Spring, the River, Flowers, the Moon Night

Zhang Ruo-xu (666-720)

In spring the river swells level with sea,

The bright moon rise mounting the tide.

Waters flash with infinite light.

Where on the spring river is there no bright moon?

The river winds through flower fragrant fields,

Glistening in the moonlight like beads of ice.

Who can see the frost alight,

Or tell the island’s white sand from the moon’s white glow?

The sky, the river—one perfect hue.

Bright, bright—the solitary circle in the sky.

When did the moon first shine on men?

Who first saw the moon from the riverside?

Human beings, generation after generation without end,

See the same river, the same moon:

Does anyone know whom she awaits?

We see only the long river moving on.

A wisp of cloud lingers in the sky

What household tonight has a wanderer adrift upon the tide?

Upon what lonely woman’s roof does the moon shine?

Pitiful, the light playing upon the house,

Moving over the dressing table of one left behind.

Impossible, to brush it off the washing block, or

Rolling down the blinds, to keep it out.

Green Maple Pond!

So far! Unbearable!

Now we only trace each other’s likeness in the moon.

If only I could stream down upon you in the moonlight,

Or send a message by the fish that leaping from the water plunges to

The depth or by the wild goose that soaring high into the sky remains within the brightness.

Last night I dreamt of petals falling

Into the stillness of the pond,

A pity, half the spring—passed without your returning.

Spring! Almost exhausted, swept away with the river’s waters.

Now dim, hidden in a sea of rising mist,

The moon slants westward over the river and the pond.

Endless, the road from Jieshi to the Xiang River.

How many will return by moonlight?

Setting, the moon seems to shake the flowering trees along the

River with unquiet thought.

（张庭琛 译）

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