Meng Hao-jan

A.D. 689-740





One of the few literary men of the day whose later life
was devoted entirely to literature. He was the inseparable friend
of the famous Buddhist poet and doctor, Wang Wei. He spent the first
forty years of his life in acquiring knowledge, but having failed to obtain
his doctor's degree, he returned to the quiet hills of his native province
and dedicated his remaining years to composition. Most of his poems,
other than certain political satire, which drew on him the Emperor's wrath,
are full of subtle sadness and fragrant regret, reminding one of pot-pourri
in some deep blue porcelain bowl.




The Lost One



The red gleam o'er the mountains
Goes wavering from sight,
And the quiet moon enhances
The loveliness of night.