Garden Lament (by Du Mu)

One of the recurring themes of Tang poetry is the garden lament, which strikes me as most apt this time of year, as the azaleas and rhododendrons and peonies are now completely spent, and we're still waiting for the hydrangeas and lilies to hit full stride.  So here is a garden lament from the great Du Mu that I hope will tide us over until the next incoming wave of blossoms has a chance to assume full form.

Flower Lament

How I regret the pursuit of fragrance

That’s already almost completely spent

In former years what once was seen

Well before the blossom opened

Just today the wind has stripped bare

Leaving the bough a disorderly mess

As bit actors now emerge from the shade

Preparing to play their role on the branch

     

即事

杜牧

小院无人雨长苔

满庭修竹间疏槐

春愁兀兀成幽梦

又被流莺唤醒来

And here's my own attempt at a lament for late June - a time of transition, on the verge of high summer, when along with the grubs and mealy bugs that descend on the garden, time's winged chariot first seems to draw near.

In late June

The green leaves

Basking in morning light

Have overleaped time and 

Grown golden in hue already

Dreaming of their transport

And the family of swans

Swimming in stately fashion

On the glittering waterway

Have assembled as if to mourn 

The summer's passage