Wei would love to retire, but he can't

More hate translation

Outside the City
Wei Yingwu

Trapped in official halls so many years,
Out I go to enjoy the clear dawn light.
A soft zephyr comes from the willow trees,
The green of the hills quiets my worries.
I pause to rest against a leafy trunk,
Then follow river gulches back and forth,
A gentle drizzle mists the fragrant hills,
And somewhere a dove coos, though out of sight.
These slow pleasures are always cut too short,
The demands of work set me chasing round...
Eventually I’ll build a cottage here,
And choose bucolic idyll, like Tao Qian.


韦应物  东郊
吏舍跼终年，出郊旷清曙。
杨柳散和风，青山澹吾虑。
依丛适自憩，缘涧还复去。
微雨霭芳原，春鸠鸣何处。
乐幽心屡止，遵事迹犹遽。
终罢斯结庐，慕陶直可庶。

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More hating on Wei Yingwu. But in this poem, I think he’s only guilty of highlighting a contradiction that is inherent in lots of classical poetry: to any of the poets who yearned for the quiet life, one could always say, just buzz off and live in obscurity, then! Most good poets who wished for a country cottage had sufficient humility or self-awareness to realise that they needed an angle to negotiate the humblebrag nature of the genre.

But not our Mr Wei. He bites the bullet hard and does not shy away from telling us that his very important work keeps him frightfully busy. He also casually drops into the last line that when he does retire, it will be a bit like Tao Qian, also known as Tao Yuanming, the guy who wrote about the peach blossom spring, and one of the ancient world’s most revered poets.

Irritatingly, this is also a lovely poem. The images and sounds flow smoothly together, and make for a satisfying whole. Please accept my half-hearted recommendation.