xxiii-01 i talk with yuan dan qiu about the dao in the fang cheng monastery and write this verse
xxiii-02 i visit yuan dan qiu in his cell on shi min mountain where the hermit gao feng lived in han times
xxiii-03 i enjoy the coolness standing by the tower of the prajna monastery in an zhou
i am there to meet with secretary xue yi
xxiii-04 on the eastern tower of zhong du xian in shan dong i was drunk.
after awakening i wrote this poem
xxiii-05 i plan to get drunk at the banquet and write this verse on the walls of the district courtyard of judge qu tu
xxiii-06 in the moonlight i drink alone (1 of 4)
xxiii-07 in the moonlight i drink alone (2 of 4)
xxiii-08 in the moonlight i drink alone (3 of 4)
xxiii-09 in the moonlight i drink alone (4 of 4)
xxiii-10 in the spring i return to my old retreat in the dragon spruce on zhong nan mountain
xxiii-11 one winter night i fall asleep drunk at the foot of mount long men
when i awoke i wrote the following verse explaining my intentions
xxiii-12 i cannot find the mountain priest i am searching for
xxiii-13 i arrive at the village of the wang family (1 of 2)
xxiii-14 i arrive at the village of the wang family (2 of 2)
xxiii-15 i wait for wine which is slow in coming
xxiii-16 drinking alone
xxiii-17 i spend the night in the company of a friend
xxiii-18 on a spring day drinking alone (1 of 2)
xxiii-19 on a spring day drinking alone (2 of 2)
xxiii-20 on the banks of the yang zi near nan ging i meet the hermit from peng chi
xxiii-21 spending a moonlit night listening to lu zi shun playing the lute
xxiii-22 in qing xi i hear a flute at midnight
xxiii-23 on an evening in the mountains a sudden thought
xxiii-24 a summer day in the mountains
xxiii-25 in the mountains i carouse with a hermit
xxiii-26 on a spring day i wake from a drunken stupor and explore my feelings
xxiii-27 night thoughts in the dong lin monastery on lu mountain
xxiii-28 i seek the hermitage of the venerable abbot yong zun
xxiii-29 together with vice president shi qin i listen to the flute on yellow crane tower
xxiii-30 concerning the wine
xxiii-31 in a frenzy i write the following verses on the courtroom wall of district judge wang han yang
xxiii-32 i tease wang, district director of li yang because he won’t drink wine with me
xxiii-33 i sit alone on jing ting mountain
xxiii-34 seeking to raise my spirits
xxiii-35 i wish to visit the daoist priest on dai tian mountain but he is not there
xxiii-36 on an autumn day together with wang, deputy superintendent of chu cheng, i visit the library of master wei
xxiii-37 on an autumn night i sit alone and think of the mountains back home
xxiii-38 i remember vice president cui zong zhi who traveled with me to nan yang. he carried an old book of odes which brought tears to my eyes as i read it
xxiii-39 i remember the eastern mountain (1 of 2)
xxiii-40 i remember the eastern mountain (2 of 2)
xxiii-41 thinking of a friend as the moon rises
xxiii-42 over wine i remember he zhi zhang, inspector of the imperial chancellery (1 of 2)
xxiii-43 over wine i remember he zhi zhang, inspector of the imperial chancellery (2 of 2)
xxiii-44 another poem in memory of he zhi zhang
xxiii-45 springtime in yo zhou, i think back to the time i spent in the mountains
xxiii-46 at sunset i think of days spent in the mountains
xxiii-47 i remember walking among peach blossoms in qiu pu as i am banished to ye lang
i talk with yuan dan qiu about the dao in the fang cheng monastery and write this verse
it is as if i awoke from a fuzzy dream, alone
it was long before anyone else had risen
i knew how wind and fire, earth and water
all unite in a vortex to shape my being
i had thrown off all my gloomy doubts
and now understood the important secrets
i felt myself free of all prejudices
and thus able to achieve transcendent clarity
i see clearly now how the past leads to the future
and feel buddha’s presence flow through my being
i owe this new surety to a contemplative man
yuan dan qiu has given me his precious essence
he and i both feel we have transcended our original self
there is no difference between ourselves. clouds and mountains
pure wind rises to the sky, bright moon illuminates our talk
i will remember this monastery forever in the happiness in my heart
murphy gullible enough to appreciate any guru he sees
i visit yuan dan qiu in his cell on shi min mountain where the hermit gao feng lived in han times
i look for the hermit where we had previously agreed to meet
though full of enthusiasm i have not made the great leap to enlightenment
the grey rock wall is difficult to climb to these heights
and suddenly the sun tilts down toward its setting
i have not made it over three or four ridges in my climb
