Tao Yuanming

"Slowly, slowly, the autumn draws to its close. Cruelly cold the wind congeals the dew. Vines and grasses will not be green again— The trees in my garden are withering forlorn. The pure air is cleansed of lingering lees And mysteriously, Heaven's realms are high. Nothing is left of the spent cicada's song, A flock of geese goes crying down the sky. The myriad transformations unravel one another And human life how should it not be hard? From ancient times there was none but had to die, Remembering this scorches my very heart. What is there I can do to assuage this mood? Only enjoy myself drinking my unstrained wine. I do not know about a thousand years, Rather let me make this morning last forever."

"结庐在人境，而无车马喧。 问君何能尔？心远地自偏。 采菊东篱下，悠然见南山。 山气日夕佳，飞鸟相与还。 此中有真意，欲辨已忘言。"

"There were often times when we had no wine to drink, However, this morning we fill the empty beakers. Over the new spring wine midges hover— When will we ever taste its like again? Tables with funeral meats stand piled high before us, Old friends and relatives come and weep beside us. We try to speak but cannot utter words, We try to see but our eyes are dim. Once he used to sleep within the lofty hall, Now he will spend the night out on the lonely moor. Leaving the city gate we accompanied him thither But we were back again before midnight had come."

"白发被双鬓， 肌肤不复实/虽有五男儿, 总不好纸笔/阿舒已二八, 懒惰固无匹/阿宣行治学, 而不爱文术 /雍端年十三 , 不识六与七/通子垂九龄, 但觅梨与栗/天运够如此, 且进杯中物"

"少无适俗韵，性本爱丘山。 误落尘网中，一去三十年。 羁鸟恋旧林，池鱼思故渊。 开荒南野际，守拙归田园。 方宅十余亩，草屋八九间。 榆柳荫后椋，桃李罗堂前。 暧暧远人村，依依墟里烟。 狗吠深巷中，鸡鸣桑树颠。 户庭无尘杂，虚室有余闲。 久在樊笼里，复得返自然。"

"While picking asters 'neath the Eastern fence, My gaze upon the Southern mountain rests."

"I am free from ties and can live a life of retirement. When I rise from sleep, I play with books and harp."

"My little children are playing at my side, Learning to talk, they babble unformed sounds. These things have made me happy again And I forget my lost cap of office. Distant, distant I gaze at the white clouds: With a deep yearning I think of the Sages of Antiquity."

"Let us drink and enjoy together the wine you have brought: For my course is set and cannot now be altered."

"天地长不没，山川无改时。 草木得常理，霜露荣悴之。 谓人最灵智，独复不如兹。 适见在世中，奄去靡归期。 奚觉无一人，亲识岂相思。 但余平生物，举目情凄洏。 我无腾化术，必尔不复疑。 愿君取吾言，得酒莫苟辞。"

"I would gladly wander in Paradise, But it is far away and there is no road."

"While you rested in the shade, I left you a while: But till the end we shall be together. Our joint existence is impermanent: Sadly together we shall slip away. That when the body decays Fame should also go Is a thought unendurable, burning the heart. Let us strive and labour while yet we may To do some deed that men will praise."

"God can only set in motion: He cannot control the things he has made."

"You had better go where Fate leads— Drift on the Stream of Infinite Flux, Without joy, without fear: When you must go—then go."

"Let me then remember, to calm my heart's distress, That the Sages of old were often in like case."

"I do not mind if my cottage is rather small So long as there's room enough for bed and mat. Often and often the neighbours come to see me And with brave words discuss the things of old. Rare writings we read together and praise: Doubtful meanings we examine together and settle."

"At a single glance I survey the whole Universe. He will never be happy, whom such pleasures fail to please!"

"Longingly—I think of my friends, But neither boat nor carriage comes."

"In former days I wanted wine to drink; The wine this morning fills the cup in vain. I see the spring mead with its floating foam, And wonder when to taste of it again. The feast before me lavishly is spread, My relatives and friends beside me cry. I wish to speak but lips can shape no voice, I wish to see but light has left my eye. I slept of old within the lofty hall, Amidst wild weeds to rest I now descend. When once I pass beyond the city gate I shall return to darkness without end."

"His literary style is spare and limpid, with scarcely a surplus word. His sincerity is true and traditional, his verbalized inspirations supple and relaxed. When one reads his works, the fine character of the poet himself comes to mind. Ordinary men admire his unadorned directness. But such lines of his as "With happy face I pour the spring-brewed wine," and "The sun sets, no clouds are in the sky," are pure and refined in the beauty of their air. These are far from being merely the words of a farmer. He is the father of recluse poetry past and present."

"The only poet I am particularly fond of is Tao Yuanming. Although the poems he wrote are not many in number, they are unadorned and yet beautiful, spare and yet ample … Neither Cao Zhi, Liu Zhen, Bao Zhao, Xie Lingyun, Li Bo, nor Du Fu achieves his stature … This is not to say that I only like Tao for his poetry. I am deeply impressed by what he was as a man."

"The greatest poet and most harmonious product of Chinese culture."

"Tao Yuanming represents the most perfectly harmonious and well-rounded character in the entire Chinese literary tradition. There is a simplicity in his life, as well as in his style, which is awe-inspiring and a constant reproach to more brilliant and more sophisticated natures. And he stands, today, as a perfect example of the true lover of life, because in him the rebellion against worldly desires did not lead him to attempt a total escape, but has reached a harmony with the life of the senses."

"It is this fundamental love of simplicity that distinguishes T'ao Ch'ien's verses from the works of court poets of his time, who utilized obscure allusions and complicated stylistic devices to fashion verses that appealed only to the highly educated. T'ao Ch'ien, by way of contrast, seldom made any literary allusions whatsoever, and he wrote for the widest possible audience. As a consequence, he was slighted by his era's critics and only fully appreciated by later generations of readers."

"In addition to his importance as a literary model, T'ao Ch'ien is admired for his decision to remain true to himself rather than subordinate his feelings to the demands of conventional life-styles. The writers and intellectuals of his day were, broadly speaking, split into the opposing camps of conformist Confucians and antiauthoritarian Taoists, and when T'ao Ch'ien rejected the former it would have been normal for him to have gravitated to the vagabond life of the latter. He chose, however, to pilot his own idiosyncratic course between these polar opposites, and he suffered much personal hardship in so doing. Even more important than his position in literary history or his personal qualities, however, is the candid beauty of his poetry. The freshness of his images, his homespun but Heaven-aspiring morality, and his steadfast love of rural life shine through the deceptively humble words in which they are expressed, and as a consequence he has long been regarded one of China's most accomplished and accessible poets."

"Tao Yuanming's poetry is well-known for the simplicity, truthfulness, elegance and broadness of style. His pastoral poems are more natural, fresh and sincere. This pure poetic style is closely linked with his personal experience. It's true that he lived like a recluse, but he was by no means solemn completely. His pastoral poems always reveal humanity from which we observe that he not only attached great importance to the unity of man and nature, filling his mind and spirit to objects but also plowed him, showing the deepest sympathy to the labor people. The style is the man. Tao Yuanming's pastoral poems, which reflect his personality, decide his wording style to be simple, concise, natural and fresh."