What are some poems describing lotus flowers?
What are some poems describing lotus flowers? The lotus is forever praised by the world for its character of emerging unstained from the mud. “Lotus leaves stretch to the sky in endless green, lotus flowers reflect the sun in unmatched red” is a true portrayal of the beauty of the lotus. The lotus’s noble character of “hollow within and straight without, no creeping vines, no branching stems, emerging from silt unstained, washed by clear ripples yet not seductive” has always been one of the subjects sung and painted by poets and literati through the ages.
A small bridge parts the water, cutting the lotus blooms; west winds on both banks tint the evening clouds. As if the Jade Pool’s first feast had just ended, ten thousand consorts, drunk, blush with lead-white powder. —— “Lotus” by Bai Yuchan, Song Dynasty
Rosy clouds wrap the rainbow lotus in green, naturally, it is a distinguished and elegant figure. Beneath layer upon layer of green canopies, a thousand charms mirror the water, so lovely in red and white. Often I gaze in melancholy, on bright-moon and clear-wind nights, so low-spirited and silent, charming yet powerless. In the end I must set the boat free, to lodge deep in the fragrance, and gaze upon her colors. —— “Lotus Charming · Lotus” by Su Dongpo, Song Dynasty
By West Lake’s shore the water is just rich, a pair of mandarin ducks bathe and wet their red robes. A dragonfly perches on the lotus, enjoying the fragrant breeze, unwilling to fly. —— “By the Lake” by Cui Fuchu, Song Dynasty
Wu girls and Yue beauties, consorts of the King of Chu, vie in lotus boats, the water wetting their clothes. As they come, flowers at the river mouth welcome them in; when picking is done, the moon at the river head sees them home. Lotus-leaf skirts cut from a single color, lotus blossoms open on either side of their faces. Mingling in the pond, they vanish from sight; only when song is heard does one know someone comes. —— “Two Songs of Picking Lotus” by Wang Changling, Tang Dynasty
The evening sun shines on the empty rock, lotus-picking in the late glow. The wind rises, the lake is hard to cross; the lotuses are many, the picking not yet sparse. As the oar moves, lotus blossoms fall; as the boat shifts, white egrets fly. Lotus fibers wind around the wrist, water chestnuts tug at the clothes from afar. —— “Song of Picking Lotus” by Xiao Gang, Liang Dynasty
Round and round the embankment road runs without end, a green willow at every plant and every step. The fair lady looks again and again at the lotus, regretting she cannot pin it at her temples. —— “Viewing Lotus at East Lake, Presented to Yuanfu” by Song Zixun, Song Dynasty
Eight or nine leaves spread across the field, scattered and dotting the green pond at first. Tender green just level with the water, their round shade already hides the fish. Duckweed cannot cover them all, weak water weeds wind around yet sparsely. Half within the spring waves, their fragrant hearts roll unopened. —— “New Lotus” by Li Qunyu, Tang Dynasty
Heaven’s loom weaves snow-brocade and mermaid silk, gorgeous blossoms stand tall against the painted bridge. Spotless, it keeps whole the gentleman’s purity; with such grace, who would think of the Sixth Lord’s coquetry. Green seed pods split their seeds, lotus stamens fade; jade lotus roots draw silk, summer leaves sway. Among flowers, one may well call it the Pure Friend; to gather its fragrance, one must row by bright moonlight. —— “Lotus” by Dong Sigao, Song Dynasty
A fairy in the water with rosy cheeks, one fragrant heart blooming in two places. It must be that a pair of mandarin ducks died white-headed, and their two souls transformed into this lovely flower. —— “Lotus” by Shi Zhongshu, Song Dynasty