and have already made many too many twists and turns
in the silence i hear from time to time the cries of the apes
the higher i climb the further i can see in the distance
over the tall spruce the moon shines forth its beauty
the desolate valley below echoes the sadness of autumn
in the depths of the gorges i see unmelted snow
from the fissures of the rocks trickles a cold spring
the peak glows in the middle of the firmament
the trails above are many and confusing
dan qiu calls me from the distance when he sees me
and i hear his sudden laughter as i come into his presence
we then descend deep into the valley he stays in
and i know then how truly contented he feels up here
he regales me with his hospitality throughout the night
and only with the return of morning light do i take my leave
murphy going the last mile to see for himself
i enjoy the coolness standing by the tower of the prajna monastery in an zhou
i am there to meet with secretary xue yi
at leisure i wander the beauty of the monastery garden
everywhere i look i see brilliance and harmony
the monastery buildings seem almost a mirage
the air redolent with the scents of herbs and flowers
suddenly i meet an aspiring scholar
both of us throw off our thin clothes
the water keeps the heat from the pond
wind rises from the cool shadows of the pines
we both note the delicacies of nature
especially the many surrounding flowers
i deliberately discard all pretense
and endeavor to accept this fullness
i feel the rust of my soul is gone
and when i retire to my cell at night
write these words on the wall
to show my tranquility for all time
murphy catching lightning in a bottle
on the eastern tower of zhong du xian in shan dong i was drunk.
after awakening i wrote this poem
yesterday i was drunk on the eastern tower
when i returned home my cap was on backwards
i wonder who helped me get up on my horse
i cannot remember when i left the tower
mutphy upon occasion having a drunken blackout
i plan to get drunk at the banquet and write this verse on the walls of the district courtyard of judge qu tu
tao qian was district judge of peng ze for only 80 days
then he wrote his song, “i wish to return to my homeland”
you, my old friend, are the district judge of jian chang
i allow myself to ask when you might return home
the wind blows snow up from the great river
the flakes fall continuously into our cups
this old man from the mountains is already drunk
and he will make his dancing sleeves swirl apart for you
murphy always ready with a quip or two
in the moonlight i drink alone (1 of 4)
i sit in the middle of flowers with a jug of wine
i am drinking alone without a friend to share
i lift the cup and invite the moon to come to me
with my shadow we will make three people
the moon has no experience of drinking
but my shadow follows my movements
as i settle down to enjoy myself
to please the three of us this spring
i sing and the moon hesitates in its path
i dance, my shadow becomes torn, confused
as long as i am still sober we are all delighted
but once i become drunk we lose our connection
for all of my future i want us three to share these feelings
and arrange our next meeting in the distant milky way
murphy prone to hallucinations when drunk enough
in the moonlight i drink alone (2 of 4)
if the heavens did not love wine, why is the wine star high up above
if the earth did not love wine there would be no source that grew
and since the earth and the heavens do love wine
i need not be ashamed of the drinking i do
i have also heard that clear wine is linked to holy men
dull heavy wines are favored by the sanctimonious
that i like both the clear and the turbid equally
why should i not attain both spirituality and genius
after three cups of either one begins to understand the dao
after a bucketful one becomes at one with nature
if you allow yourself to enjoy the superior joys of ecstasy
it certainly makes no sense to talk to those who are sober
murphy savoring the badinage to be in a good irish bar
in the moonlight i drink alone (3 of 4)
in the third month there appears in chang an
a thousand blossoms, a brocade brilliant in the sun
why should the spring be any cause for mourning
the glory of nature must be drunk without hesitation
success or failure, long life or short
all determined by the creator long before
a full cup of wine is like death
all things are truly less important
in my frenzy i know no more of heaven or earth
unconscious i am on my pillow of loneliness
no longer absorbed by my sense of self
what greater joy could one ever achieve
murphy slugging bushmill’s on the way to obliteration
in the moonlight i drink alone (4 of 4)
there are myriad reasons for my deep sorrow
but my wine cups are only a few in number
