The Chinese Poet Li Po lived more than twelve-hundred years ago, and his death probably embarrassed some of his relatives. I very much like his short poems, many of them obviously written after he had a couple of glasses of strong wine. As a matter of fact, it is written that he drowned out near Yellow Crane Tower after jumping from a small boat to embrace the reflection of the full moon. Some say he fell into a lake; others say it was the river. I like the lake story better.

Of more than a thousand poems, some of which I have not read, I know of two that mention Yellow-Crane Tower, which is my favorite among the beautiful old structures from Old China still standing. I am grateful that it wasn’t torn down during the Cultural Revolution. Both of the poems that include Yellow-Crane Tower include a mention of flowers... enough reason, considering the pictures from our garden, for me to include the poems in my BLOG today.

ON YELLOW-CRAME TOWER, FAREWELL TO MENG HAO-JAN WHO’S LEAVING FOR YANG-CHOU

From Yellow-Crane Tower, my old friend leaves the west.
Downstream to Yang-chou, late spring a haze of blossoms,

distant glints of lone sail vanish into emerald-green air:
nothing left but a river flowing on the borders of heaven.

DRINKING WITH SHIH-LANG CHUNG, I HEAR A FLUTE ON YELLOW-CRANE
TOWER SING

Leaving Wu-ch’ang alone, an exile sent wandering away,
I gaze west toward Ch’ang-an, home nowhere in sight.

On Yellow-Crane Tower, there’s a jade-pure flute singing
in this river town, this fifth month, Plum Blossoms Falling.