What ancient poems describe osmanthus? Latest compilation
Three Poems on the Osmanthus of the East City, No. 3
——Tang Dynasty · Bai Juyi
Far off I know the osmanthus in heaven stands alone; I ask Chang'e if she would want another one.
Luckily the moon palace has idle land to spare; why not plant two more right in the middle there?
Osmanthus of the East City
——Tang Dynasty · Bai Juyi
Its seeds once fell from the Tianzhu Temple; its roots now coil in the city of Helü.
It must have drifted down with the southern wind, and falling into the mortal world, it sprouts where it may.
There Is a Tree
——Tang Dynasty · Bai Juyi
There is a tree called the red osmanthus, fragrant in all four seasons. Its blossoms cluster bright as night snow, its leaves cut green as spring clouds.
Its windblown shadow is clear as water, its frosted branches cold as jade. It alone claims the seclusion of the little hill, and suffers no common bird to roost.
Osmanthus Before the Hall
——Tang Dynasty · Bai Juyi
The frost-defying tree on the ridge of Mount Tiantai, the sprawling clump before the Sima's hall.
Both alike do not grow within the bright moon; yet in the mountains they still surpass those in the dust.
Remembering Jiangnan
——Tang Dynasty · Bai Juyi
Remembering Jiangnan, most of all I remember Hangzhou: seeking osmanthus seeds in the moonlight at the mountain temple, watching the tidal bore from the commandery pavilion, when shall I visit again?
Osmanthus of Mount Lu
——Tang Dynasty · Bai Juyi
Luxuriant is the osmanthus in the moon, its roots set against the blue sky. The heavenly wind rises around the moon, blowing its seeds down to the human world.
Drifting, where did it come to rest? It fell upon Mount Lu. It grew as a osmanthus on the rock, its leaves fresh as cut jade.
Its branches and trunk grow larger day by day, its roots firmer and stronger day by day. It does not return to the moon in heaven, but ages in vain among the mountains.
From Mount Lu to Xianyang, the road is three or four thousand li. No one transplants it, to bring it into the Shanglin Garden.
It cannot match the red-flowered tree, forever planted before the warm chamber.
Spring in the Moon Palace
——Tang Dynasty · Mao Wengxi
In the crystal palace the osmanthus blooms; how many times have the immortals come to see? Red blossoms and golden stamens embroider the layered terrace; low they tilt the agate cup.
The jade rabbit and silver toad vie to guard it, Chang'e and her maidens play and lean close. From afar they hear the ninefold music of the celestial harmony; the Jade Emperor himself comes to watch.
Bird Cries in the Ravine
——Tang Dynasty · Wang Wei
When men are at leisure, osmanthus flowers fall; in the still night the spring mountain is empty.
The rising moon startles the mountain birds, which cry from time to time in the spring ravine.
Osmanthus in the Mountains
——Tang Dynasty · Yong Yuzhi
Eight trees brush the crimson sky, green and unwithering through all four seasons.
Where does the autumn wind rise? It first sways the longest branches.
Osmanthus Seeds at Tianzhu Temple on the Night of the Fifteenth Day of the Eighth Month
Lingyin Temple
——Tang Dynasty · Song Zhiwen
The Vulture Peak rises lush and towering; the dragon palace is locked in silence. From the tower one watches the sunrise over the sea; the gate faces the tidal bore of the Zhejiang.
Osmanthus seeds fall from within the moon; heavenly fragrance drifts beyond the clouds. Grasping vines to climb the pagoda far, hollowing wood to fetch spring water from afar.
Though frost is thin, the flowers bloom all the more; though ice is light, the leaves have not withered. From youth I have loved the distant and strange; seeking such scenes cleanses the worldly clamor.
I wait to enter the road to Mount Tiantai, and watch myself cross the stone bridge.
Moonlit Night
——Tang Dynasty · Li Shangyin
Beneath the grass the crickets sing, frost on the leaves; the red railings stretch far, pressing down on the lake's light.
