Li Po Addresses Yuan Tan-ch’iu of East Mountain

 Kenneth Morris occasionally made beautiful illuminated manuscripts of his poems.  Here is one of "Li Po Addresses Yuan Tan-ch’iu of East Mountain."  Below it is transcription.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Li Po Addresses Yuan Tan-ch’iu of East Mountain

You dwell on Tung Shan worshiping
   Pure mountain-beauty year on year;
And sleep, o’ nights of bloom-breath’d Spring.
   Mist-quilted, mountain-pillowed, here;
   These mountain forests far and near;
These mountain flowers; this mountain dew:
   Where are there comrades half so dear?
Yuan Tan-ch’iu, how I envy you!

The mountain breeze, come wandering
   Through pine-woods, whispers in your ear
Mysterious tidings; the storms sing
   What news your inward god would hear.
   How should one hate or grieve or fear
Who has this Tung Shan for his true
   And private friend? O Mountaineer
Yuan Tan-ch’iu, how I envy you!

No waterfalls, spray-rainbowed, fling
   Their beauty down these chasms sheer,
But through your soul go passaging,.
   And with strange sweetness, cold and clear,
   Purge clean your mind of every drear
And human thought till, made anew,
   You are Mountain-Sage and Mountain-Seer—
Yuan Tan-ch’iu, how I envy you!

To be our Lord the Mountain’s peer,
   And know his dreamings through and through—
What joy, though all the world should jeer!
   Yuan Tan-ch’iu, how I envy you!

The Theosophical Path, November 1931

Wang Wei Praises the River Wings-of-a-Kingfisher

Wang Wei Praises the River Wings-of-a-Kingfisher

I never go down the Yellow-Chrysanthemum River
   But rocked in my boat on Wings-of-a-Kingfisher Stream
That winds between silent and people-less peaks forever
   Mirroring cloud-high bluffs where the pine-woods dream.
I trust I may never go down to the beautiful river
   But by secretly-winding Wings-of-a-Kingfisher Stream.

Through a murmurous recitative and continual pondering
   Stone-broken jargon of many-voiced waters I go;
Boat-borne, through mazy leagues in the wilderness wandering,
   By shadowy reaches where the water-chestnuts grow;
And always, from near or far, aware of the pondering
   Stone-broken jargon and recitative as I row.

I never go down to Yellow-Chrysanthemum River
   Through the still, deep reaches where greenly the reeds are glassed,
But the morning glows, and my heart and the ripples quiver
   With the peace that will dawn when the lives of the stars are passed.
I never go worshipping down to the beautiful river,
   But I know the Eternal broods where the reeds are glassed.

The Theosophical Path, November 1929