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256 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 770
Unlike a work of literature, translation does not find itself in the centre of the language forest but on the outside facing the wooded ridge; it calls into it without entering, aiming at that single spot where the echo is able to give, in its own language, the reverberation of the work in the alien one.
NIGHT THOUGHTS AFLOAT
By bent grasses
in a gentle wind
Under straight mast
I'm alone tonight,
And the stars hang
above the broad plain
But moon's afloat
in this Great River:
Oh, where's my name
among the poets?
Official rank?
'retired for ill-health.'
Drifting, drifting,
what am I more than
A single gull
between sky and earth?
---Du Fu
QUIET NIGHT THOUGHTS
Before my bed
there is bright moonlight
So that it seems
like frost on the ground:
Lifting my head
I watch the bright moon,
Lowering my head
I dream that I'm home.
---Li Bai
ABANDON
With wine I sit
absent to Night, till
(Fallen petals
in folds of my gown)
I stagger up
to stalk the brook's moon:
The birds are gone
and people are few!
---Li Bai
FROM A HEIGHT
The winds cut, clouds are high,
apes wail their sorrows,
The ait is fresh, sand white,
birds fly in circles;
On all sides fallen leaves
go rustling, rustling,
While ceaseless river waves
come rippling, rippling:
Autumn's each faded mile
seems like my journey
To mount, alone and ill,
to this balcony;
Life's failures and regrets
frosting my temples,
And wretched that I've had
to give up drinking.