T'ao Ch'ien

T'ao Ch'ien  (Y'ao Yuan-ming) (365-427 A.D.) was one of those educated and  literary Chinese officials who fell out of favour and took refuge in country parts.  One senses in these poet-recluses that they were  square pegs in a round holes to start off  in government service. Their poetic sensibilities made heavy going of the shrewd and ruthless politics of the day.   Unlike some who create a poetic pose of their poverty T'ao Ch'ien did fall on hard times.  He was a farmer on a modest holding.  He loved playing the lute, reading, visiting friends and drinking home brewed wine. Apparently this drinking was limited to just the amount of  wine necessary to become relaxed and mellow - and no doubt soften the soul for some more poetry.  T'ao Ch'ien poems (in translation) come across as quite modern and natural.  This is remarkable given he was born in 365 A.D. Despite his hardships there is an joy in life in the poems and a counter point of stoic resignation.  It is the same attitude one finds in Taoism of Lao Tzu or Chuang Tzu.  If we can only simplify ourselves (meaning empty ourselves of conditioning and contradictions) then all will be harmony under a beneficent Heaven.  Here is a favourite poem from the translations of David Hamilton in his book The Selected Poems T'ao Ch'ien. I often wonder what happened to his sons. 


SCOLDING MY SONS

My temples covered all in white. I'm
slack-muscled and loose-skinned for good. 

now. And though I do have five sons, 
not one of them prizes paper and brush. 

A-shu is already twice eight, and who's 
ever equalled him for sheer laziness?

A-hsuan is fifteen, time studies began, 
but he's immune to words and ideas. 

Yung and Tuan are both thirteen now, 
and they can't even add six and seven. 

And T'ung-tzu, who's almost nine, does 
nothing but forage pears and chestnuts. 

If this is heaven's way, I'll offer it 
that stuff in the cup. It needs a drink.