The rabbit is cold, the toad is chilled, the osmanthus blossoms white; on this night Chang'e must be heartbroken.
Twenty Miscellaneous Poems Written in Spring Twilight Thinking of Pingquan · Mountain Osmanthus
——Tang Dynasty · Li Deyu
I love the trees in the mountains, their profuse blossoms fresh to the eye. Facing the wind they scatter broken brocade; in the sun they shimmer like tangled mist.
Their shadows enter the bottom of the spring pool; their fragrance congeals before the moonlit pavilion. How would one know, a solitary guest, that I rely on them as my crimson strings?
Ode to Osmanthus
——Liang Dynasty · Fan Yun
In the south there are eight trees, flourishing in every season.
If one knows not the bitterness of wind and frost, how can one know the time of falling?
Ode to Osmanthus
——Southern Song Dynasty · Yang Wanli
It is not a mortal planting; it was moved here from within the moon.
A single trace of fragrance from the Guanghan Palace, blown until the whole mountain blooms.
Osmanthus at the Ninglu Hall
——Song Dynasty · Yang Wanli
I dreamed of riding a white phoenix up to the azure palace, straight across the Milky Way into the moon palace. My body was in the fragrant world of Guanghan; I awoke to the osmanthus wind beyond the blinds.
Snowflake-like petals splay in four directions, cut from goose-yellow; golden grains by the thousand, like bran sprinkled on a dew-filled pouch. Look and look, how big can they be? How do they hold so much fragrance?
Silk-Washing Stream
——Song Dynasty · Mao Xu
A single yellow grain on the green-jade branch; in the green gauze tent the dream-soul is fragrant. At dawn, with wind and moon, I step into the new cool.
Chanting, I lean on the painted railing thinking of Li He; laughing, I hold the jade axe and resent Wu Gang. The white maiden does not marry, for whom does she adorn herself?
Partridge in the Sky
——Song Dynasty · Li Qingzhao
Dim and pale, light yellow, its nature gentle; its feeling distant, its traces far, only its fragrance remains. Why need it be pale green or deep red? It is naturally the finest among flowers.
The plum must be jealous, the chrysanthemum should be ashamed; where it blooms by the painted railing it crowns the Mid-Autumn. The poet may be too heartless, why was it not gathered in those years?
Broken Form of the Silk-Washing Stream
——Song Dynasty · Li Qingzhao
Kneaded and broken, ten thousand specks of gold so light; cut into green jade, its leaves layer on layer. Its bearing and spirit are like Yanfu, so bright and vivid.
The plum stamens, layer on layer, how vulgar they are; the lilac, a thousand knots, bitterly coarse. Its scent seeps through the sorrowful one's thousand-li dream, yet it is heartless.
Thanks for the Two Osmanthus Trees Sent to Me
——Song Dynasty · Ouyang Xiu
A guest prized the fragrant clump, and moved its roots from a secluded valley. To cherish the delight of the mountains, he loved this peerless thing beneath the cliff.
At dawn the dew and autumn light float; pure it answers the bend of the medicine railing. Wait until the profuse flowers turn white, and invite you to enjoy their fragrance.
Ode to the Rock Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Zhu Xi
Gracefully stands the osmanthus beneath the rock, alone fragrant as the year turns late. Its leaves are dense, a thousand layers of green; its flowers open in ten thousand specks of yellow.
Its heavenly fragrance gives rise to pure thoughts; cloud shadows guard its immortal adornment. Who understands the heart of the noble recluse, vainly chanting the chapter on summoning the hermit?
Ode to the Rock Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Zhu Xi
Dew moistens the golden stamens; wind stirs the green-jade branches. A thousand trees lean toward shedding, yet this tree alone is lush and full.
It cannot share the tune of the treetops, nor keep time with those by the fence. Climbing to pick it, fragrance fills my sleeves; I sigh, sharing the same heart's hope.
Osmanthus Before the Railing
——Song Dynasty · Mei Yaochen
The mountain is full with no evil trees, only clumps of green osmanthus.
Its secluded fragrance has not yet ceased; flying birds carry off the fading red.