By Ruoye Stream, lotus-picking girls laugh and talk through the lotus with one another. The sun shines on their new makeup, bright in the water; the wind lifts their fragrant sleeves into the air. On the bank, whose wandering young men, in threes and fives, are mirrored among the drooping willows. A purple steed neighs and gallops off into the falling flowers; seeing this, one hesitates, heartsick for nothing. —— “Song of Picking Lotus” by Li Bai, Tang Dynasty
In the winding pool, lotus mirrors the fine bamboo, green and red leaning together, embracing clouds and sunset. Born without the east wind’s power, it still becomes the first flower of the warm breeze. —— “Lotus” by He Zhong, Yuan Dynasty
When autumn comes all fall and empty, only it, riding the waves, puts forth red. Rooted where it belongs, it will not yet follow the wind. —— “A Single Lotus in the Autumn Pool” by Hong Zhigong, Sui Dynasty
Late autumn, scattered over the fading lotus, each drop a true-pearl rain. After the rain the moonlight rises, cold piercing the mandarin-ducks’ shore. Leaning on the rail by the pond, sorrowing with no companion, what can be done with this single-nesting mood! Turning to the golden cage and the parrot, murmuring of the powdered lover’s words. —— “Sweet Grass Seed” by Liu Yong, Song Dynasty
Light and delicate in form, pale and graceful, dotting the round pond, also pitiable. A few drops of rain fly onto the lotus leaves; evening fragrance shares out a little river-and-sky. —— “Pond Lotus” by Wanyan Chou, Jin Dynasty
Green lotus leaves cover the green water, lotus blossoms drape in fresh red. Below are joined-root lotus roots, above are twin-headed lotus blooms. —— “Qingyang Ford” by Yuefu, Jin Dynasty
By the bank the lotus rises in purple mist, Wu girls’ wine shop near the ferry boat. Wrap the fish and crabs in lotus leaves; grow old and die in Jiangnan without complaint against heaven. —— “Bamboo Branch Song of Pukou” by Yuan Kai, Ming Dynasty
On the vast calm lake the lotus breeze is clear, blossoms glow in the sun, bright as red makeup. A pair of mandarin ducks suddenly flies away, startled by the oar’s song beneath the flowers. The oar ripples — whose daughter is she, cloud-like hair coiled, brows painted lovely. Picking and picking lotus, sleeves full of fragrance, deep in the flowers forgetting the way she came. —— “Song of Picking Lotus” by Zou Denglong, Song Dynasty
On the calm lake of green jade the misty waves are broad, when the water-chestnut-and-lotus breeze rises, autumn fragrance comes forth. The lotus-picking girl is fresh with rouge and powder, laughter in the boat heard through the mist. Her red skirt hitched high, both sleeves rolled up, she does not mind duckweed clinging to her white wrists. Vying to pick first, hidden behind the boat’s awning, much teasing and questioning back and forth. A Wu boy rows over — for what? He points at the lotus to show his deep meaning. The lad points at the lotus pod, the girl snaps the fibers; the lotus does not reach its end, the fibers do not stop. When the moon rises and the tide is calm they scatter home, boats light, oars short, gone like flying. Heartsick and silent, the two say nothing, sending feeling through the flowing water, conveying longing. —— “Song of Jiangnan” by Zhang Lei, Song Dynasty
On the calm pond of green jade the autumn waves are clear, green clouds throng the fans, green handles sway. Water-palace fairies vie in red makeup, light steps treading the waves upon a bright mirror. —— “Lotus” by Zhang Wenqian, Song Dynasty
On the calm waves floats the Luo Goddess’s hairpin, emerald and lovely-round, small and fresher still. Rippling lake light for thirty qing, who knows whose lotus lies beneath the leaves? —— “New Lotus” by Zhu Shuzhen, Song Dynasty
Lake light on every side, wind on every side, most pleasing of all is the white lotus. Clearly a pair of egrets flies down, yet just at the flower’s edge they vanish without a trace. —— “Viewing Lotus at the Four-Gaze Pavilion” by Yao Mian, Song Dynasty
On the green pond swaying splendor meets the starry ford, creaking oars enter the white duckweed. It must be the Luo Goddess’s stockings upon the waves; to this day the lotus stamens hold fragrant dust. —— “Lotus” by Wen Tingyun, Tang Dynasty
