The New Moon


by Tu Fu (712-770)

Thin slice of ascending light, arc tipped
aside all its bellied dark-the new moon

appears and, scarcely risen beyond ancient
frontier passes, edges behind clouds. Silver,

changeless-the Star River spreads across
empty mountains scoured with cold. White

dew dusts the courtyard, chrysanthemum
blossoms clotting there with swollen dark.


translated from the Chinese by David Hinton


From MOUNTAIN HOME: THE WILDERNESS POETRY OF ANCIENT CHINA (Counterpoint, 2002)