The delightful poetry of Tao Yuanming

Words for when there are none

I built my hut in a zone of human habitation,
Yet near me there sounds no noise of horse or coach.
Would you know how that is possible?
A heart that is distant creates a wilderness round it.
I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge,
Then gaze long at the distant summer hills.
The mountain air is fresh at the dusk of day:
The flying birds two by two return.
In these things there lies a deep meaning;
Yet when we would express it, words suddenly fail us

I first read this poem in Alan Watts’ The Book, which took me completely off-guard with its depth and simplicity. While I’ve re-read his text many times, I recall the times he quotes others daily, and have never been able to shake this one. Often, on walks through the beautiful hills around my parents’ house in Tennessee, I feel the feeling it evokes so deeply that it’s as if it’s running through me. I’ve never read anything before that has had such an effect.

It took a few references back to my notes before I realized that Alan Watts didn’t write it. This made me feel silly at first, but once I got over the misunderstanding, it brought joy, opening up a new opportunity to build a relationship with its quite ancient author.

I learned everything I know about Tao Yuanming on Wikipedia, so I’ll allow you to read the details for yourself, but all you really need to know is that he lived in China around 300 CE, and wrote extensively about beauty in the natural world. Another one of his poems (again from Wikipedia) will help you establish a theme [emphasis mine]:

The myriad transformations
unravel one another
And human life
how should it not be hard?
From ancient times
there was none but had to die,
Remembering this
scorches my very heart.
What is there I can do
to assuage this mood?
Only enjoy myself
drinking my unstrained wine.
I do not know
about a thousand years,
Rather let me make
this morning last forever.

As an aside, I was looking for a Taoist verse I read recently on drinking wine, which I still can’t find, but it led me to the Eight Immortals of the Wine Cup, pretty hilarious (and hilariously named) poetry about how the eight most influential men in the Tang dynasty were wasted all the time.

“I do not know about a thousand years, Rather let me make this morning last forever.” I could read those words a thousand times. At the moment, I’m writing this from my parents porch, listening contently to the birds call to each other in a language I don’t understand as the minutes tick towards noon, and I think I understand what he means. Humans often use idioms “if I could freeze time,” implicitly referencing how ridiculous that sounds, but the author is saying that we can. The birds will sing to you as long as you will let them.

I hope his words give you as much peace as they give me, and that you have a wonderful Saturday. Talk soon!