remember if it is a bit of a problem to get a little wine
the wine itself will ease the problem you have
this reflects the fact that wine itself is sacred
wines are certain to free the heart from sorrow
bo yi and shu qi served not the kingdom of zhou
and died of hunger in the shou yang mountains
in those days if one did not drink the favors of power
one could not ever begin to rise to glory
so drink wine while eating crabs, it’s the blood of life
a mound of grape wine skins is an island of the blessed
so raise your cup and drink wonderful wine
be drunk beneath the full moon on a high balcony
murphy practicing his after dinner speech
in the spring i return to my old retreat in the dragon spruce on zhong nan mountain
i go to the southern face of zhong nan mountain
the entire landscape seems unchanged from before
again i inspect the waters in the canyon
and especially the rocks below the cliff
roses climb up the eastern window of my hermitage
a stand of silken flax hides the northern wall
it looks as if i left only a few days ago
the vegetation seems only a few feet higher
i decide to stay and pour myself some wine
the entire night is spent alone in roisterous carousal
murphy the solitary party animal
one winter night i fall asleep drunk at the foot of mount long men
when i awoke i wrote the following verse explaining my intentions
when i was drunk i took off my precious sword
tired of walking i fell asleep in the high hall
in the middle of the night i wake up suddenly
and go over to the brightly blazing lamp
i open the window to look out a little
i see moonlit snow and thick ice on the huang he
i hum a sad tune lamenting the bitter cold
full of sorrow i express the pain of my loneliness
fu yue was originally only a bricklayer
li si was a falconer who hunted with hounds
but these two men rose to serve their country
were they concerned about being called for such service
why am i here at the foot of long men mountain
why is it that i am sad enough to heave great sighs
i have indeed given up all hope of riches and success
and who could i even complain to about my suffering
slowly tears fall on my robe and i raise my voice in song
i sing the ballad of liang fu yin about the travails of brave men
a man must strive with all his might to rise to the heavens
why should he be forced to have to rely on his friends
murphy always doing everything for himself, however poorly
i cannot find the mountain priest i am searching for
a stony path leads down into the reddish valley
the spruce gate of the hermitage is covered with moss
on the abandoned steps are only the tracks of birds
no one here to open the hut i am studying
looking through the window i see his fly whisk on the wall
the luster of its jade handle hidden by a coating of dust
involuntarily i hear myself sigh with frustration
i decide to leave, but i am still hesitant
fragrant mists rise everywhere on the mountains
a rain of flowers falls, as if from the sky itself
i have always had a fondness for the music of nature
and i joy now to hear the shrill cries of the monkeys
here now i understand the idea of retiring from the world
for this place is overwhelming in its calm beauty
murphy a bit late for his appointment
i arrive at the village of the wang family (1 of 2)
who knew how to walk through the mountains
ling yang, zi ming, fou qiu, and master wang
mountains high enough to hide part of the milky way
the row of peaks point toward the nan dou constellation
the villa of the wang family is within the northern range
the guest quarters beside the pond are cool and quiet
the hospitality of master wang has been a pleasant surprise
he has slaughtered, cooked, and prepared many delicacies
he sweeps clean the stone bench we share in the evening
as we wait for the rising of the moon he opens the sluice gates
the cold waters pour into the pond until it is overflowing
we drink ourselves silly in appreciation of the sadness of autumn
murphy ever prepared to be the perfect guest
i arrive at the village of the wang family (2 of 2)
before i had only heard of, and had not experienced, your love for worthy talent
and that you had built a mansion with a balcony in the middle of a pond
where, when the fire star rises, a hot wind blows from the south
and the pomegranate blooms while the pond is filled with lotus flowers
i regret never having visited you at that time to drink out of golden goblets
for now in the fall the trees are bare, the moon looks sad, and the monkeys cry
we listen to songs of wu til morning drinking from your gorgeous stemware
becoming drunk on the wine i begin to dance as everyone joins in the singing
now the sun rises, lighting the distant sea, but our cart has not yet arrived
