Gao An
11-11-2004, 07:00 PM
The waves of variation in the appearance of a woman
The paths where thousands of shoes treaded
Which go to the hidden places
The quiet and deserted riverbeds in a wavy leaf
The tree branches placed in the face
The carved marks of time
Ai-Wan Pavilion[2]
Are you silently speaking to yourself
Or to the unreal image of someone who passed away
Time has not modified your background
My shoes are fully stained with the dust of today
But the age of the wind is hard to be distinguished
Wind
Emerges from a cave
With cold air of an old man
And stays in the red beams and posts
Pavilion, it is actually empty
The fragrant cars, the treasured horses and the flying pigeons
Sounds of people, hoofs and birds
Things that come always come
Things that go always go
Only the celestial being left a small trace
His soul is like thin paper
In green glazed antithetical couplet
It was repeatedly dyed red by sunset
Rinsed by heavy rain
Developed by flashed light
Wind is the witness
The white pigeon has slown away in the sunset glow
And will never return
The upturned eaves remain a fantasy of the pigeon
It’s cloth hangs in the tree branches
One of it’s hands
Stretches to a dead leaf
With the shape of a boat
Husky voice reads
A page of the blank book
Thrown away in the road
Wind returns and hides in the woods
In the dusk
All kinds of footsteps gone
The level ground paved with the blue flagstones
Is not loaded at this moment
A dark red maple leaf
Fell down it’s edge
The raging flames of the Fall
Has died in the mountain
This roaming palm
Stays in the edge of the pond
And fixedly gazes at the image in the water
The pond is full of hollowness and lonelyness
The dusk is silent
Which is like sea water
And floods up to the mountain
No place to escape
The dusk is detained in the edge of the woods
Here is empty and without the end
The grave in the woods
Is a symbol of the end
The standing tombstone
Is a substitute of a dead man
Words on the tombstone
Painted by the dim light of the night
This dead man has sank to the underground
A gully under the bridge
Sounds the song of the dripping water
In the rock
Spring water silently flows away
In the darkness
The whirled stone steps
Carry the fallen leaves and the dead branches
One step by one step
To go through to
Winding corridor as an abandoned guqin[3]
Is played by the fingers of the cold moon
And surrounded by the dim light of the night
The mild melody flows in the air
The feet of the moonlight are naked
They gracefully step through the wet lawn
And pass through the dark woods
Then get over the wall of the temple
Quietly open the door of the golden hall
The oil lamp is dim
It lights up emptiness above the round cushion
In the ground
The postures of worship are full of the dust
That man who performed the kowtow
Has thrown away the stone held in his arms
And returned to this world of noise
The opened Confucian classics in the windowsill
Got wet by the moonlight
The bright ripples spread in it
In the morning of spring in March
It is as light in color as water of the Fall
In the most days
But Confucian classics will never be finished
In reading and singing
Tune of a song is older than the rag
Chorus in each evening is
As grand as the golden hall
The evening is repeated like the sea tide
Which is unceasing in coming and leaving
Night is the oil of the lamp
It has been burning for a thousand years
It will never be dried up
Unless the wind puts out
The silent oil lamp in the hall
The road is marching forward to the top of the mountain
The Most quiet is that old star
Who lives in the top of the mountain
It is far away from the complex details
Under the mountain
And separates itself from this world
It is unafraid of the dark night
It gets bright by itself and
Died by itself
It is silent
When the dawn comes
It leaves quietly
Night passed the lights of dawn appearance
She erases the fogs and water in her head
And dresses in that light
She is listening again
To the noise of the sea
Of this world under her feet
The waves of the sea
Surge up the mountain once again
Note: [1] YUE LU MOUNTAIN is located in Changsha city in China
[2]Ai-Wan Pavilion is a famous pavilion in the valley of YUE LU MOUNTAIN
[3] Guqin: Chinese Pin-Yin, it means one kind of ancient music instrument
The paths where thousands of shoes treaded
Which go to the hidden places
The quiet and deserted riverbeds in a wavy leaf
The tree branches placed in the face
The carved marks of time
Ai-Wan Pavilion[2]
Are you silently speaking to yourself
Or to the unreal image of someone who passed away
Time has not modified your background
My shoes are fully stained with the dust of today
But the age of the wind is hard to be distinguished
Wind
Emerges from a cave
With cold air of an old man
And stays in the red beams and posts
Pavilion, it is actually empty
The fragrant cars, the treasured horses and the flying pigeons
Sounds of people, hoofs and birds
Things that come always come
Things that go always go
Only the celestial being left a small trace
His soul is like thin paper
In green glazed antithetical couplet
It was repeatedly dyed red by sunset
Rinsed by heavy rain
Developed by flashed light
Wind is the witness
The white pigeon has slown away in the sunset glow
And will never return
The upturned eaves remain a fantasy of the pigeon
It’s cloth hangs in the tree branches
One of it’s hands
Stretches to a dead leaf
With the shape of a boat
Husky voice reads
A page of the blank book
Thrown away in the road
Wind returns and hides in the woods
In the dusk
All kinds of footsteps gone
The level ground paved with the blue flagstones
Is not loaded at this moment
A dark red maple leaf
Fell down it’s edge
The raging flames of the Fall
Has died in the mountain
This roaming palm
Stays in the edge of the pond
And fixedly gazes at the image in the water
The pond is full of hollowness and lonelyness
The dusk is silent
Which is like sea water
And floods up to the mountain
No place to escape
The dusk is detained in the edge of the woods
Here is empty and without the end
The grave in the woods
Is a symbol of the end
The standing tombstone
Is a substitute of a dead man
Words on the tombstone
Painted by the dim light of the night
This dead man has sank to the underground
A gully under the bridge
Sounds the song of the dripping water
In the rock
Spring water silently flows away
In the darkness
The whirled stone steps
Carry the fallen leaves and the dead branches
One step by one step
To go through to
Winding corridor as an abandoned guqin[3]
Is played by the fingers of the cold moon
And surrounded by the dim light of the night
The mild melody flows in the air
The feet of the moonlight are naked
They gracefully step through the wet lawn
And pass through the dark woods
Then get over the wall of the temple
Quietly open the door of the golden hall
The oil lamp is dim
It lights up emptiness above the round cushion
In the ground
The postures of worship are full of the dust
That man who performed the kowtow
Has thrown away the stone held in his arms
And returned to this world of noise
The opened Confucian classics in the windowsill
Got wet by the moonlight
The bright ripples spread in it
In the morning of spring in March
It is as light in color as water of the Fall
In the most days
But Confucian classics will never be finished
In reading and singing
Tune of a song is older than the rag
Chorus in each evening is
As grand as the golden hall
The evening is repeated like the sea tide
Which is unceasing in coming and leaving
Night is the oil of the lamp
It has been burning for a thousand years
It will never be dried up
Unless the wind puts out
The silent oil lamp in the hall
The road is marching forward to the top of the mountain
The Most quiet is that old star
Who lives in the top of the mountain
It is far away from the complex details
Under the mountain
And separates itself from this world
It is unafraid of the dark night
It gets bright by itself and
Died by itself
It is silent
When the dawn comes
It leaves quietly
Night passed the lights of dawn appearance
She erases the fogs and water in her head
And dresses in that light
She is listening again
To the noise of the sea
Of this world under her feet
The waves of the sea
Surge up the mountain once again
Note: [1] YUE LU MOUNTAIN is located in Changsha city in China
[2]Ai-Wan Pavilion is a famous pavilion in the valley of YUE LU MOUNTAIN
[3] Guqin: Chinese Pin-Yin, it means one kind of ancient music instrument