Du Fu (formerly Tu Fu) was a Chinese poet of the Tang Dynasty, 712-770, reckoned by those who know to rank, along with his friend Li Bai (formerly Li Po), as China’s greatest poet, and indeed one of the great poets of the world. (The annoying name changes are due to new transliteration practices rather than to posthumous acts of deed poll). His work is marked by its range and humanity, its lyrical awareness of the natural world and its adherence to strict forms.

This poem is about being separated by war from his wife and children, and thinking one moonlit night about how the same moon will be shining on them far away.

I do not speak Chinese, which is a shameful admission for a poet to have to make but you know how it is, the lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne… The translation is mine, therefore, but drawing on a prose crib for the literal meaning, so I offer it with even more reservations than usual.

Chang’an: a former city in north central China.
Fu-chou: (Fuzhou or Foochow), the capital of Fujian province, China. A long way from Chang’an.
White as jade: I thought jade was green but apparently it can be all sorts of colours, and at times white jade has been prized as a symbol of nobility.

Moonlit Night

Tonight at Fu-chou, she watches this same moon
Alone in our room. And my children, far away,
Are too young to understand what keeps me from them
Or even remember Chang’an. By now her hair

Will be scented by the mist, her arms, white as jade,
Be chilled in its clear light. When will it find us
Together again, the curtains drawn back, its shine
Silvering the tear tracks on each face?

Du Fu