I do not see the poet of the Li Sao, haggard, chanting in the autumn wind.
Rock Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Zeng Ji
Golden grains of jade cling fine to the branches; blue clouds cut the leaves evenly. Round and round, the osmanthus beneath the rock; outstanding, the cassia among trees.
The river trees sigh in the wind; the garden flowers droop in gloom. No rich perfume can compare to this; how else to comfort a secluded dwelling?
Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Zhu Shuzhen
It presses down the west wind and commands all fragrances; the whole of autumn's beauty busies itself for it. One branch, pale, set beneath the study window; both the person and the flower's heart are each fragrant.
The moon waits to be full when the flowers are just right; after the flowers near their end, the moon still wanes. One should know that things in heaven and the human world do not all owe their pure autumn to a single moment.
Song of the Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Mao Pang
On the jade steps the osmanthus shadow is graceful in autumn; the sky unfurls a screen of floating clouds. Chang'e lies drunk asleep in the crystal hall; the old toad keeps no watch, and the last flowers fall.
Green moss suddenly grows, offspring of the frosty moon; immortal fragrance, cold and clear, pearl calyxes. Graceful by the stone, for whom does it bloom? Fragrant mist clings to one, clear to the very marrow.
Deep in the night, drunk on the moon, the cold draws near; the roseleaf raspberry turns heartbreak-thin. The cloud-playing fairy wears pale silk; her misty skirt bears no embroidered mandarin ducks.
In whose eyes is this cold fragrance cherished? Chanting coldly, I summon the plum blossom's spirit. Xiaoman washes the glass cup for me; at evening the autumn elder's grape turns green.
Ode to Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Lü Shengzhi
It alone claims the three autumn months and presses down all fragrances; why need it be orange-green or orange-yellow? Since its seed was divided from within the moon, its fragrance truly drifts from the edge of the sky.
Its clear shadow does not disdain the white of autumn dew; its new clumps especially bear the dusk mist's grey. The high branch has already been broken by a skillful hand; ten thousand measures of rare fragrance stored in a brocade pouch.
Tangduo Song · Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Liu Guo
Reed leaves fill the sandbar; cold sand bears a shallow stream. After twenty years I cross the South Tower again. The boat moored beneath the willow is not yet steady; how many days? Again it is Mid-Autumn.
The Yellow Crane's broken promontory; has anyone who looked back ever come? The old rivers and mountains are all new sorrow. I would buy osmanthus and carry wine along, but after all it is not like the wanderings of youth.
Ode to the Rock Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Xie Yi
The frivolous west wind has not yet brought frost; at night it kneads yellow snow into autumn light.
Having crushed six-petaled flowers, four still remain; it is just that heavenly flowers bear even more fragrance.
Autumn Moon over the Calm Lake
——Song Dynasty · Wang Wei (Wang Hui)
Ten thousand acres of cold light spread in a single night; where the ice-wheel travels, not a wisp of cloud.
The Vulture Peak is crossed from afar by the cold west wind; osmanthus seeds fall in profusion, dotting the jade flask.
Pure Serene Music · Remembering Enjoying Osmanthus at Wujiang
——Song Dynasty · Xin Qiji
In youth I drank deeply; I remember sobering up toward Wujiang. The bright moon round and round, the tall tree's shadow; ten li of water, sunk in cold mist.
For the most part just a speck of palace yellow, yet in the human world it relies on its fragrance. I fear it is the autumn wind and dew that dye the whole world fragrant.
Pure Serene Music · A Song of Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Xin Qiji
Bright moon, autumn dawn; the emerald canopy, round and round, is lovely. Crushed and cut gold, made so small; all hidden by the leaves.
Break one off, but let it not be like the years before; the small window has its highs and lows. There is no place to put so much fragrance; only two or three sprigs will do.
Pure Serene Music · Again on Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Xin Qiji
The east garden faces the dawn; gust after gust of west wind is fine. It rouses the immortal Golden Little One, decked in exquisite emerald feathers.