it will carry me back to the dragon pond to rest on its moss covered rocks
murphy a roisterous guest when the spirit moves him
i wait for wine which is slow in coming
what can be keeping the servant from bringing the wine
he left to buy it with his wine jug slung over his shoulder
now the flowers of the mountain are laughing with me
it is the perfect time to bring the cup to my lips
if i drink wine at night sitting under the east window
i will find the restless oriole there to distract me once again
this is when the spring wind is at its finest
getting drunk in its gentle breeze is my fondest wish
murphy ready to sip at any time whatsoever
drinking alone
the spring grass spreads before me
as shadow of the mansion’s great wall
the east wind brings with it a subtle grief
even my hair is gradually made aware
drinking alone i send out my own dark shadow
softly i begin to sing to the fragrant forest
what do the tall spruce know about me
why do their rustling sounds bring sadness
in the moonlight i dance with swirling sleeves
sitting among flowers i idly pluck my lute
if i take anything from this jug of wine
let it be an ease from all my torment
murphy finding solace in his cups
i spend the night in the company of a friend
shaking off the thousands of old worries we drink
a hundred jars, one after another after another
on such a night one engages in genial conversation
and foregoes sleep while the moon keeps shining
then, finally drunk, finds a place to sleep
alone on the uninhabited mountain
to sleep out the effects of the wine
with earth as pillow, the heavens as canopy
murphy partying til the dawn
on a spring day drinking alone (1 of 2)
the east wind brings a welcome warmth
water and trees scintillate in the glow of spring
a lonely cloud returns to the desolate mountains
the birds return to their nests, one, then another
the cloud and birds have an established place
only i am missing a true home destination
alone as the moonlight falls on the rocks
i become drunk and sing to the flowers
murphy making the best of a bad situation
on a spring day drinking alone (2 of 2)
i think of the purple mists of the immortals
and long as always for that distant paradise
meanwhile i sit in front of a jug of wine
leaving the cares of the world behind
with lute on my lap i rest against a large spruce
with cup in hand i look out to the distant mountains
from the wide sky a bird disappears into its nest
after sunset a cloud returns to the mountain
my only fear is it’s too late to become an immortal
my face long ago assuming its autumnal appearance
murphy forehead crinkled with age
on the banks of the yang zi near nan ging i meet the hermit from peng chi
i have always loved to roam famous mountains
and am again far from home indulging myself
now i am on my way to visit the ma gu pavilion
on lo fou mountain where i may decide to stay
today i met you, the hermit of peng chi
you approached my boat as i ate by the meteor rocks
we shared a few empty words to pass the time
then, laughing, we noted that the sun was setting
the green water flowed against yen men mountain
brown clouds covered the mountain dragon
we were both unfortunate birds in a wilderness
flitting here and there between wu and yue
soon we were freely sharing our thoughts
until late in the night. sometimes holding hands
for i had shed my fur coat with the purple embroidery
and sent it to to trade for some nan ging wine
when the wine arrived we began to laugh and sing
our mood climbed to the heights as we shared our joy
bright moonlight danced on the waves of the river
almost ridding us of the knowledge of our impending separation
for tomorrow morning i will again raise my sail
and the pain of separation will spread the blue waves
murphy moving on, always moving on
spending a moonlit night listening to lu zi shun playing the lute
a quiet night as i sit under the bright moon
a hermit shares the brilliance of his playing
suddenly i hear the sad song of the wind
whispering sounds that cold brings to spruce
then the song chills as would the snow
brought by the slender fingers of a woman
then it soothes my attentive listening heart
the way green water smooths and polishes stone
zhong zi qi has long since left this world
only he could hope to match such artistry
murphy entranced by the monk playing his shakuhachi
in qing xi i hear a flute at midnight
i hear the plum blossom song played on a turkic flute
it brings sadness here to the banks of the lung river in wu xi
rising over the cold mountains the moon shines down on qing xi
then my heart breaks when i hear the song of the you men guan pass
murphy reacting emotionally to an old 78 of the delta blues
on an evening in the mountains a sudden thought
