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Written on Coming Home
I left home young and come back old; my home accent unchanged, the hair at my temples thinned. The children see me and do not know me; laughing, they ask where the guest has come from.
回乡偶书
Mooring for the Night on the Jiande River
I move the boat and moor by a misted sandbar; the sun sets, and a traveler's sorrow is new again. The plain is wide, the sky hangs below the trees; the river is clear, and the moon comes close to a person.
宿建德江
On the Ninth Day of the Ninth Month, Remembering My Brothers
Alone in another region, a stranger there, at every festival I think of my kin twice as much. From far off I know my brothers are on the heights, and where all wear dogwood, one man is missing.
九月九日忆山东兄弟
Looking for the Recluse and Not Finding Him
Beneath the pines I question the boy; he says his master has gone to gather herbs. He is only somewhere in this mountain, but the clouds are deep—who knows where?
寻隐者不遇
Seeing Off Xin Jian at Hibiscus Tower
Cold rain merged with the river as we entered Wu by night; at first light I see my friend off, and the Chu hills stand alone. If kin and friends in Luoyang should ask about me, say a single piece of ice-clear heart is in a jade vessel.
芙蓉楼送辛渐
A Question for Liu the Nineteenth
New unstrained wine, its froth green as ants; a small stove of red clay. Evening comes, the sky is about to snow— can you drink a cup?
问刘十九