What classic poems describe wild geese?
The wild goose is the crown of birds and has been regarded since ancient times as a spiritual creature “complete in the Five Constant Virtues (benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom and fidelity).” In ancient China there were also many poems describing wild geese. Let us take a look together below at what poems describe wild geese!
Early Geese
Tang · Du Mu
By the Golden River in mid-autumn the barbarian bowstrings are drawn; beyond the clouds the startled geese scatter in flight with mournful cries.
Past the Immortal's Palm under the bright moon a lone shadow passes; from the dim-lit Long Gate a few cries come.
You should know the barbarian horsemen are everywhere in throngs; how could they follow the spring breeze back one by one?
Do not disdain the sparsely peopled place by the Xiao and Xiang; there is plenty of wild rice in the water and moss on the banks.
Returning Geese
Tang · Qian Qi
Why do you idly return from the Xiao and Xiang, where the water is blue, the sand bright and moss grows on both banks?
The twenty-five strings are plucked under the night moon; unable to bear the clear resentment, it flies back instead.
Lone Goose
Song · Li Qingzhao
Rising in the morning from the rattan bed and paper-curtained sleep, there is no end to my joyless thoughts.
The incense burns fitfully and the jade censer grows cold, accompanying my feelings that are like water.
The flute plays the tune three times; the plum blossom is startled awake, how much spring feeling there is.
A light wind and sparse rain fall rustling; it urges down a thousand lines of tears.
The flute player has gone and the jade tower is empty; heartbroken, with whom can I lean together?
A branch is broken off; in the human world or in heaven, there is no one to whom it can be sent.
Lone Goose
Tang · Cui Tu
Several lines returning to the frontier have all gone; I think of you, alone, where are you bound?
In the evening rain, calling to each other, they have lost one another; by the cold pond it is slow to descend.
Over the islet the clouds pass low and dim; the frontier moon follows coldly.
Not necessarily will it meet the hunter's arrows; flying alone, it is naturally filled with doubt.
Admonishing the Geese
Tang · Du Fu
A traveler who has come ten thousand li from the east, after the turmoil is settled, in how many years will he return?
Heartbroken at the geese on the river city, flying high, straight to the north.
Autumn Geese
Tang · Chu Liang
At sunset the frosty wind is urgent; the wings and feathers find it ever harder to bear.
Because they have the intent to carry letters, they flutter into the Shanglin Garden.
Wild Geese
Pre-Qin · Classic of Poetry
The wild geese fly, solemn and slow their wings.
That man goes on campaign, toiling in the wilds.
And so it reaches the pitiable ones; have pity on these widowers and widows.
The wild geese fly, settling in the middle of the marsh.
That man builds the walls; a hundred wall-lengths all rise.
Though he toils and labors, in the end where can he rest?
The wild geese fly, crying mournfully, ao ao.
Only this wise man says I toil and labor.
But those foolish men say I show off my arrogance.
Hearing the Geese
Tang · Du Mu
Geese heading south bearing frost, on a fine night they roost on the sand of the shoals.
Startled into flight, where do they go? They fly high to the very edge of the sea.
Entering the clouds, their cries gradually fade; leaving the peaks, the road is still far.
The dream of returning was broken at that time; scattering, they long to reach home.
Geese
Tang · Du Mu
Ten thousand li carrying reeds, parting from their native place, flying through snow and roosting in rain toward the Xiao and Xiang.
A few cries on a lone pillow are enough to make one shed tears; in several high towers hearts are about to break.
Passing the days fluttering, slanting to avoid their shadows; facing the wind, one by one they form their ranks.
Year after year toiling to come to Mount Heng; their wings are worn and broken by the frost of the Long frontier.
Frost and Moon
Tang · Li Shangyin
At first hearing the journeying geese, the cicadas are already gone; from the hundred-foot tower the water meets the sky.
The Frost Maiden and the Moon Goddess both endure the cold; in the moon and in the frost they vie in loveliness.
A Twig of Mume Blossoms
Song · Li Qingzhao
The red lotus fades and the jade mat feels autumn's chill. Lightly I loosen my silk robe, alone I board the magnolia boat.
Who in the clouds has sent a brocade letter? When the goose formation returns, the moon fills the western tower.
Flowers drift down of themselves and water flows on of itself. One kind of longing, two places of idle sorrow.
This feeling has no way to be dispelled; just as it leaves the brow, it rises again in the heart.
Resentment of the Jade Zither
Tang · Wen Tingyun
On the ice-cold mat and silver bed no dream will come; the blue sky is like water and the night clouds are light.
The sound of geese passes far away over the Xiao and Xiang; in the twelve towers the moon shines of itself.
Climbing Yueyang Tower with Xia the Twelfth
Tang · Li Bai
From the tower we view all of Yueyang; the river stretches far and Dongting opens wide.
The geese draw away the sorrowful heart; the mountains hold the good moon in their mouths.
Among the clouds we lay out our beds; in the sky we pass the cups.
After we are drunk the cool wind rises; it blows our dancing sleeves around.
A Wife's Grief
Tang · Shen Rujun
The geese have all gone and letters are hard to send; so much sorrow that no dream will come.
I wish to follow the lone moon's shadow, and flow in its light to the Fubo camp.
Lone Goose
Tang · Cui Tu
Several lines returning to the frontier have all gone; I think of you, alone, where are you bound?
In the evening rain, calling to each other, they have lost one another; by the cold pond it descends alone, slow.
Over the islet the clouds pass low and dim; the frontier moon follows coldly.
Not necessarily will it meet the hunter's arrows; flying alone, it is naturally filled with doubt.
Lone Goose
Tang · Du Fu
The lone goose neither drinks nor pecks; flying and crying, its voice longs for the flock.
Who pities a single shadow, lost from one another through ten thousand layers of cloud?
Gazing to the end, it seems still there; so much grief, as if heard again.
The wild ducks have no such feeling; they clamor and chatter among themselves.