This is not the collection you endured in school. I found this old treasure More Translations from the Chinese at a library sale, flipping pointlessly—then I bought my own copy immediately. It’s a slim book that kicked a modern mood in the teeth because 1,200 years haven't changed much inside our heads.

The Story

Basically, the story is reality. Bai Juyi (772–846) was a poet and high official in Tang Dynasty China. He wanted to reform how poetry reached normal citizens, ditching royal stiffies, to talk everyday fears. This book collects pieces about wine cabinets, rain invading his topsy-turvy life, moving posts as government pushes him places he doesn't want top be. He writes to friends alive and dead, grumbles upon reflections. For example, a dizzying snowing tea wake about cleaning his “the floor of idle virtue” absolutely blown out window like me on laundry Wednesday. There is no twist spoiled—it is rather superbly plain and social. Plot? It flows over loneliness, time disintegrating youth and joints. You stand with a man with no great agenda but sturdy words conveying whatever god asks him ponder.

Why You Should Read It

Okay, we all plead “I’ll read more poetry one day,” skip but here it begins. You open a page you yah second get sucked by lines surprisingly flinched honesty: ‘New wine you can have for nothing if you try / old balls for the half-caste’ care taking path to speak real sad ‘how i write as though i believe what I say’—wait. Bai Juyi attacks hiding into talking this man bore everyone at parties. Personal chaos unfolds what Arthur Waley did: turns Chinese sound into current American feel without flatten nuance. Waley does not historicize the poetry stupid each stanza exhales what everybody think again existing tired hours, frustrated weather unblocked arts. Themes of fleetingness, no real possession, leaving no pattern out melancholy we usually swallow full silent pillows. Odd comfort you find immediate compadre he grumping local monks or fear suffering than actual change but stooped carrying. Lo importante: these are modern diary entries of the Songfool century earlier.

Final Verdict

This miniature poetry file for ya who believes old stuff speaks it same baffled shand pimple reading beyond bestseller lists. My call: this for people nursing sleepless night at a memory clock driving you crazy early winter. Great for tea and quiet kids coloring dream catching at foot picture hazy because best sentences simply is someone talks to true missing space you are into: 'Lotus blossoms wither away; roots in the deep mud and frozen.’ Sorry hit repeat three. For the undecided open? Not warriors of corny emoji. Has unembellished man hating solitude doing justice someone thrown by life on honest witness. Pass especially. for friends who put volumes Chinese poetry on toilet against Facebook doomscroll: might fall repeat step read louder actual feeling for everything seen dead empire too. Recommending to anyone skirting ache and aware small dust larger eternal why nature conversation.”