When a single branch opens by the pillow, the gauze curtains and emerald drapes hang low. So carefully does it shield it, yet the wind has already come to the window.
Fragrance of Osmanthus · Moved by Osmanthus, Sent to Official Lü
——Song Dynasty · Chen Liang
The sky is high, the air austere; just as the moonlight is clear, autumn's face is newly washed. The osmanthus seeds are first gathered; all thirty-six palaces are filled.
It does not shrink from scattering down into the human world, for fear the other flowers would think themselves common. Toward the late autumn it calls back the thought of spring; how could it ever be lonely?
It is heaven's leftover fragrance, its remaining scent; strange that one tree's fragrant wind continues for ten li. Sitting facing it, I see only color floating in golden grains.
The hibiscus only knows how to add sorrow; still worse the east fence's desolate yellow chrysanthemum. To enter the season is too early, to go against the season too far; it loves to seek the lofty footprint.
Two Poems Replying to Xu Juezhi's Gift of Osmanthus and a Coconut-Shell Tea Bowl
——Northern Song Dynasty · Huang Tingjian
All things seek one another, in glory and in decline; since my old friend departed, my temples have turned to silk. If you would know where I am in my late years, I only say there is an osmanthus branch in the mountains.
Jiayang Has Utterly No Osmanthus, by Chance I Got One Branch, and Wrote This in Jest
——Southern Song Dynasty · Lu You
Long a guest in the red dust, I did not pity myself; my eyes brightened at first sight of the Guanghan immortal. Though it yields to the fence chrysanthemum that blooms at the same time, it still takes precedence over the river plum by one move.
Heavy dew dampens its fragrance on the secluded path at dawn; the slanting sun warms its stamens, lovely at the small window. Who else will steam it with agarwood? The golden duck incense burner and splendid lamps vex my drunken sleep.
Good News
——Song Dynasty · Zhang Xiaoxiang
A single osmanthus flower, treasured, newly picked by jade-slender fingers. Thrust deep into the distant mountain of her hair, it claims ten-tenths of autumn's beauty.
The whole garden of peach and plum clamors in the spring wind, flooding with red and white. How can they compare to this lightly adorned, lovely face, companion to the immortal guest of Penglai?
Golden Coin
——Song Dynasty · Anonymous
Last night the golden wind blew; yellow leaves scattered wildly down the steps. Listening before the window to the banana leaves beaten by rain. Everywhere the pond, watching the windblown lotus wither.
The scene is desolate, and all the stages and song pavilions lie idle. Leaning alone on the railing, there is only the osmanthus, so elegant. It breathes out clear fragrance, surpassing orchid and musk.
Like golden ramparts made up, one thinks painting could hardly depict it. Picked by slender hands, in a gall-bladder vase, one branch so free and easy.
Waves Washing the Sand
——Song Dynasty · Wang Yan
The moonlight is perfectly round. Wind and dew, lovely and fair. In the osmanthus fragrance I lean on the railing. The Milky Way slants across, the sky like water; the jade mirror's light is cold.
Hastily the cups and dishes are set out. Facing each other, grey faces. Let the white maiden not begrudge a little lingering. The autumn air is evenly divided, the toad and rabbit full; each parting is a whole year.
Magpie Bridge Immortal
——Song Dynasty · Guan Jian
At the eastern highland garden, hidden in seclusion, after the osmanthus opens, its fragrance spreads ten li across Jiangdong. Because of the fragrance it summoned me to cross the river; silently I do not recall the green buds of the Double Ninth.
In life one should take one's pleasure, in the fine places of official travel; at leisure and in health, do not decline a clear intoxication. Neither cold nor warm, neither cloudy nor clear, it is just the right weather for climbing.
Entering the Pass
——Song Dynasty · Cheng Gai
How good to ponder. Just as the autumn wind blows, the midnight is long. Yet a single point of silver lamp, glowing bright, faces the west window. The quilt is cold. The pillow is cold.
The dew is chill and sad, the moon half over the bed. It shines on one until one is truly heartbroken. Before the window, who soaks osmanthus yellow? The flowers are fragrant. The dream is fragrant.
