1
The riverside flowers
are driving me crazy
because there’s no way
to describe their effect
I went to see
my neighbor and fellow drinker
he’s on a ten-day bender
all I found was an empty bed.
2
Flowers in crowds, shoals, galaxies
swarm and tangle by the river
I don’t walk I stagger
spring knocks me out
two things I can still manage
wine and poetry
you flowers
have pity on a white-haired man.
3
A few houses here
where the river is deep and the bamboos quiet
but these flowers
this red and white flirtation
and what can I give
in return?
yo, spring!
have some of this good wine.
4
Over to the east
Chengdu’s flowers are lost in smoke
and Hundred Blossom Tower
has it worse
who can afford that place—
wine in gold cups
dancing girls
in plush surroundings?
5
On the other side of the river
here’s Abbot Huang’s grave
spring light seems drowsy here
leaning against the breezes
a mass of peach blossoms
waiting to be picked
what do I want
a red one or a pink one?
6
Mrs. Huang’s garden
flowers engulfing the paths
thousands
weighing the branches
butterflies move pause move pause
it’s a dance
and the adorable orioles
know the appropriate music.
7
It’s not that I love them so much
I’m likely to die along with them
but I know I’ll age more quickly
when they’re gone
clusters, don’t wither and droop
so quickly
little buds, don’t rush it
open slowly!
[from DU FU A Life in Poetry, Translated by David Young, Knopf, 2010]
Editor’s Note: This is one magnificent translation, collection. –Norbert Blei
This is wonderful! Thanks for spring flowers on a rainy day.
“yo, spring!
have some of this good wine.”
Now why didn’t I think of that?
I absolutely loved this.
Ahhhhh! Du Fu. Good part of being a wandering poet and drinking–the flowers. All I ever saw was a mahogany bar with a stale smell.
Du Fu ? Outstanding & Thank You For Posting
Du Fu !
Penitentiary Garden
White
Roses
&
White
Chrysanthemums
Bunched
Together
In
Full
Shade
Ed Markowski
Thank you, Norb. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll look for the flowers here…this was today’s activity:
TODAY’S MAJOR EVENTS
I DROVE THE TRACTOR ALONG WOODS EDGE
STOPPING AT THE OLD MUSHROOM PLACE.
HARD WORK, BUT I FOUND A MOREL.
BACK HOME I CUT IT IN TWO,
WASHED THE PORTIONS
AND PLACED THEM IN A SEE-THRU BAG.
AS I MOVED TO THE REFRIGERATOR
I ASKED MYSELF,
WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?
A SINGLE MUSHROOM, A LITTLE OVERRIPE,
MAYBE THROWING OUT SPORES?
I GRABBED A WALKING STICK,
AMBLED TO A SHADED PLACE
NEAR THE BACKYARD PRAIRIE,
AND GENTLY PLACED THE HALVES
ON A PATCH OF BARE SOIL.
I love Du Fu. He grasps joy from every moment, even
though he is evidently old and “poor”, though no man
with such a spirit cuold ever really be poor.
The other thing about his poetry is that it comes from
probably a far back time, and certainly from a far country,
and yet…and yet how easily we relate because it remains
contemorary to our time and place.
I don’t know where and how you find these gems, Norb,
but they are like mayflowers laid on our door.
I don’t walk I stagger
Spring knocks me out.
Two things I can still manage
wine and poetry
Du Fu evidently is old and “poor” though no one with such a spirit could really be poor, but how filled wtih delight his life is! A delight that spills over to us.
Potently Intriguing Choice of Post here Nazzzz…reminds me of Kerouac’s 12th Chorus of Desolation Blues:
Little weird flower,
why did you grow?
Who planted you
on this god damned hill?
Who asked you to grow?
Why dont you go?
What’s wrong with yr. orange tips?
I was under the impression
that you were sposed to be
some kind of perfect nature.
Oh, you are?
Just jiggle in the wind. I see.