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Best Famous Li Po Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Li Po poems. This is a select list of the best famous Li Po poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Li Po poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of li po poems.

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by Stanley Kunitz | |

After The Last Dynasty

 Reading in Li Po
how "the peach blossom follows the water"
I keep thinking of you
because you were so much like
Chairman Mao,
naturally with the sex 
transposed
and the figure slighter.
Loving you was a kind of Chinese guerilla war.
Thanks to your lightfoot genius no Eighth Route Army kept its lines more fluid, traveled with less baggage so nibbled the advantage.
Even with your small bad heart you made a dance of departures.
In the cold spring rains when last you failed me I had nothing left to spend but a red crayon language on the character of the enemy to break appointments, to fight us not with his strength but with his weakness, to kill us not with his health but with his sickness.
Pet, spitfire, blue-eyed pony, here is a new note I want to pin on your door, though I am ten years late and you are nowhere: Tell me, are you stillmistress of the valley, what trophies drift downriver, why did you keep me waiting?


by Li Po | |

To Tan-Chiu

 My friend is lodging high in the Eastern Range,
Dearly loving the beauty of valleys and hills.
At green Spring he lies in the empty woods, And is still asleep when the sun shines on igh.
A pine-tree wind dusts his sleeves and coat; A peebly stream cleans his heart and ears.
I envy you, who far from strife and talk Are high-propped on a pillow of blue cloud.


by Li Po | |

To Tu Fu from Shantung

 You ask how I spend my time--
I nestle against a treetrunk
and listen to autumn winds
in the pines all night and day.
Shantung wine can't get me drunk.
The local poets bore me.
My thoughts remain with you, like the Wen River, endlessly flowing.


by Li Po | |

Going Up Yoyang Tower

 We climbed Yoyang Tower with
all the scene around coming
into vision; looking up the
Great River seeing boats turn
and enter the Tungting Lake; geese
crying farewell to the river
as they flew south; evening falling
as if mountain tops upt up the moon
with their lips; and we in the Yoyang
Tower as if with heads amongst
the cloud, drinking wine as if the cups
came from heaven itself; then
having drunk our fill there blew
a cold wind filling out our
sleeves, it seeming as though
we were dancing in time with it.


by Li Po | |

Drinking Alone

 I take my wine jug out among the flowers
to drink alone, without friends.
I raise my cup to entice the moon.
That, and my shadow, makes us three.
But the moon doesn't drink, and my shadow silently follows.
I will travel with moon and shadow, happy to the end of spring.
When I sing, the moon dances.
When I dance, my shadow dances, too.
We share life's joys when sober.
Drunk, each goes a separate way.
Constant friends, although we wander, we'll meet again in the Milky Way.


by Li Po | |

Moon over Mountain Pass

 A bright moon rising above Tian Shan Mountain,
Lost in a vast ocean of clouds.
The long wind, across thousands upon thousands of miles, Blows past the Jade-gate Pass.
The army of Han has gone down the Baiteng Road, As the barbarian hordes probe at Qinghai Bay.
It is known that from the battlefield Few ever live to return.
Men at Garrison look on the border scene, Home thoughts deepen sorrow on their faces.
In the towered chambers tonight, Ceaseless are the women's sighs.


by Li Po | |

Marble Stairs Grievance

 On Marble Stairs
still grows the white dew
That has all night
soaked her silk slippers,

But she lets down
her crystal blind now
And sees through glaze
the moon of autumn.


by Li Po | |

Bathed and Washed

 "Bathed in fragrance,
do not brush your hat;
Washed in perfume,
do not shake your coat:

"Knowing the world
fears what is too pure,
The wisest man
prizes and stores light!"

