Edited by Richard Walker, Wednesday, 9 Dec 2015, 01:32
I've been reading The Idler's Companion and came across a Chinese poem that begins
Reply to Chang Yin
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.
Winter Walk Berries
I've been reading The Idler's Companion and came across a Chinese poem that begins
Reply to Chang Yin
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.
One Hearted
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.