Stepping to the Toad Palace
——Song Dynasty · Yang Wujiu
The osmanthus is richly fragrant, clear and sleepless. I feel my body is in the Guanghan Palace. I remember my family's consort's old wanderings; the auspicious borneol hides secretly beneath the leaves.
I cannot bear it when the midnight west wind rises. Still fluttering, ten thousand threads slant and fall. Toward dawn, it is the Jetavana Garden, and suddenly I am startled to see gold spread over the ground.
Congratulations to the Bridegroom
——Song Dynasty · Ge Changgeng
The wind carries the shadow of the cold toad. I gaze at the Milky Way; one round wheel, bright and pure, just like a golden cake. I suppose my old friend shares it across a thousand li, making my heart ache and glow.
Helplessly, the sky is long and the night endless. Ten thousand trees stand bleak, the gibbons have ceased their cries; I feel that by the water and beneath the trees it is no human realm. I cannot sleep; the wine is just wearing off.
The hibiscus pond and the wutong well. Silently I do not know what night this is; cold light for ten thousand acres. Youth and romance are full of feeling; how much more on such a fine day and beautiful scene.
One must face this and drink deeply. Everywhere the new cold, yellow leaves dancing and falling; I sigh that this body is like duckweed and stalk. Beneath the osmanthus, the dew is cold.
Partridge in the Sky
——Song Dynasty · Chen Yunping
Who plays the phoenix flute on the jade terrace? The blue void floats with the autumn of osmanthus. The wind blows fragrance far from the curtains; one leans on the railing waiting for the moon to rise high.
The land of golden grains, the storied tower of stamens and pearls. Girdled with cloud and robed in mist, jade at ease. The immortal maiden has already made her dark-frost pact; then she may ride the whale up to the nine heavens.
Drunk and Bewildered · A Bushel of Pearls
——Song Dynasty · Zhou Bangyan
Woven gold, fine and delicate. The autumn wind is tender; the osmanthus first takes hold. The people in the storied tower of stamens and pearls are hard to match. The flowers dye her tender shoots, shyly mirrored in the emerald cloud canopy.
Its clear fragrance is no weaker than orchid or sweet flag. One branch, like a cloud of hair, neatly combed and swept. In the cool of night it gently shakes the rose calyx. Fragrance fills the lapels; the moon is at the Phoenix Pavilion.
Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Wang Shipeng
In seeking immortality I am deeply ashamed to resemble Master Wu; but I rely on the two words "Cang" over my cottage.
I suspect it was planted in the Guanghan Palace; in one autumn it sends forth heavenly fragrance three times.
Courtyard Full of Fragrance
——Song Dynasty · Xiang Ziyin
The rustling golden wind, the round and round jade dew; the rock flowers bloom in splendor in the autumn light. A smile by the water, and ten li of clear fragrance.
I suspect it is the fairy of the storied palace, her new makeup done, her tender brow painted yellow. In the late frosty sky, the gaudy reds and lovely purples all turn back and wound the heart.
In the center, it breeds true color, and keeps the bright moon; what harm if it shines on it alone? Even tall as orchid and chrysanthemum, they yield it fragrance.
It is given to the layman of Xianglin, who, having hummed softly, leans at leisure on the folding chair. One should know that Heaven made this rare thing to accompany one into old age by the river country.
Courtyard Full of Fragrance
——Song Dynasty · Xiang Ziyin
Its roots coil in the moon cave, its seeds divided from the cloud rocks; one knows full well it is not of the mortal dust. Its leaves cut from colored glaze, its flowers studded thick with golden grains.
The yellow chrysanthemum circles around and yields its place; it befriends orchid and thoroughwort, and shames the mountain wilds. Its clear fragrance reaches far; in the autumn wind for ten li, the nose has already savored it first.
The wine is done. Listen to my words: half my life has been spent north of the river and south of the river. Wherever I have traveled, endless green waters and blue mountains.