Green canopies half a pole high in new rain, a dot of red fragrance in the clear breeze. Heaven-endowed, its root is like jade; the Lian River shares its mind through the Way. —— “Lotus” by Song Boren, Song Dynasty
Clear water brightens the autumn moon, on South Lake they pick white duckweed. The lotus is lovely as if about to speak, sorrowing the boatman to death. —— “Song of Clear Water” by Li Bai, Tang Dynasty
Water-chestnut leaves wind on the waves, lotus sways in the wind, deep among the lotuses a small boat passes. Meeting her love, wanting to speak, she bows her head and smiles, and her jade hairpin falls into the water. —— “Song of Picking Lotus” by Bai Juyi, Tang Dynasty
The wave-treading fairy is fragrant in stillness, also wearing deep red, learning drunken makeup. With intent it opens fully to the morning dew, without feeling it gathers in the slanting sun. Its muddy root, jade and snow, is unstained from the first; its wind-blown leaves, verdant, are fragrant of themselves. I think of Shihu where the flowers must be just right, cloud-brocade to the sky, painted boats cool. —— “Lotus Before the Hall of the Prefectural Residence” by Fan Chengda, Song Dynasty
Lotus seeds cannot be had, the lotus grows in the water. Still better than the willow by the roadside, idly swaying in the spring wind. Clear duckweed and lotus leaves, together in this same water. The wind blows and the lotus leaves stay, the clear duckweed goes west then east. Before the lotus blooms, its bitter heart rolls all day. The spring water ripples in vain, the lotus has not yet unfurled. —— “Three Yuefu Songs” by Meng Jiao, Tang Dynasty
In the ninth month Jiangnan’s flowers are done, the lotus lingers in the central plains. The beauty smiles through the brimming water, the setting sun still breeds a distant sorrow. Dew washes jade-like, the golden hall is cold; wind blows the silk sash, Brocade City is in autumn. Looking at each other, no need to grieve over late years; there is another kind of quiet in the pond. —— “Autumn Lotus” by Wen Zhengming, Ming Dynasty
Mirror Lake, eight hundred li — how long it is, within it the lotus is especially fragrant; butterflies are just worrying they cannot fly across, mandarin ducks slap the water, always in pairs. —— “Lotus” by Xu Wei, Ming Dynasty
Brocade sash mixed with flowered hairpins. Silk robes trail in the green river. I ask you, where do you go now? Out to pick Jiangnan’s lotus. Three thousand li to Liaoxi. I wish to send word but have no means. I beg you to return early, while this lotus is fresh. —— “Song of Picking Lotus” by Wu Jun, Liang Dynasty
You say the lotus surpasses my looks, so you come to the river to pick lotus. Why is my dear so unreasonable — not looking at the lotus but looking at me! —— “Song of Picking Lotus” by Shen Ye, Ming Dynasty
I built a pavilion by the water like a boat, at night the pattering rain wildly beats the awning. At dawn I look at the lotus leaves — they are not wet at all; I suspect I misheard the fifth-watch wind. —— “Lotus” by Yang Wanli, Song Dynasty
Rouge and powder, lovely adornment, emerald canopies low in wind and rain. It claims all the cool of the human world’s sixth month, a whole month at the mandarin-ducks’ shore. At the root the lotus fibers are long, in the flower the lotus heart is bitter. Only because romance holds so much sorrow, it further sets off the fair one’s steps. —— “Divination Song (Lotus)” by Xin Qiji, Song Dynasty
Red and white lotuses bloom in the same pond, two kinds of color, one kind of fragrance. Just like the three thousand women of the Han palace, half in heavy makeup, half in light. —— “Red and White Lotus” by Yang Wanli, Song Dynasty
