From Renditions No. 14 (Autumn 1980)


A Ballad of Beautiful Women
By Tu Fu
Translated by Mimi Chan and Piers Gray

On the third day of the third moon, gentle breezes blow
Upon the waters by wose edge they come and go,
Women of richest beauty (thoughts as pure as snow).
Fine bones curve soft flesh (soft as nightfall's glow).
In late Spring, lace graces rich silks that shine
With gleaming Peacocks stitched in gold

and Unicorns in argentine.

And what do they wear upon their heads?
Rich silks, blue-green, grace their temples' line.
And what do they wear that flares behind?
Behind, pearled bodiced skirts downward flow.

And here the Lady's kith and kin drift to and fro
Secure in the titles of powerful States.
From steaming green cauldrons, purple camel humps

bulge,

In shimmering crystal bowls, white-fleshed fish

await
Rhinoceros chopsticks that toy in torpor.
Belled knives ring, as deft slices heap unheeded
plates

While Eunuch's horses skim above unstirred dust below
Bearing, from royal chefs, delicacies

which alone for beauties flow.

And now ghost-stirring sounds of flutes and drums grow
As hordes of power's minions are seen advancing
Before the approaching rider: sauntering
Steps condescend to tread rugs only power can know.
Willow-down covers the white water-weed, like snow;
A blue bird, in its beak, bears aloft a red bandeau.
The lustre of such power can warm hands sans kindling:
But take care. This Prime Minister's glare

can cancel
tomorrow.


Tu Fu (712-770)





Copyright 1980, The Chinese University of Hong Kong. This material is for researchers' personal use only.
If you need to reprint it, please contact us: Renditions.

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