For her calligraphy exhibition, my friend May chose the Tang Dynasty poem 'Farmhouse on Wei River' by Wang Wei.
Wang Wei (701-761) was one of the greatest Tang dynasty poets, along with Li Po and Du Fu. He was also a very famous painter, and calligrapher: "The quality of Wang Wei’s poems can be summed as, the poems hold a painting within them. In observing his paintings you can see that within the painting there is poetry." (wiki link)
This is May's calligraphy
and the poem translated (source)
渭川田家Wèi Chuān Tián Jiā[_Wei_] [river] [field] [home]Farm Houses by Wei River
斜光照墟落，Xié guāngzhào xū luò,[tilt] [ray] [shine] [hill] [set]Tilting rays illuminate the hills and set;
窮巷牛羊歸。Qióng xiàng niú yáng guī.[poor] [alley] [cow] [sheep] [return]to shabby lanes cows and sheep return.
野老念牧童，Yě lǎo niàn mùtóng,[field] [old] [think of] [herd] [boy]In the fields, the old await the shepherd boys,
倚杖候荊扉。Yǐ zhàng hou jīng fēi.[lean on] [staff] [wait] [berry tree] [gate]leaning on staffs, waiting by wooden gates.
雉雊麥苗秀，Zhì gòu mài miáo xiù,[pheasant] [call] [wheat] [sprout] [ear of grain]Pheasants call amongst the wheat, sprouts and grain,
蠶眠桑葉稀。Cán mián sāng yè xī.[silkworm] [sleep] [mulberry] [leaf] [sparse]and silkworms hibernate while mulberry leaves grow sparse.
田夫荷鋤立，Tián fu hè chú lì,[field] [man] [bear] [hoe] [stand]Farmers bearing hoes,
相見語依依。Xiāng jiàn yǔ yīyī.[each other] [see] [speak] [reluctant to part][]see each other and chat, reluctant to part.
即此羡閒逸，Jí cǐ xiàn xián yì,[presently] [this] [envy] [unoccupied] [leisurely]Presently envying this leisurely escape,
悵然吟式微。Chàngrán yín shì wēi.[despair] [-ly] [hum] [Book of Songs] [_Wei_]one despairingly hums the poem _Wei_ from_ The Odes_.
A slightly different translation (source) which clarifies the last line
"In the slant of the sun on the country-side,
Cattle and sheep trail home along the lane;
And a rugged old man in a thatch door
Leans on a staff and thinks of his son, the herdboy.
There are whirring pheasants? full wheat-ears,
Silk-worms asleep, pared mulberry-leaves.
And the farmers, returning with hoes on their shoulders,
Hail one another familiarly.
...No wonder I long for the simple life
And am sighing the old song, Oh, to go Back Again! "
The famous anthology 300 Tang poems includes 29 poems by Wang Wei I rather like these ones:
Deer-park Hermitage (link)
In a Retreat Among Bamboos (link)
In my Lodge at Wang Chuan After a Long Rain (link)
Vice Prefect Yang (link)
My Retreat at Mount Zhongnan (link)
My very favorite Wang Wei poem is 'On Parting With Spring', which I first read in Japan 20 years ago.
"Day after day we can't help growing older.
Year after year spring can't help seeming younger.
Come let's enjoy our winecup today,
Not pity the flowers fallen!" (link)
I'll drink to that!
Wange Wei had a successful career as a government official but he was also a devout buddhist who donated generously to monasteries and spent much time in retreat in the countryside. He spent years studying with Chán (Zen) and would sign his works 'Wang Weimojie' because Wei-mo-jie was a reference to Vimalakirti, the ideal lay practitioner and central figure of the Vimalakirti Sutra.
Not surprisingly, many of his poems speak to buddhist ideas of retreat, detachment and contemplation of nature. Here is a link to some more of Wang Wei's buddhist poems (here), including this one which makes me think of Granddad at his house at Haka.
My Cottage at Deep South Mountain by Wang Wei
In my middle years I love the Dao
and by Deep South Mountain I make my home.
When happy I go alone into the mountains.
Only I understand this joy.
I walk until the water ends, and sit
waiting for the hour when clouds rise.
If I happen to meet an old woodcutter,
I chat with him, laughing and lost to time.
Living in the Mountain on an Autumn Night by Wang Wei
After fresh rain on the empty mountain
comes evening and the cold of autumn.
The full moon burns through the pines.
A brook transparent over the stones.
Bamboo trees crackle as washerwomen go home
and lotus flowers sway as fisherman's boat slips downriver.
Though the fresh smell of grass is gone,
a prince is happy in these hills.
Temple Tree Path by Wang Wei
This narrow path beneath the great trees
is edged darkly with thick greening moss.
We keep it swept clean before the gate, in
expectation of wandering mountain monks.
