How Many Springs Do We See?

Pear blossoms pale white, willows deep green,

When willow fluff scatters, falling petals will fill the town,

Snowy boughs by the eastern palisade set me pondering -

In a lifetime, how may springs do we see?

A Message to Censor Du Fu At His Office in the Left Court

Way back in my undergraduate days, I printed out 300 Tang Poems, a popular anthology of 310 poems compiled by an 18th century Qing scholar named Sun Zhu. Apart from my fascination with the poetry of the Tang Dynasty (618-907), which presided over China's golden age, the other key motivation for printing out the poems was a substantial, unused print allowance I still happened to have at the end of a semester. What better way to use up the remainder of my print allowance than by printing out Tang poems?

After I got the printouts spiral-bound with a transparent plastic front-cover, I shelved the volume and forgot all about it. It had been gathering dust in my book shelf ever since, until I happened to chance upon it when casting about for something to read on a wintry Sunday evening. Flipping through its pages, I was again struck by the singular beauty of the poems. This has led me to a decision to dip into the collection at random, whenever occasion permits, and, if a piece appeals to me, present it here.

The first offering, by Cen Can, is addressed to Censor Du Fu, who himself comprised, along with Li Bai and Bai Juyi, the poetic triumvirate of the Tang.

A MESSAGE TO CENSOR Du Fu AT HIS OFFICE IN THE LEFT COURT
By Cen Can

Together we officials climbed vermilion steps
To be parted by the purple walls
Our procession, which entered the palace at dawn,
Leaves fragrant now at dusk with imperial incense.
Grey heads may grieve for a fallen flower,
Or blue clouds envy a lilting bird;
But this reign is of heaven, nothing goes wrong,
There have been almost no petitions.