trinkie
27-Mar-07, 20:11
Illness and Idleness
by Po Chu-i
A.D. 812
translated by Arthur Waley.
Illness and idleness give me much leisure.
What do I do with my leisure when it comes?
I cannot bring myself to discard inkstone and brush,
Now and then I make a new poem.
When the poem is made, it is slight and flavourless
A thing of derision to almost every one.
Superior people will be pained at the flatness of the metre;
Common people will hate the plainness of the words;
I sing to myself, then stop and think about it......
by Po Chu-i
A.D. 812
translated by Arthur Waley.
Illness and idleness give me much leisure.
What do I do with my leisure when it comes?
I cannot bring myself to discard inkstone and brush,
Now and then I make a new poem.
When the poem is made, it is slight and flavourless
A thing of derision to almost every one.
Superior people will be pained at the flatness of the metre;
Common people will hate the plainness of the words;
I sing to myself, then stop and think about it......