I've been reading The Idler's Companion and came across a Chinese poem that begins
I have a cottage in the Chungnan foothills
The Chungnan mountains face it.
All year long no guests.
And the gate remains shut.
This a genre I've always found appealing: a person of letters and action retires to a place of seclusion; there to live in quiet contemplation; and seek wisdom.
It's by Wang Wei, who lived in the 8c: a painter, poet, and high official in the imperial administration. I looked Wang Wei up and found another celebrated poem.
When those red berries come in springtime,
Flushing on your southland branches,
Take home an armful, for my sake,
As a symbol of our love.
On a winter walk I found the striking red berries at the top of this post. They reminded me irresistibly of this poem, even though spring has passed, and no-one will be gathering them for my sake.
Tags: red berries, wang wei
