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| SO-KIN of Rakuho, ancient friend, I now remember | |
| That you built me a special tavern, | |
| By the south side of the bridge at Ten-Shin. | |
| With yellow gold and white jewels | |
| we paid for the songs and laughter, | 5 |
| And we were drunk for month after month, | |
| forgetting the kings and princes. | |
| Intelligent men came drifting in, from the sea | |
| and from the west border, | |
| And with them, and with you especially, | 10 |
| there was nothing at cross-purpose; | |
| And they made nothing of sea-crossing | |
| or of mountain-crossing, | |
| If only they could be of that fellowship. | |
| And we all spoke out our hearts and minds … | 15 |
| and without regret. | |
| And then I was sent off to South Wei, | |
| smothered in laurel groves, | |
| And you to the north of Raku-hoku, | |
| Till we had nothing but thoughts and memories between us. | 20 |
| And when separation had come to its worst | |
| We met, and travelled together into Sen-Go | |
| Through all the thirty-six folds of the turning and twisting waters; | |
| Into a valley of a thousand bright flowers … | |
| that was the first valley, | 25 |
| And on into ten thousand valleys | |
| full of voices and pine-winds. | |
| With silver harness and reins of gold, | |
| prostrating themselves on the ground, | |
| Out came the East-of-Kan foreman and his company; | 30 |
| And there came also the “True-man” of Shi-yo to meet me, | |
| Playing on a jewelled mouth-organ. | |
| In the storied houses of San-Ko they gave us | |
| more Sennin music; | |
| Many instruments, like the sound of young phœnix broods. | 35 |
| And the foreman of Kan-Chu, drunk, | |
| Danced because his long sleeves | |
| Wouldn’t keep still, with that music playing. | |
| And I, wrapped in brocade, went to sleep with my head on his lap, | |
| And my spirit so high that it was all over the heavens. | 40 |
| |
| And before the end of the day we were scattered like stars or rain. | |
| I had to be off to So, far away over the waters, | |
| You back to your river-bridge. | |
| And your father, who was brave as a leopard, | |
| Was governor in Hei Shu and put down the barbarian rabble. | 45 |
| And one May he had you send for me, despite the long distance; | |
| And what with broken wheels and so on, I won’t say it wasn’t hard going … | |
| Over roads twisted like sheep’s guts. | |
| And I was still going, late in the year, | |
| in the cutting wind from the north, | 50 |
| And thinking how little you cared for the cost … | |
| and you caring enough to pay it. | |
| Then what a reception! | |
| Red jade cups, food well set, on a blue jewelled table; | |
| And I was drunk, and had no thought of returning; | 55 |
| And you would walk out with me to the western corner of the castle, | |
| To the dynastic temple, with the water about it clear as blue jade, | |
| With boats floating, and the sound of mouth-organs and drums, | |
| With ripples like dragon-scales going grass-green on the water, | |
| Pleasure lasting, with courtezans going and coming without hindrance, | 60 |
| With the willow-flakes falling like snow, | |
| And the vermilioned girls getting drunk about sunset, | |
| And the waters a hundred feet deep reflecting green eyebrows— | |
| Eyebrows painted green are a fine sight in young moonlight, | |
| Gracefully painted—and the girls singing back at each other, | 65 |
| Dancing in transparent brocade, | |
| And the wind lifting the song, and interrupting it, | |
| Tossing it up under the clouds. | |
| |
| And all this comes to an end, | |
| And is not again to be met with. | 70 |
| I went up to the court for examination, | |
| Tried Layu’s luck, offered the Choyu song, | |
| And got no promotion, | |
| And went back to the East Mountains white-headed. | |
| |
| And once again we met, later, at the South Bridge head. | 75 |
| And then the crowd broke up—you went north to San palace. | |
| And if you ask how I regret that parting? | |
| It is like the flowers falling at spring’s end, | |
| confused, whirled in a tangle. | |
| What is the use of talking! And there is no end of talking— | 80 |
| There is no end of things in the heart. | |
| |
| I call in the boy, | |
| Have him sit on his knees to write and seal this, | |
And I send it a thousand miles, thinking.
(Translated by Ezra Pound from the notes of the late Ernest Fenollosa, and the decipherings of the Professors Mori and Araga.) | |
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