Mr. Charlie

I came across this next poet in a book of Chinese poetry I found in our local library. I don't know anything about him other than his words strike a certain chord.


Bend down—and there it is:
No need to wrest it from others.
With the Way, in complete agreement—
The mere touch of a hand is spring:
The way we come upon blooming flowers,
The way we see the year renew itself.
What comes this way will stay;
What is gotten by force will drain away.
A secluded man in an empty mountain,
As rain drops, picks some blades of duckweed.
Freely to feel the flash of dawn:
Leisurely, with the celestial balance.

- Wang Wei




In these quiet years growing calmer,
Lacking knowledge of the world’s affairs,
I stop worrying how things will turn out.
My quiet mind makes no subtle plans.
Returning to the woods I love
A pine-tree breeze rustles in my robes.
Mountain moonlight fills the lute’s bowl,
Shows up what learning I have left.
If you ask what makes us rich or poor
Hear the Fisherman’s voice float to shore.

- Wang Wei




We follow you home to the Mountain.
Back again through oak and green pine.
Beyond the White Clouds you stay forever.
Only this stream runs down to Humankind.

- Wang Wei




Middle-aged now, following the Way.
Settled at evening near the Chungnan slopes.
Delight, and I wander off by myself
Searching for what I need to see alone.
I climb up to the roots of the streams,
Sit and watch the White Clouds pass,
Meet the old man of the woods,
Talk and laugh, forget to go home.

- Wang Wei




Here there are no others like me
Sitting alone in meditation.
Look out here from the mountain.
All you will see is White Clouds.

- Wang Wei




Not knowing where the temple was,
I travelled miles on hills of cloud,
Through ancient pines, no good tracks,
Towards bell sounds across deep gorges.
Stream’s noise where rocks are high.
Cool sun in fir branches.
Sit at night by the mountain pool,
Seeking to reign in the Dragon.

- Wang Wei




No urge now to write poems.
Old age is my companion.
In error they made me a poet in a past life.
Some lost existence had me as a painter.
Unable to get rid of ingrained habits,
The world has come to know me by them.
My name, my style, they may grasp, it’s true.
But my mind and heart they’ll never know.

- Wang Wei




I have a place on the Chungnan slopes.
Sitting there you can see the Mountains.
No one there, no guests, the gate is closed.
No plans all day, just time and silence.
Nothing stops you gazing and dreaming.
Why not come and try to find me there?

- Wang Wei