Friday Night Poetry - Tao Chien

Like the Romans and other builders of empire, the ancient Chinese would send their soldiers to conquer faraway places. Not a few died along the way. This poem takes place in autumn but it seems as cold as our own winter has been at times.

A reluctant soldier, Tao Chien was more a bureaucrat stuck with a stretch of military duty. Actually, like many others, he was happiest when he was deep in contemplation or taking long walks, writing poetry or drinking wine with friends.

Like many soldiers, he wasn't sure he was coming back home.



Death in the Far Lands


Here, the grass goes on and on.
Below, white poplars go shoo, shoo,
the frost biting in the late fall.
You have sent me off as a bearer
where all around no man lives.
Tall crags close in like ghosts,
horses rear, neighing at the night sky.
From the ravine, the wind comes alone—
death has walked here before.
I will never again see the dawn.
I will never again see the dawn.
Here, the wise can do nothing.
All mourners who have come before
surely return to their home.
Surely faraway relatives will grieve
and others will return to their songs.
But where will the dead go?
This one nestles in a mountain niche.


—Tao Chien (365-427)