Wu Tsao

I have closed the double doors.
In what corner of the heavens is she?
A horizontal flute
Beyond the red walls
Blown as gently as the breeze
Blows the willow floss.
In the lingering glow of the sunset
The roosting crows ignore my melancholy.
Once again I languidly get out of bed.
After I have burned incense,
I loiter on the jeweled staircase.
I regret the wasted years,
Sick, afraid of the cold, afraid of the heat,
While the beautiful days went by.
Suddenly it is the Autumn Feast of the Dead.
Constantly disturbed by the changing weather,
I lose track of the flowing light
That washes us away.
Who moved the turning bridges
On my inlaid psaltery?
I realize--
Of the twenty five strings
Twenty one are gone.

- poem by Wu Tsao, translated by Kenneth Rexroth and Ling Chung

Wu Tsao was an early-nineteenth-century Chinese poet. She was unhappily married, wrote erotic poems to courtesans, had women friends and lovers, and spent her last years in seclusion as a Taoist priestess. Although Wu Tsao is considered one of China's greatest poets, she is not so well known in the West.

Thanks to Alix North for introducing me to Wu Tsao. Thanks to Sudie Rakusin for drawing her portrait.
~Mary