The Lute Player

 
Liu Changqing (709-785)
 
 
As water flows, your lute of seven strings . . .
I hear the wind between the winter pines.
You pull an ancient tune that, though I love,
The players now can hardly play the lines.
 
 

Chinese   彈琴 劉長卿   泠泠七絃上 靜聽松風寒 古調雖自愛 今人多不彈

Pronunciation   Dàn Qín

Thoughts on a Quiet Night

 
Li Bai (701-762)
 
 
Before my bed the bright moon shines its light,
Perhaps the frost now covers all the ground;
I lift my head to see the shining moon,
I bow my head to see my native town.
 
 

Chinese   靜夜思 李白   床前明月光 疑是地上霜 舉頭望明月 低頭思故鄉

Pronunciation   Jìng Yè Sī Lǐ Bái

For Boris and Miona
 
They find a garden lush with plum-air scents
As spring sun filters through the dew-dust leaves
And subtle sighs arise while fruit ferments,
For Eden enters Earth when minds conceive.
 
Within the garden deep an oak tree grows,
Preserving plum and fruit from sudden squalls
With roots that sink in soil where winds oppose,
To keep the flowers fresh as flurries fall.
 
Emerging from primordial chaos fair,
This Earth now holds the veins where plum wine flows:
Though autumn atrophies and winter wears