[A.D. 800]

    For ten years I never left my books;
    I went up ... and won unmerited praise. 
    My high place I do not much prize;
    The joy of my parents will first make me proud. 
    Fellow students, six or seven men,
    See me off as I leave the City gate. 
    My covered couch is ready to drive away;
    Flutes and strings blend their parting tune. 
    Hopes achieved dull the pains of parting;
    Fumes of wine shorten the long road.... 
    Shod with wings is the horse of him who rides
    On a Spring day the road that leads to home.

[12] ESCORTING CANDIDATES TO THE EXAMINATION HALL

[A.D. 805]

    At dawn I rode to escort the Doctors of Art;
    In the eastern quarter the sky was still grey. 
    I said to myself, “You have started far too soon,”
    But horses and coaches already thronged the road. 
    High and low the riders’ torches bobbed;
    Muffled or loud, the watchman’s drum beat. 
                Riders, when I see you prick
    To your early levee, pity fills my heart. 
    When the sun rises and the hot dust flies
    And the creatures of earth resume their great strife,
    You, with your striving, what shall you each seek? 
    Profit and fame, for that is all your care. 
    But I, you courtiers, rise from my bed at noon
    And live idly in the city of Ch`ang-an. 
    Spring is deep and my term of office spent;
    Day by day my thoughts go back to the hills.

[13] IN EARLY SUMMER LODGING IN A TEMPLE TO ENJOY THE MOONLIGHT

[A.D. 805]

    In early summer, with two or three more
    That were seeking fame in the city of Ch`ang-an,
    Whose low employ gave them less business
    Than ever they had since first they left their homes,—­
    With these I wandered deep into the shrine of Tao,
    For the joy we sought was promised in this place. 
    When we reached the gate, we sent our coaches back;
    We entered the yard with only cap and stick. 
    Still and clear, the first weeks of May,
    When trees are green and bushes soft and wet;
    When the wind has stolen the shadows of new leaves
    And birds linger on the last boughs that bloom. 
    Towards evening when the sky grew clearer yet
    And the South-east was still clothed in red,
    To the western cloister we carried our jar of wine;
    While we waited for the moon, our cups moved slow. 
    Soon, how soon her golden ghost was born,
    Swiftly, as though she had waited for us to come. 
    The beams of her light shone in every place,
    On towers and halls dancing to and fro. 
    Till day broke we sat in her clear light
    Laughing and singing, and yet never grew tired. 
    In Ch`ang-an, the place of profit and fame,
    Such moods as this, how many men know?