Lushan pines

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Little Pines

Qiji 864-937 Poking up from the ground barely above my knees, already there's holiness in their coiled roots. Though harsh frost has whitened the hundred grasses, deep in the courtyard, one grove of green! In the late night long-legged spiders stir; crickets are calling from empty stairs. A thousand years from now          who will stroll among the trees, fashioning poems          on their ancient dragon shapes?

Xiǎo Sōng

Qíjǐ 864-937 Fā dì cái guò xī, Pán gēn yǐ yǒu líng. Yánshuāng bǎicǎo bái, Shēnyuàn yī zhū qīng. Hòu yè xiāo sāodòng, Kōng jiē xīshuàng tíng. Shuí Yū qiānsuì wài, Yín rào lǎo lóng xíng.

Translator:

Burton Watson 華茲生

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