Du Fu #杜甫, “Three Quatrains #3”

Two yellow orioles cry in the green willows.
A line of white egrets climbs to the blue sky.
A window frames the Western mountains’ snow, a thousand years old.
At the door anchors a boat to Wu, ten thousand miles away.

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Du Fu #杜甫, “Four Quatrains, No.2”

I wanted to build a weir, where spray-clouds cover the rapids.
It’s April. I’m startled by the cold sound of rain.
Once there were flood-dragon dens in this green stream.
I dare not make of bamboo and rock anything solid as mountains.

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Du Fu #杜甫, Quatrains, No.2”

I wanted to build a weir, where spray-clouds cover the rapids.
It’s April. I’m startled by the cold sound of rain.
Once there were flood-dragon dens in this green stream.
I dare not make of bamboo and rock anything solid as mountains.

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Du Fu #杜甫, "Four Quatrains, #1"

West of the hall bamboo shoots grow large. I can't open the door.
North of the ditch a row of peppers turns their backs on town.
When the plums are ripe, I'll let Old Zhu eat them with me.
When the pines are tall, I'll debate them with Ruan Sheng.

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