The Sacrificial Day
The year draws to its end amid snowstorm,
But seasons change and days will soon grow warm.
Flanking the gates are plum and willow trees,
On which are budding flowers in the breeze.
The flowers nod consent for poems I sing
Of what great joy the liquor has to bring.
Heigh-ho, what great joy, what great joy!
Immortal poems from hills we all enjoy.
The Year-End Festival1
Wind and snow see out the year;
Mild is the air despite wind and snow,
A plum and a willow tree flank my gate,
A single branch has put forth blossoms.
You claim to know of what I sing –
Thoughts inspired by wine.
To know how numerous these can be,
Hearken to the phantastic song on Zhangshan2.
1. A festival falling on the eighth of the twelfth lunar month, at which offerings are presented to the gods in observance of an ancient tradition passed down from the Zhou Dynasty.
2. Zhangshan (Mount Zhang), also referred to as the Stone Gate, stands in the north of Lushan.
Cha Festival Day
Seeing off the year’s final day, windblown
snow can’t slow warm weather. Already,
at our gate planted with plum and willow,
there’s a branch flaunting lovely blossoms.
When I chant, words come clear. And in wine
I touch countless distances. So much that
still eludes me – who knows how much when
there’s such unearthly Chang Mountain song?
（David Hinton 译）