Từ khi bạn lên đường đến xứ Min,
mặt trăng đã tròn rồi lại tròn thêm một lần nữa.
Gió thu nổi lên trên sông Vị,
lá rụng phủ đầy Trường An.
Tôi nhớ lại buổi tối hôm đó,
đột nhiên sấm sét, rồi mưa lạnh.
Thật lạ là mái chèo gỗ của bạn vẫn chưa về;
tin tức về bạn chỉ kết thúc ở những đám mây trên đại dương.
MENG JUNG, GAINFULLY UNEMPLOYED
Translations by Mike O’ConnorIn: The Clouds Should Know Me By Now: Buddhist Poet Monks of ChinaWisdom Publications, 1998, pp. 11-42.
Your residence, Meng,
overlooks the river;
but you do not eat
the fish in it.
Your robe is common,
sewn of coarse cloth;
silk books alone
fill your bamboo shelves.
The solitary bird
loves the wood;
your heart also
not of the world.
You plan to row away
in a lone boat, and
build another hut—
in which mountains?
Jia Dao [779-843] CHIA TAO WAS A BUDDHIST POET of the Middle T’ang dynasty. Born into an impoverished family near today’s Beijing, he became a Ch’an (Zen) monk early in his youth, with the religious name Wupen. While scant biographical detail of his monastic days exists, his official biography does note that upon arriving at the Eastern Capital, Lo-yang, Chia Tao wrote a poem protesting a curfew forbidding monks to go out after noon. The poem caught the sympathetic eye of the eminent Confucian poet Han Yu (768–824) and led to the latter becoming Chia Tao’s poetry mentor.
Lê Vĩnh Tài, the poet and translator born in 1966 in Buon Ma Thuot, Daklak, Vietnam. The retired doctor is still a resident of the Western Highlands and a businessman in Buon Ma Thuot.