When I was a windy boy and a bit
And the black spit of the chapel fold,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of women),
I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood,
The rude owl cried like a tell-tale tit,
I skipped in a blush as the big girls rolled
Nine-pin down on donkey's common,
And on seesaw sunday nights I wooed
Whoever I would with my wicked eyes,
The whole of the moon I could love and leave
Thy beauty haunts me heart and soul,
Oh, thou fair Moon, so close and bright;
Thy beauty makes me like the child
That cries aloud to own thy light:
The little child that lifts each arm
To press thee to her bosom warm.
Though there are birds that sing this night
With thy white beams across their throats,
Let my deep silence speak for me
I am the type you are supposed to fear
Black and foreign
Big and dreadlocks
An uneducated grass eater.
I talk in tongues
I chant at night
I appear anywhere,
I sleep with lions
And when the moon gets me
Minnie and Winnie
Slept in a shell.
Sleep, little ladies!
And they slept well.
Pink was the shell within,
Sounds of the great sea
In the tenth year of Yuanhe I was banished and demoted to be assistant official in Jiujiang. In the summer of the next year I was seeing a friend leave Penpu and heard in the midnight from a neighbouring boat a guitar played in the manner of the capital. Upon inquiry, I found that the player had formerly been a dancing-girl there and in her maturity had been married to a merchant. I invited her to my boat to have her play for us. She told me her story, heyday and then unhappiness. Since my departure from the capital I had not felt sad; but that night, after I left her, I began to realize my banishment. And I wrote this long poem -- six hundred and twelve characters.
I was bidding a guest farewell, at night on the Xunyang River,
Where maple-leaves and full-grown rushes rustled in the autumn.
I, the host, had dismounted, my guest had boarded his boat,
And we raised our cups and wished to drink-but, alas, there was no music.
For all we had drunk we felt no joy and were parting from each other,
When the river widened mysteriously toward the full moon --
We had heard a sudden sound, a guitar across the water.
Host forgot to turn back home, and guest to go his way.
A huge yellow moon is glimmering, and a chill wind's in ghostly trees.
This night was made for magic, so we'll get dressed in our very best!
Sable black lipstick for me, and a smoky gray for my brooding eyes,
And lovely rosy red makeup for you, crowned by a silky, orange wig.
The obsidian night is still very young, and we will be gone for hours,
Like juicy fruit patiently ripening, in locations of sunshine and green.
My sleek, midnight black dress, and matching pointy hat, will be a hit,
And your red nose and bright polka dots, will be the height of fashion!
Crows are cawing, the cats are screeching, and bats are flying north-
The luxurious party is waiting, and will be filled with the best dressed.
glowing green in pearl moonlight
of red rose rapture
Indolent June moon, treasured
and shrouded by starry night
Fireflies of summer
Come and go, mysterious
at indigo night
just past the purple sunset
under pearl moon
pink fragrant passion
on summer's breeze
Moon moon come and shine
I have finished dinner of mine
your soul is lovely and divine
I offer my love but you decline
the thought of loosing you? I’m afraid.
But love is starting to fade.
mistakes after mistakes, should I have faith?
after all I’ve done? Was I just played?
The fields are bursting
and jaded trees await fate,
among crowding blooms.
Moonlit nights attract mauve dreams.
The lusty year has ripened.