Here is another specimen longer and more sustained. It is a poem by Tu Fu, the Wordsworth of China, of the T'ang Dynasty. I will here first give my English translation. The subject is
MEETING WITH AN OLD FRIEND.
In life, friends seldom are brought near;
Like stars, each one shines in its sphere.
To-night,—oh! what a happy night!
We sit beneath the same lamplight.
Our youth and strength last but a day.
You and I—ah! our hairs are grey.
Friends! Half are in a better land,
With tears we grasp each other's hand.
Twenty more years,—short, after all,
I once again ascend your hall.
When we met, you had not a wife;
Now you have children,—such is life!
Beaming, they greet their father's chum;
They ask me from where I have come.
Before our say, we each have said,
The table is already laid.
Fresh salads from the garden near,
Rice mixed with millet,—frugal cheer.
When shall we meet? 'tis hard to know.
And so let the wine freely flow.
This wine, I know, will do no harm.
My old friend's welcome is so warm.
To-morrow I go,—to be whirled.
Again into the wide, wide world.
