NOCTURNAL OF CHINA: Where the ice crystals fill the sky, begging you to not wait to take a stem blight

NIGHT THOUGHTS – Li Bai

In front of my bed the moon illuminates the earth

As reflections of frost.

I look up to the shining moon,

then bowed his head: my land is far away.

 

MOORING AT NIGHT BRIDGE MAPLE – Zhang Ji

The moon sets,

ice crystals fill the sky,

cry of a crow.

In the river a maple fire fishing

sad image of my sleepless night.

From the Temple Han Shan, out of town,

in the deep night comes to my boat

a bell sound.

 

SPRING MORNING – Bai Ju Yi

It is spring, sleep and do not feel the morning coming.

Wherever you hate birds sing.

On the night noises coming from rain and wind.

Who knows how many flowers will fall?

 

THE GOLDEN DRESS – Du Qiu Niang

Do not try clothes from gold thread

But it grabs the time of youth.

You can take the flower in its bloom,

do not wait to tighten a stem blight.

 

 

THE HARP PRECIOUS – Li Shangyin

Cetra valuable, because fifty strings?

Each string, each bridge, a year of youth recalled.

Zhuang when he wakes up confused itself into a butterfly, enigma of existence.

Wangdi changed in cuckoo in spring and entrusted him with her ​​crying.

Pearl as a tear in the deep sea to shining moon,

land of jade color of the sun exhales a smoke.

How much longer this feeling to become a memory?

Only this time now lost.

 

WATER DEAD – Wen Yi Duo

This is the ditch water putrid and despair,

not a breath of the cool breeze ruffles.

Better to throw even ferracci rusty and copper pieces,

and without remorse even the leftovers of the meal.

Perhaps the copper pieces they want to become as green as jade,

and tin cans embroidering a few petals of peach blossom;

let the anointed tessa on a damask fabric,

and mold bait evaporating a rosy cloud.

Let the standing water becomes a pearl;

laughing small pearls are transformed into a large pearl,

stolen and broken by the attack of the midges.

And ‘the ditch of despair dead water,

also Riec to advance a bit ‘of clear water.

If the frog is not Riec to endure loneliness,

perhaps stagnant water comes out a croak.

This is the ditch water putrid and despair,

Here is not the place of beauty,

then it is best that the wicked come to the plow,

and we will see that the world will be able to pull it off.