moon poem ...
... Tjin from "The Dream of Red Mansions", Tsau Hsüä, Gau E
(english below :-))
(in German translation by the European University Press, 2 . à 2176 edition of 2010 pages)
For me, winter is actually a way to me with gardens and the world to other, less practical kind of deal. These lines have it done to me especially grad!
If (a really thick book, many additions would be possible from there, this only this: two almost grown-up girls of the girls apartments, grand daughters, living in a large garden to observe the night of a lunar festival on the moon. you begin to create a poem off the cuff, every turn by two lines with a prescribed Reimmaß, then a resident and local nun to these completed the whole thing. Imagine this one designed Chinese garden in all its splendor before, miniature landscape in perfection, the two (three) sitting on a mountain - curved, and a body of water - deeper in the water reflects the full moon. The couple have just celebrated with the entire clan a party.)
Have fun!
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Hsiang-yun & Dai-yu moon poem
In the eighth moon on the fifteenth
we like Lantern Festival
strolled High shine in the sky the constellations ,
Well on earth sounds joyful music.
flying everywhere today, the cup
everyone's windows are now wide open.
fresh wind makes us shiver shiver and
But it compensated the sight of the night.
Hohn reaps an old man, eager for bread, laughed the girl
Zerteiln melons.
Balsamic blowing air from her Jadestrauch,
Lush flowers standing there in gold lilies.
candles light up the festive meal,
several drinking games the night of fun.
befielt A conductor, which all do,
called three times, the mystery word is clear.
Red is the color of victory in a dice game,
A branch makes the rounds to beat.
lights and shadows fluttering the court,
heaven and earth shine in splendor.
host and guests will be given punishment,
can win only the best poem. When pondering
relying on the windowsill,
deep in thought you are leaning on the gate.
The wine is consumed, the atmosphere still glad
On the hour, no one has taken.
silence Slowly laughter and fun,
Snowy moon remains unique. The hibiscus flowers
already the dew wets,
Albizzienbaum the veil of haze.
Autumn water gushes from the rock,
Falling leaves accumulate on a slope.
pride flashing up there beautiful star,
The toad swallows the silver moon.
The white rabbit stomps Feenmedizin,
flees to the cold palace beauty.
the sky shepherd greets the weaver, to Milky
we drive on the raft.
new moon and full moon always resolve itself off
missing his light, leaving behind the soul.
Almost empty, dripping the water clock, sealing
glows on extinction of the lamplight.
a crane escapes through the frosty reeds,
appears on the grave of poet icy moon.
Meow-yu:
incense burns in the Golden Shell,
candle wax drips on the Jadegeschirr.
flute sound stirs the widow to tears, the cold
Blankets warmed her maid.
Od is the curtain with phoenix patterns,
sense of the setting screen displays colorful decor.
The abundant dew makes the slippery moss;
frosted thick quenched the bamboo fingers.
Once again directed to step around the pond once more climbed the steep
heights!
The bizarre rock like a ghostly,
trees and bushes like tigers and wolves.
shines on stone inscription morning light, shining on wooden panels
the dew.
echoes of a thousand trees Vogelsang,
deep sounds of the canyon of the Apes Cries.
familiar with the path one does not go astray;
those who know the source knows where springs of water.
The bell rings early in the courtyard,
drowns the cock crow in the village rice fragrance.
What sorrow, if fresh, the mood? Why still complain
if nothing oppresses us?
yourself only one shows his feelings, experiences
No stranger, that is my meaning.
end to the gossip, how tired we are, we chat
of verses of fresh tea!
(translated by Rainer Schwarz, Martin Woesler)
. .. from A Dream of Red Mansions, Tsao Hsueh-chin, Kao Ngo
(english version Foreign Language Press Peking 1978)
For me winter is in fact a chance to go deeper into the topic of gardens and the world in a less practical manner. This poem I really love at the moment!
(It really is a rather huge book, which means, I could tell a lot about the background of this text. Only this: Two nearly grown up young ladies of the ladies section of a huge family place, who are living in a garden, one night sit outside and contemplate the moon. They start making a poem following a specific set of meter, each of them repeatedly doing two lines in a row. A nun also living in that place after some time accompanies them and finishes the poem. You can imagine a man-made huge chinese garden in all its glory, miniature landscape in perfection, the two (three) are sitting at a small hill - vaulted, next to a pond - cavity, the water surface shows the moon. The two of them just have celebrated with the whole family clan.
Hsiang-yun & Tai-yu Moon-poem
Mid-autumn‘s fifteenth night is here again....
As on the Feast of Lanterns we stroll round.
The sky above is sprinkled with bright stars....
And everywhere sweet strings and pipes resound.
Goblets fly here and there as men carouse....
No house but has its windows opened wide.
The breeze that softly fans the air is chill....
But bright as day the fine night scene outside.
The greybeard grabbing for a cake is mocked....
Green girls share melons laughing themselves silly.
How fresh the scent of jade osmanthus bloom....
How bright the regal gold of the day-lily.
Wax candles set the sumptuous feast aglow....
Wild drinking games the splendid park confuse.
Opposing sides obey the self-same rule....
Those guessing riddles hear three different clues.
The dice is thrown and wins - the dots are red....
Drums speed the blossom passed from hand to hand.
The courtyard scintillates with limpid light....
A silver splendour merges sky and land.
For hosts and guests alike the same requital....
Verses are written turn and turn about.
One leaning on the barricade to think....
One ,tapping the door‘ to make the scene stand out.
Engrossed as ever, though the wine is drunk....
They savour the last watches of the night.
Then comes a gradual end to talk and laughter....
Nought‘s left now but the waning frosty light.
By the steps, dew-drenched hibiskus blooms at dawn....
In the courtyard mist the albizzia shrouds.
Autumn rapids pour forth through the core of rocks....
Wind-swept leaves gather at the root of clouds.
Lonely and pure the Lady of the Star....
The Silver Toad puffs and deflates the moon.
Elixiers are prepared by the Jade Hare....
The goddess flies towards the Palace of Cold Void.
One soars on high to greet Weaving Maid and Cowherd....
One sails a barque to the heavenly maiden fair.
The orb, forever changing, wanes and waxes....
At each month‘s start and end but its ghost is there.
Clepsydra‘s water has wellnigh run dry....
The lamp by the window is no longer bright.
A stork‘s shadow flits across the chilly pool....
The poet‘s spirit is buried in cold moonlight.
Miao-yu:
The incense in cold tripods has burned out,
And ice-white oil in the jade basin forms;
Fluting recalls a widow‘s lamentations
As a small serving maid the silk quilt warms.
On empty curtains a bright phoenix hangs,
The idle sceens gay ducks and drakes enfold;
Thick dew has made the moss more slippery,
And heavy frost makes bamboo hard to hold.
Strolling again beside the winding lake,
Climbing once more the solitary hill,
The rugged boulders seem contending ghosts,
The gnarled trees wolves and tigers crouching still.
Dawn lights the tortoise pedestral of stone,
On outer trellis now the thick dew falls.
A thousand woodland birds begin to stir,
In vales below a single gibbon calls.
How can we stray on a familiar road?
Why ask the way of fountain-head we know?
The bells chime in Green Lattice Nunnery,
The cocks in Paddy-Sweet Cottage start to crow.
With cause for joy why grieve excessively,
Or needlessly display anxiety?
A maiden‘s feelings none but she can vent -
To whom can she confide her nicety?
Speak not of weariness though night is done,
Over fresh tea let us talk on and on.
(translation: Yang Hsien-yi & Gladis Yang)
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