Poetry - 10

For the start of this series, go here.

For the tenth poem, the authors stay with Chinese poets.  This one is by Po Chu-I and is titled 'Madly Singing in the Mountains'.

There is no one among men that has not a special failing;
And my failing consists in writing verses.
I have broken away from the thousand ties of life:
But this infirmity still remains behind.
Each time that I look at a fine landscape;
Each time that I meet a loved friend,
I raise my voice and recite a stanza of poetry
And am glad as though a god had crossed my path.
Ever since the day I was banished to Hsun-yang
Half my time I have lived among the hills.
And often when I have finished a new poem,
Alone I climb the road to the Eastern Rock.
I lean my body on the banks of white stone:
I pull down with my hands a green cassia branch.
My mad singing startles the valleys and hills:
The apes and birds all come to peep.
Fearing to become a laughingstock to the world,
I choose a place that is unfrequented by men.

I find that sentiment of this poem to be quite nice.  I grew up in a place where it wasn't tough to get out and away from people but now I live in a big city.  I miss those places 'unfrequented by men'.  It's strange that he finds his poetry to be a failing.  I don't know enough about the time period to know if that is meant ironically or not.  Overall the language doesn't really sing to me.  Frankly, I didn't care for this as much as the last few.