Into a wine run
I shake it up, then watch as the
mist rises
Language dances drunkenly,
rhymes clash chaotically
The urn breaks, your flesh shatters
Screeching ghosts
Are heard on a vast plain
The howls of wolves are carried
over thousands of miles
Come, sit down, let’s drink together
On this blackest night in history
You and I are obviously not from
among the run-of-the-mill
We aren’t troubled by not being
included in the Three Hundred
Poems of the Tang Dynasty
Of what use are the nine grades
of official rank?
They are not worth bothering about
Weren’t you hung over that year?
Vomiting poetry on the jade steps
of noble houses
Drink, drink up
The moon probably won’t shine tonight
For this once-in-an-eon meeting
I want to take advantage of the
darkness to write you a
difficult poem
Incomprehensible, then let them
not understand
Not understand
Why after reading it we look at
each other and burst out laughing
(Luo 1981: 161–164)
Luo Fu is writing as much about himself as he is about the Tang dynasty
poet. Both poets are misunderstood, but Luo Fu is not whining; his tone
is mocking and he seems fairly certain of his place in modern Chinese
letters. He has accepted the fact that he will never be a popular poet.
Concomitant with the interest and growing influence of traditional
poetry was a thematic turn to root-seeking and nostalgia for his home in
China, a major trend among émigré mainland poets in Taiwan. Luo Fu’s
following collections continued to develop these themes.Wine-Brewing
78 John Balcom
a, â
千坐, 我要與¹共ì
這»¼¢最的1
¹我 閒l物
] Ô入唐P 首 ! ̈愁
#$奉&'0ä: (?
這MÔ)*
當A¹還Ô0在大醉©
y¡嘔吐在,門的玉r
.酒呀.酒
Ñi的月, 大概Ô會_我們
這千 213 Bs
我要 4 _¹ 5 1首晦7的
Ô 8 æk們Ô 8
Ô 8
_ 9 我們Æ©!視大;