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Han Hung
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.
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.
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!
