[45] PARTING FROM THE WINTER STOVE

[A.D. 822]

    On the fifth day after the rise of Spring,
    Everywhere the season’s gracious altitudes! 
    The white sun gradually lengthening its course,
    The blue-grey clouds hanging as though they would fall;
    The last icicle breaking into splinters of jade;
    The new stems marshalling red sprouts. 
    The things I meet are all full of gladness;
    It is not only I who love the Spring. 
    To welcome the flowers I stand in the back garden;
    To enjoy the sunlight I sit under the front eaves. 
    Yet still in my heart there lingers one regret;
    Soon I shall part with the flame of my red stove!

[46] GOOD-BYE TO THE PEOPLE OF HANGCHOW

[A.D. 824]

    Elders and officers line the returning road;
    Wine and soup load the parting table. 
    I have not ruled you with the wisdom of Shao Kung;[1]
    What is the reason your tears should fall so fast? 
    My taxes were heavy, though many of the people were poor;
    The farmers were hungry, for often their fields were dry. 
    All I did was to dam the water of the Lake[2]
    And help a little in a year when things were bad.

[1] A legendary ruler who dispensed justice sitting under a wild pear-tree.

[2] Po Chuu-i built the dam on the Western Lake which is still known as “Po’s dam.”

[47] WRITTEN WHEN GOVERNOR OF SOOCHOW

[A.D. 825]

    A Government building, not my own home. 
    A Government garden, not my own trees. 
    But at Lo-yang I have a small house
    And on Wei River I have built a thatched hut. 
    I am free from the ties of marrying and giving in marriage;
    If I choose to retire, I have somewhere to end my days. 
    And though I have lingered long beyond my time,
    To retire now would be better than not at all!

[48] GETTING UP EARLY ON A SPRING MORNING

[Part of a poem written when Governor of Soochow in 825]

    The early light of the rising sun shines on the beams of my house;
    The first banging of opened doors echoes like the roll of a drum. 
    The dog lies curled on the stone step, for the earth is wet with dew;
    The birds come near to the window and chatter, telling that the day
        is fine. 
    With the lingering fumes of yesterday’s wine my head is still heavy;
    With new doffing of winter clothes my body has grown light.

[49] LOSING A SLAVE-GIRL

[Date uncertain]

Around my garden the little wall is low;
In the bailiff’s lodge the lists are seldom checked. 
I am ashamed to think we were not always kind;
I regret your labours, that will never be repaid. 
The caged bird owes no allegiance;
The wind-tossed flower does not cling to the tree.