What osmanthus poems are essential for enjoying osmanthus during the Mid-Autumn Festival?
"Osmanthus seeds fall within the moon, heavenly fragrance drifts beyond the clouds." Osmanthus is so pure it can banish all dust, and so rich its scent reaches far and wide - truly unsurpassed. Especially in mid-autumn, when clusters of osmanthus bloom in full glory, and on a quiet night with a full moon, raising a cup while admiring osmanthus, the aged fragrance greets the nose and refreshes the spirit. Among ancient Chinese poems praising flowers, the number of works praising osmanthus is also quite considerable. Today, let us join the editor to learn about these osmanthus-praising poems.
"Ode to Osmanthus"Song Dynasty - Yang Wanli
Not a seed of the mortal world, transplanted from within the moon.
A single breath of fragrance from the Guanghan Palace, blown until it blooms across the whole mountain.
"Bird Cries in the Ravine"Tang Dynasty - Wang Wei
With people at leisure, osmanthus flowers fall; in the quiet night, the spring mountain is empty.
The rising moon startles the mountain birds, which cry out from time to time in the spring ravine.
"Looking at the Moon on the Night of the Fifteenth"Tang Dynasty - Wang Jian
In the courtyard the ground is white, crows roost in the trees; cold dew falls silently, wetting the osmanthus flowers.
Tonight the moon is bright and everyone gazes at it; who knows whose home the autumn longing will fall upon?
"Osmanthus"Song Dynasty - Dai Fugu
Who knows how many gardens of the Golden Valley there are, all competing to plant peach and plum for spring splendor.
No one can match the craftsmanship of heaven, planting osmanthus within the bright moon.
"Osmanthus of the Eastern City"Tang Dynasty - Bai Juyi
The seeds fell originally from Tianzhu Temple, their roots now coil in the city of Helü.
At that time they must have followed the south wind down, falling into the mortal world to grow at will.
"Osmanthus Flowers"Yuan Dynasty - Ni Zan
Osmanthus flowers keep their evening colors, curtain shadows pale in the autumn light.
Gently, gently the wind still makes them fall; richly fragrant, the night is not yet over.
The Jade Rope constellation sinks low, the moon is waning; the golden duck incense burner has ceased burning incense.
Suddenly thoughts of my old home arise, and coolly the dream of returning grows long.
"Lingyin Temple"Tang Dynasty - Song Zhiwen
Vulture Peak towers lush and high, the dragon palace locks in silence.
From the tower one watches the sun over the vast sea; the gate faces the tides of the Zhejiang River.
Osmanthus seeds fall 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 light, flowers bloom even more; though ice is thin, leaves have not yet withered.
From youth I have admired the far and strange, seeking to cleanse the weary clamor.
I wait to enter the road to Tiantai, to watch myself cross the stone bridge.
"Reflections on Encounters"Tang Dynasty - Zhang Jiuling
Orchid leaves lush in spring, osmanthus blossoms bright and pure in autumn.
Flourishing with such vitality, each naturally becomes a fine season.
Who knows the forest dweller, who hearing the wind sits and delights in it.
Plants and trees have their own true nature, why seek to be plucked by a beauty?
"Gazing at the Sea Tide"Song Dynasty - Liu Yong
A land of natural beauty in the southeast, the great metropolis of the Three Wu, Qiantang has been prosperous since ancient times: misty willows and painted bridges, wind-blown curtains and green screens, scattered among a hundred thousand households. Cloud-like trees ring the sand of the dike, angry waves roll up frost and snow, the natural moat stretches boundless. The markets display pearls and jade, every house brims with silk and brocade, all vying in luxury.
Layered lakes and stacked peaks, clear and lovely. There are osmanthus seeds of the three autumns, and lotus flowers for ten li. Qiang flutes play in the clear day, water-chestnut songs drift through the night, old fishermen and lotus-picking children laugh and play. A thousand riders escort the tall banner. Drunk, one listens to flutes and drums, chanting and admiring the misty haze. Some day I will paint this fine scene, and returning to the Phoenix Pool, boast of it.