for a long time i have visited famous mountains and made myself their guest
the deeper i penetrate into the mountains the more i appreciate the clouds
tonight the moon rises slowly beyond the houses and over a near mountain
which is the source of the spring sending its waters to the front of my stairs
this environment creates a purity of the heart, genuine and not affected
a flying squirrel chatters, it’s fall and the cassia is in full bloom
the wind is calm with no rustling of the leaves to distract me
i suddenly think of needing to search for master hong yai
but i remember he is far away and living on the island of the immortals
triggering a sadness that the cloud wagon has yet to carry me there
murphy still waiting for the miracle to occur
a summer day in the mountains
lazily i fan myself with a white feather fan
in the green woods i strip to the waist
i remove my headscarf to dry on a bare rock
the wind through the pines lifts my unpinned hair
murphy finding epiphanies at the oddest moments
in the mountains i carouse with a hermit
we two men drink together sitting among the flowers
in the mountains a cup, then another and another
i am getting drunk now and will go off to sleep
tomorrow morning come again and bring your lute
murphy at one with music and drink
on a spring day i wake from a drunken stupor and explore my feelings
in this world of ours life can seem and endless dream
so why do we often make it so hard on ourselves
every day i am drunk from morning til night
lounging between the columns of my front porch
waking just now i looked out on the courtyard
a bird was singing there in the middle of flowers
i ask myself what time of year is the best time
how does the oriole know when to sing
i am deeply moved and loudly sigh to myself
soon i give in to drinking my wine once again
i sing loudly waiting for the bright moon to rise
when the song ends i shall be rid of this self reflection
murphy not one to grind away at remorse
night thoughts in the dong lin monastery on lu mountain
i wished to visit the buddhist monastery
i set off alone and left the city behind
the frosty air brightened the ringing of its bell
the waters of tiger creek sparkled under the moon
heavenly fragrance of incense collects in the air
heavenly music continuously surrounds my ears
i sit in silence lost to the joy of contemplation
the entire world for me has shrunk to the width of a hair
my inner heart has become free from all ambition
an eon of time has for me come to its inevitable end
murphy nervously approaching nirvana
i seek the hermitage of the venerable abbot yong zun
between the green rocks whose bulk rises to the heavens
whose changeless mass has lasted for uncountable years
i press up through the clouds seeking the path to his retreat
leaning against a tree i hear the whisper of an eternal spring
the black bull which lao zi once rode rests among the flowers
the white crane waits patiently to ferry an immortal to the heavens
in our conversations evening falls on this land beside the stream
then i return alone through the cold fog back to the valley
murphy returning to reality after his vision quest
together with vice president shi qin i listen to the flute on yellow crane tower
since we were sent into exile as once jia yi was sent to chang sha
we always look west, toward chang an, which is too far away to see
now we listen on the yellow crane tower to the flute play a sad song
it is already 15 months in wu chang, and the blooms fall on the yang zi
murphy yearning for the texas of his youth
concerning the wine
i tell you true the wine before you should not be rejected
it is like an early spring wind bringing laughter to men
peach and plum blossoms become old returning friends
year after year opening their beauty for us to admire
the restless oriole sings from its perch in the trees
the fullness of moon reaches down into our golden cups
yesterday we were but red cheeked youngsters
today we are all afflicted with manes of white hair
thorns grow thick around the palace of shi ji long
while deer prance freely around the gu lu balcony
gates of the old walls of the emperor’s residence
are blocked by heaped mounds of windblown sand
now, when you drink this wine is already too late for them
all men from olden times have descended into their graves
murphy never quite erasing his love of a simpler past
in a frenzy i write the following verses on the courtroom wall of district judge wang han yang
i am like a partridge who has returned to the south
and doesn’t look forward to his return trip north
i often visit to drink with the district judge wang
then am reluctant to stumble back to my humble quarters
murphy never wishing the party to end
