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POETRY: Poems of the Late T'ang

High Dike
I am a woman of Heng-t’ang.
My crimson silks are full of the scent of cassia.
A black cloud binds up a topknot for my head,
The full moon shapes me a pearl for my ear.
        A breeze rises in the lotus.
        On the banks of the river, spring.
        Here on High Dike
        I stop the men from the north.
        You shall eat carp’s tails,
        I shall eat monkey’s lips.
Don’t point towards Hsiang-yang,
By the green shores are few returning sails.
Today we blossom with the reeds,
Tomorrow with the maple grow old. 
Li Ho


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