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Hung, Han


After the Day of No Fire

Petals of spring fly all through the city
From Wind in the willows of the Imperial River.
And at dusk, from the palace, candles are given out
To light first the mansions of the Five Great Lords.

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An Autumn Evening
Harmonizing Ch'eng Chin's Poem

While a cold wind is creeping under my mat,
And the city's naked wall grows pale with he autumn moon,
I see a lone wildgoose crossing the River of Stars,
And I hear, on stone in the night, thousands of washing-mallets. . .
But, instead of wishing the season, as it goes,
To bear me also far away,
I have found your poem so beautiful
That I forget the homing birds.

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Inscribed in the Temple of the Wandering Genie

I face, high over this enchanted lodge, the Court of the Five Cities of Heaven,
And I see a countryside blue and still, after the long rain.
The distant peaks and trees of Ch'in merge into twilight,
And Han Palace washing-stones make their autumnal echoes.
Thin pine-shadows brush the outdoor pulpit,
And grasses blow their fragrance into my little cave.
. . . Who need be craving a world beyond this one?
Here, among men, are the Purple Hills!