep in the autumn wind?