i tease wang, district director of li yang because he won’t drink wine with me
the ground has become completely white
covered with large fluffy snowflakes
i must tease you, a false tao yuan ming
he also at times refused the wine in his cup
it’s like playing a pipa that has no strings
or planting five useless willows as you have
and the headscarf you wear, you won’t use it
we need it to clarify this wine, what can i do with you
murphy shaking his head at the idiocy of others
i sit alone on jing ting mountain
the birds have flown away high into the air
a lonely cloud pulls away ever so slowly
two jaded beings who do not see each other
me and the mountain jing ting
murphy off on a wild goose chase as usual
seeking to raise my spirits
lying by the wine i notice it is dark
falling petals now cover my clothes
wakened, i walk the gorge in moonlight
birds have roosted, no one else around
murphy refreshed by nature
i wish to visit the daoist priest on dai tian mountain but he is not there
sounds of barking dogs and the murmur of water commingle
a heavy dew on the peach blossoms enrich their rich color
i notice deer wandering back in the darkness of the forest
it is noon but the bells don’t ring so the priest must be away
the wild bamboo rise up to the heavens, into the dark clouds
the high waterfall plunges from the emerald green rock
no one knows where the priest has decided to wander
i accept this and walk sadly among the surrounding spruce
murphy coming to the river the day after fish were biting
on an autumn day together with wang, deputy superintendent of chu cheng, i visit the library of master wei
the sun has set leaving the pavilion abandoned in darkness
the city has also been deserted, only the ruins remain
the surrounding land stretches far away to the sea
the image of the heavens blurs on the stream’s surface
the man i used to talk with is now gone from here
yet the joy of his acquaintance is not lost to me
under colored clouds i am moved to write in rhyme-prose
before his red walls i ask about master wei’s library
the leaves floating in the stream pile up behind driftwood
in the pond the water chestnuts spread apart when fish jump
as evening comes i am filled with the thoughts of autumn
on the road home i think of my feelings for the master
murphy seeking a touchstone to trigger a poetic frenzy
on an autumn night i sit alone and think of the mountains back home
i am an insignificant hermit living in the mountains like bai yi
i admire xie an and style myself a vagabond like xiang zhang
imperial brush strokes have summoned me throughout the land
wresting me from my solitude in the mountains back to chang an
i attended imperial banquets beside the jasper pond
and accompanied the emperor in his palanquin journeys
i wrote in imitation of yang xiong’s famous hunting poem
and warned of how the excesses involved were harmful
i wished to have the attention of the emperor
but wished to stay in the background as i did so
much as zhuang zi cautioned about gladitorial combat
whereas mo di was ashamed to speak of war
limited and incapable, i have withdrawn from the court
returning to an inconsequential life taking up farming
abandoning service i chase the splendor of purple mushrooms
and emulate the four old men of han as did tao yuan ming
now the dark of night has descended on these mountains
yet in my shimmering thoughts i still see my old homeland
there the moon shines on the ivy green of autumn mountains
and i wonder for whom it shines so brightly there tonight
murphy never escaping texas in his innermost thoughts
i remember vice president cui zong zhi who traveled with me to nan yang
he carried an old book of odes which brought tears to my eyes as i read it
i once lived in the town of nan yang
eating only the ferns of du shan mountain
i remember how cui zong zhi and i went there
moonshine delightful on the waters of the yu river
often did we cross over the chrysanthemum bridge
and gave ourselves over to wine drinking without end
we dropped the yellow gold petals into our wine
then, intoxicated, sang happy, lilting, songs
then one day a beautiful tree came crashing down
cui’s passage from life to death all too sudden, the same
he left behind his book of odes like the one of confucius
the book is still there but the my friend is long now dead
nothing lasts beyond the end of one’s life except art
i can only shed tears on his grave on mang mountain
when will the gate to the underworld ever see light
he exists now in eternal darkness where only fox and hares burrow
murphy sometimes regretting his talent for survivial
i remember the eastern mountain (1 of 2)
i have not been back to eastern mountain for a long time