By Bluewater
an old angler sat:
You and I together,
Let us go home.


by Li Po | |

Good Old Moon

 When I was a boy I called the moon a
white plate of jade, sometimes it looked
like a great mirror hanging in the sky,
first came the two legs of the fairy
and the cassia tree, but for whom the rabbit
kept on pounding medical herbs, I
just could not guess.
Now the moon is being swallowed by the toad and the light flickers out leaving darkness all around; I hear that when nine of the burning suns out of the ten were ordered to be shot down by the Emperor Yao, all has since been quiet and peaceful both for heaven and man, but this eating up of the moon is for me a truly ugly scene filling me with forebodings wondering what will come out of it.


by Li Po | |

Alone Looking at the Mountain

 All the birds have flown up and gone;
A lonely cloud floats leisurely by.
We never tire of looking at each other - Only the mountain and I.


by Li Po | |

Climbing West Of Lotus Flower Peak

 Amongst the grandeur of Hua Shan
I climb to the Flower Peak,
and fancy I see fairies and immortals
carrying lotus in their
sacred white hands, robes flowing
they fly filling the sky with colour
as they rise to the palace of heaven,
inviting me to go to the cloud stage
and see Wei Shu-ching, guardian angel
of Hua Shan; so dreamily I go with them
riding to the sky on the back
of wild geese which call as they fly,
but when we look below at Loyang,
not so clear because of the mist,
everywhere could be seen looting
armies, which took Loyang, creating
chaos and madness with blood
flowing everywhere; like animals of prey
rebel army men made into officials
with caps and robes to match.


by Li Po | |

Autumn River Song

 The moon shimmers in green water.
White herons fly through the moonlight.
The young man hears a girl gathering water-chestnuts: into the night, singing, they paddle home together.


by Li Po | |

About Tu Fu

 I met Tu Fu on a mountaintop
in August when the sun was hot.
Under the shade of his big straw hat his face was sad-- in the years since we last parted, he'd grown wan, exhausted.
Poor old Tu Fu, I thought then, he must be agonizing over poetry again.


by Li Po | |

On Climbing in Nan-king to the Terrace of Phoenixes

 Phoenixes that play here once, so that the place was named for them,
Have abandoned it now to this desolated river;
The paths of Wu Palace are crooked with weeds;
The garments of Chin are ancient dust.
.
.
.
Like this green horizon halving the Three Peaks, Like this Island of White Egrets dividing the river, A cloud has risen between the Light of Heaven and me, To hide his city from my melancholy heart.


by Li Po | |

On Kusu Terrace

 The old gardens of Kusu Terrace
are a wilderness, yet the willows
that remain still put out new branches;
lasses gathering water chestnuts
sing so loudly and with such
clarity, that the feeling of spring
returns to us; but where once stood
the palace of the King of Wu, now
only the moon over the
west river once shone on
the lovely ladies there.


by Li Po | |

Ziyi Song

 Chang-an -- one slip of moon;
in ten thousand houses, the sound of fulling mallets.
Autumn winds keep on blowing, all things make me think of Jade Pass! When will they put down the barbarians and my good man come home from his far campaign?


by Li Po | |

To Wang Lun

 I was about to sail away in a junk,
When suddenly I heard
The sound of stamping and singing on the bank—
It was you and your friends come to bid me farewell.
The Peach Flower Lake is a thousand fathoms deep, But it cannot compare, O Wang Lun, With the depth of your love for me.


by Li Po | |

Listening to a Flute in Yellow Crane Pavillion

 I came here a wanderer
thinking of home,
remembering my far away Ch'ang-an.
And then, from deep in Yellow Crane Pavillion, I heard a beautiful bamboo flute play "Falling Plum Blossoms.
" It was late spring in a city by the river.


by Li Po | |

Resentment Near the Jade Stairs

 Dew whitens the jade stairs.
This late, it soaks her gauze stockings.
She lowers her crystal blind to watch the breaking, glass-clear moon of autumn.


by Li Po | |

Looking For A Monk And Not Finding Him

 I took a small path leading
up a hill valley, finding there
a temple, its gate covered
with moss, and in front of
the door but tracks of birds;
in the room of the old monk
no one was living, and I
staring through the window
saw but a hair duster hanging
on the wall, itself covered
with dust; emptily I sighed
thinking to go, but then
turning back several times,
seeing how the mist on
the hills was flying, and then
a light rain fell as if it
were flowers falling from
the sky, making a music of
its own; away in the distance
came the cry of a monkey, and
for me the cares of the world
slipped away, and I was filled
with the beauty around me.