Lotus leaves spread across the field, green mirroring the water, a lone boat moored beneath the flowers’ shade. Last night a rustling sparse rain fell. Sorrowing, unable to sleep, at dawn I feel the west wind rise again. Rain sways and wind shakes, the golden stamens shatter. On the lovebird branch the fragrant chamber is emerald. Lotus seeds and people are often alike. With no good intent, year after year bitter at the center. —— “Fisherman’s Pride” by Ouyang Xiu, Song Dynasty
When lotus leaves grow, spring sorrow is born; when lotus leaves wither, autumn sorrow is complete. Deeply I know that while the body lives, feeling lives long; sadly gazing at the river head, the sound of the river water. —— “Late Autumn, Roaming Alone at Winding River” by Li Shangyin, Tang Dynasty
After the lotus blooms West Lake is lovely; when wine is brought, no banners are needed, red canopies and green covers follow before and behind. A painted boat is poled deep into the flowers, fragrance floats over golden cups, misty rain falls fine, and amid a stretch of reed-song one returns drunk. —— “Gathering Mulberries” by Ouyang Xiu, Song Dynasty
The lotus smiles and teases the warm breeze. The two feelings, each with intent, are especially deep. Crystal railings on four sides, exquisite. Mirroring the adorned face. Drunk, it stealthily opens its cup-like face; at dawn it secretly splits in the fragrant wind. I know not why it rushes so bitterly. Drifting down, the fallen red. —— “Spring in the Painted Hall (Lotus in the Wind)” by Shen Ying, Song Dynasty
The lotus wears palace-style beauty’s makeup, the lotus leaf faces the wind, green as a skirt. Last night the night was cool, cool as water; I envy her, there in the middle of the water. —— “Lotus” by Su Jiong, Song Dynasty
Deep red and rich green for three thousand qing, all transformed by the wave god. Coming from silt, unstained from the first; blooming in the jade well, long known by name. In summer heat it is better than cool days; the leaf’s air is clearer than the flower’s. Why does the Lian River so favor this, because its branches and vines have never grown. —— “East Lake Lotus” by Shi Wenxiang, Song Dynasty
Dry lotus leaves, color gray-green, old stems swaying in the wind. Fragrance diminished, more and more yellow, all because of last night’s frost. Lonely on the autumn river. —— “Dry Lotus Leaves” by Liu Bingzhong, Yuan Dynasty
Floating fragrance winds around the winding bank, round shadows cover the splendid pool. Ever I fear the autumn wind comes early, and you never know it has fallen. —— “Lotus of the Winding Pool” by Lu Zhaolin, Tang Dynasty
The spring’s eye flows silently, fine and thin; tree shade mirrors the water, loving the clear softness. The small lotus has just shown its pointed tip, and already a dragonfly has perched atop it. —— “Small Pond”
In Yan Garden one cannot pick lotus, the lotus leaves spread in vain across the field; no fish play among the lotus, and I too find it hard to enter among them. —— “Picking Lotus”
Lotus-leaf skirts cut from a single color, lotus blossoms open on either side of their faces. Mingling in the pond, they vanish from sight; only when song is heard does one know someone comes. —— “Song of Picking Lotus”
Soughing autumn wind, a hundred flowers gone, withered branches and fallen leaves drift with the waves. For a while it sheds its adornment to nourish its life; one spring rain and the whole pond is green. —— “Remnant Lotus”
Old willows droop over the embankment, the wind is faint; new lotus spreads through the marsh, leaves across the field. White feathers waved again and again, the idle scholar sits; the black gauze cap half fallen, the drunken old man sleeps. In a roaming dream he wields a spear to cut down the sun; waking, he holds a tube and dares not peep at heaven. Laughable, the guest in the pillow of glory; facing the lotus, I would be a fairy beyond the world. —— “Facing the Lotus”
A friend called, inviting me to tour the garden grounds. Slanting wind and rain, a few drops; new moon, a few willow branches. Walking to Near-Spring Garden, I stand and gaze at the lotus pond. The lotus welcomes me as I arrive; so graceful I am lost in wonder. —— “Visiting the Lotus”