how often the roses have bloomed and died since that time
white clouds rising and melting away without end
i wonder whose house the moonshine falls on tonight
murphy long gone from dallas, alas
i remember the eastern mountain (2 of 2)
i lead a girl out by her hand as xie an once did
through long drawn out whistling by the noisy group
i wish to alert the wanderer of the eastern mountains
to let xie an thus know i am coming to visit
so he may open the door of his hermitage
and prepare bai yon hall for his guests
murphy anticipating his pleasures
thinking of a friend as the moon rises
sparse pines reflect from the clear spring waters
it’s been the same here for thousands of years
the cold moon trembles on the rippled surface
its brilliance floods through the doors and windows
i can offer only words of longing, not such beauty
how deep the feeling when i think thus of you
however there is no way we can see each other
as once wang hui zhi was separated from dai kui
now the enthusiasm brought me by the moon is gone
leaving only the deepest of sorrows within my heart
murphy a self exiled loner from texas
over wine i remember he zhi zhang, inspector of the imperial chancellery (1 of 2)
introduction: the master of ceremonials of crown prince ho zhi zhang called me the exiled immortal genius when he met me at the zi ji palace; whereupon he undid the golden turtle holding his belt, sent for wine to be bought, and we gave ourselves over to joy.
that “wild fellow” of renown came from si ming mountain
that man of independent spirit named he zhi zhang
when we first met long ago in chang an
he called me the exiled immortal genius
he always loved the precious wetness of the cup
but now he is dust in the grave resting under pine trees
when i think back on his giving over his golden turtle for wine
hot tears overflow my eyes and drench my handkerchief
murphy blessed with the best of friends
over wine i remember he zhi zhang, inspector of the imperial chancellery (2 of 2)
introduction: the master of ceremonials of crown prince ho zhi zhang called me the exiled immortal genius when he met me at the zi ji palace; whereupon he undid the golden turtle holding his belt, sent for wine to be bought, and we gave ourselves over to joy.
when the “wild journeyman” he zhi zhang returned to si ming mountain
the daoist notables received him in shan yin as a beloved comrade
by imperial decree he was given ownership of the mirror lake
so brightness fell on the monastery and the beautiful lake
the man is dead now and only his hermitage is left to us
his beloved lotus still grow there bereft of his attention
when i think of this my thoughts become the blur of dream
grief comes to burden my heart and excruciatingly overstays
murphy reading the obits as has become his wont
another poem in memory of he zhi zhang
i wished to travel to jiang dong but did not
no one lives there now to carouse with
old he zhi zhang no longer on gui zhi mountain
my boat is filled with wine but no reason to paddle back
murphy ever more the lonely survivor
springtime in yo zhou, i think back to the time i spent in the mountains
spring returns to the land of the yuan and xiang rivers
the plants are greening again in their lush tangle of life
i who am so enamored of the beauty of antiquity
find i can find here the feelings of happiness i so desire
i am not chu yuan who wrote the huai sha fu, then killed himself
i desire only to praise the boys and girls who pick waterchestnuts
my deeply felt wish then is to return to east mountain in zhe giang
there i can find in my insignificant heart shen yo’s new happiness
murphy always of the opinion things are better somewhere else
at sunset i think of days spent in the mountains
after the rains the plants are glistening, lush and green
in this beautiful weather the mists and fogs finally disappear
the spring has brought with it the gentle east wind
when leaves of the trees and my garden flowers sprout
i am again drawn to migrate to the mountains and the daoist masters
to formulate the elixir of life and fly away to the island of the blest
murphy a rejuvenated old mystic at heart
i remember walking among peach blossoms in qiu pu as i am banished to ye lang
here now as the peach blossoms open and spring waters rise
the white stones of the river disappear beneath the waves
the east wind shakes the branches with their delicate flaxen silk
and the moon is but a crescent in the darkness of night
the same may be seen there still but i do not know
fern leaves still unroll along the way i am committed to
after three years i will return from exile in ye lang
then find a way to prepare the elixir of life back in qiu pu
murphy far from home and determined to get back