I am constantly troubled by this flower, and long to grow old with it, building a hut among them. Were it not for you, what business would Xianglin have, to come playing in the human world?
Pure Serene Music
——Song Dynasty · Xiang Ziyin
Beyond the dust of the human world. A kind of cold fragrant stamen. I suspect the moon maiden was drunk in heaven and playfully crumpled the yellow clouds.
The governor sits whistling by the clear river. Its fragrance soars, its fame flies, matchless. My mood is lodged in the little hill's clumped osmanthus; the poem is finished on the rosewood table by the bright window.
Song of the South
——Song Dynasty · Xiang Ziyin
South of the river they call it rock osmanthus; in Wu they call it osmanthus. With agarwood for bones and a robe of turmeric. Yet I resent the sparse plum that vexes me and comes late to fragrance.
Its leaves borrow the mountain light to grow glossy; its flowers are favored by the water's color, rare. Year after year it lures me to write new poems. It should laugh at Xianglin's indifference, known only to my own heart.
Court Style
——Song Dynasty · Wu Wenying
The bright moon of the eastern sea is locked in cloud shade. The flower is at the moon's heart. Beyond heaven a hidden fragrance lightly seeps; in the human world its immortal shadow is hard to find.
Scissors cut its leaves; one branch, dawn dew, once pinned in green hair. Only the parting is unforgettable, cold mist and sparse rain in deep autumn.
West River Moon
——Song Dynasty · Guo Yingxiang
Washing my eyes, I look again at the ten osmanthus; turning my head, three autumns have already passed. In life one meets the pit and rides the current. How much more so when there are flowers and wine.
If the flowers have feeling for a person, the wine can drown my sorrow. I wipe and rub the golden stamens, floating in the golden cup. Compared to chrysanthemum petals, is it better or not?
West River Moon
——Song Dynasty · Guo Yingxiang
Ten osmanthus surpass five willows; the ninth autumn outdoes the three springs. Lushly, golden grains breathe out rare fragrance. It has its own natural charm.
Do not envy the one branch plucked high; let it be heard ten li away. If before the cup there is one like a flower, beg a little to pin in your hair.
Telling the Heart
——Song Dynasty · Han Yuanji
Sparse and dense before it opens. It adorns the most profuse branches. Clearly it claims all autumn thoughts, letting the dawn wind blow.
Golden threads fine, emerald gauze hanging low. West of the painted railing. Even Chang'e says, a kind of hidden fragrance, fitting in several places.
West River Moon
——Song Dynasty · Cao Xun
Rosy clouds richly draped in emerald; morning light deftly climbs the coral. The crimson forest alone is permitted to descend to the clear capital. Its fragrance claims the deep rock's mist and rain.
Autumn comes to the Jiuhua Palace; the ochre robe borrows red from profuse pearls. The osmanthus of Guanghan differs from the world's flowers. It does not bear the wind and dew of the human world.
Frosty Sky and Dawn Horn · Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Xie Mao
Green clouds cut into leaves, low guarding the golden dust. It claims all renown among flowers; fragrance and charm, both pure and clean.
Matchless, let me tell you. Its origin is different. Just look at its immortal robe still bearing the dew of the golden court, the moon of the jade steps.
Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Ai Xingfu
The autumn tree sways gracefully, the wind and dew cool; the old toad dropped its seeds and they were planted in the empty hall. The primal color of the center of heaven and earth, leaking the fragrance of the immortals' upper realm.
In poverty I am suddenly startled to find my grain-basket full; in old age I no longer stir with the madness to buy flowers. Do not go up the Yellow Tower in sorrow; to retire to the Huai mountains is a long delight.
The moth-brow lightly swept is quite charming; her trailing gauze skirt floats in dreams. Cherishing a pure heart, its fragrance reaches far; scattered and fallen, clear tears, hard to repay when drunk.
Drifting clouds on one pillow, lingering through the frosty night; falling leaves in a thousand rows send off the late autumn. How can I bear to seek old traces on the empty steps; her fragrant soul is faint and far, for whom to keep?
Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Hong Mai
So charming, it would claim the autumn light, hiding deep beneath the leaves its golden grains.
All say its hidden fragrance is smelled for ten li; surely its fair fame reaches a thousand villages.
Rock Osmanthus
——Song Dynasty · Zeng Ji
Golden grains of jade cling fine to the branches; blue clouds cut the leaves evenly. Round and round, the osmanthus beneath the rock; outstanding, the cassia among trees.
The river trees sigh in the wind; the garden flowers droop in gloom. No rich perfume can compare to this; how else to comfort a secluded dwelling?
Osmanthus Painted on a Fan Bestowed on Attending Ministers
——Song Dynasty · Emperor Gaozong of Song
Autumn enters the secluded rock, the osmanthus shadow clumped; its fragrance deep in golden grains, lighting the forest crimson.
It must have attended the Queen Mother's feast at the Jade Pool, and been dyed with the dawn clouds, descending from Guanghan.
Assigned Topics at the Yushan Pavilion
——Yuan Dynasty · Gu Ying
The flying gallery looks down upon the lotus isle; beyond the railing a hidden flower breathes in the moonlight. The heavenly wind blows in silence an ancient fragrance; clear dew, cold and cold, wets the autumn garden.
A cloud ladder ten thousand zhang, reachable by hand; and yet I dream of falling into the clear void palace. In the pavilion the jade rabbit pounding medicine grieves; beneath the tree, riding the phoenix, the white maiden dances.
In the jeweled towers and jade halls a thousand beauties; among them a lean immortal with pale brows. He asks me of West Lake's old wind and moon; how do they compare to the soft dust of the Eastern Flower?
I only see the shadows of mountains and rivers wavering; alone there is a clear radiance that shines through past and present. Waking, I try to write a poem but my thoughts are blank; golden grains fall thick as rain.
Pure Serene Music
——Yuan Dynasty · Zhou Quan
Drinking heavily at the South Tower, I dreamed of the clear void palace. Hearing the Rainbow Garment song, I could hardly recall its score. Vaguely a white phoenix danced in flight.
On the osmanthus branch, autumn light. In the emerald cloud shadow, sparse yellow. The hall is cold, and Chang'e does not close it; she scatters clear fragrance down to the human world.
Osmanthus
——Yuan Dynasty · Ni Zan
The osmanthus keeps its evening color; the curtain's shadow fades the autumn light. Softly, softly, the wind still brings it down; rich and full, the night is not yet half spent.
The jade cord hangs low, the moon wanes; the golden duck censer has ceased to burn incense. Suddenly I think of my old garden; coldly, coldly, the dream of return is long.
Moon Osmanthus
——Ming Dynasty · Li Dongyang
One flower opens each month; the flower opens in its proper season.
It need not boast of rain and dew; carefully it stores ice and snow.
A Branch of Osmanthus
——Ming Dynasty · Yang Sheng'an
In the jeweled forest, green jade is cool; the autumn wind again sends the osmanthus yellow.
Plucked, every branch of golden grains is lovely; pinned in dark clouds of hair, every blossom fragrant.
Mid-Autumn at Tianzhu
——Ming Dynasty · Tang Xianzu
The river tower has no candles, the dew is chill and clear; the wind stirs the jade railings, and laughter is bright.
Where did the osmanthus fall through the night? In the moon there is only the sound of a rolling blind.
West Lake
——Ming Dynasty · Shen Zhiyan
Thin clouds, calm and pale, the blue sky; the clumped osmanthus breathes fragrance in the gentle breeze.
A hundred acres of West Lake, one bright moon; this body is already in the Guanghan Palace.
Osmanthus · Immortal Friend
——Ming Dynasty · Qu You
Drop by drop ground vermilion dyes the pure autumn; light yellow and pale white, all bashful. The golden grains in the starry sky are known to be hard to buy; smashing coral, I regret it was not gathered.
The immortal friend himself transmits the art of the cinnabar furnace; the top scholar must make the tour before the brocade. One branch I mean to beg from Chang'e; surely the flower god will secretly nod.