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The Selected Poems of Tu Fu

du fu david hinton tu fu

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Tu Fu radically altered poetry as he found it in the High T’ang period. In addition to making formal innovations in language and structure, he extended the range of acceptable subject matter to include all aspects of public and private experience, thus becoming in the words of translator David Hinton, “the first complete poetic sensibility in Chinese literature.”


This edition of The Selected Poems of Tu Fu is the only comprehensive selection of the poet's work currently available in English. While retaining a scholar's devotion to the text, Hinton has attempted “to recreate Tu Fu's poems as new systems of uncertainty." By reflecting all the ambiguity and density of the originals, he has created compelling English poems that significantly alter our conception of Chinese poetry. Included with the poems are the translator’s introduction and translation principles. as well as a biography of Tu Fu; together these provide a fascinating portrait of a uniquely sensitive spirit during one of the most tumultuous periods in Chinese history.

172 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1,1989
Literary awards
alta national translation award, 

This edition

Format
172 pages, Hardcover
Published
June 17, 1989 by New Directions
ISBN
9780811211000
ASIN
0811211002
Language
English

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About the author

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du fu

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Du Fu (Chinese: 杜甫, 712–770) was one of China's greatest poets and a central figure in the literary tradition of the Tang dynasty, often hailed as the "Poet Sage" (詩聖) for his moral integrity and the depth of his work. His poetry, numbering over 1,400 surviving pieces, captures the essence of his turbulent era, blending historical insight, personal struggle, and a deep concern for humanity.
Born into a scholarly family, Du Fu was well-educated in the Confucian classics and aspired to a government career. However, his attempts to gain a stable official position were largely unsuccessful. He experienced firsthand the chaos of the An Lushan Rebellion (755–763), which devastated the Tang empire, displacing millions and leading to widespread suffering. These events profoundly shaped his poetry, turning his work into a powerful chronicle of war, political corruption, and the hardships faced by common people.
Unlike his contemporary Li Bai, whose poetry often embraced spontaneity and romanticism, Du Fu's verse is marked by realism, technical precision, and a strong sense of moral duty. His ability to fuse personal emotion with historical narrative made his work deeply moving and enduring. Themes of exile, poverty, and loyalty pervade his later poetry, as he spent much of his life wandering in hardship, struggling with illness and poverty.
Though largely unrecognized in his lifetime, Du Fu's influence grew over the centuries. Later generations admired his ability to elevate poetry into a form of social commentary, and he became a defining figure in classical Chinese literature. Today, his works continue to be studied and celebrated, both in China and worldwide, for their timeless wisdom, humanistic perspective, and artistic brilliance.

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Rating(3.9 / 5.0, 52 votes)
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52 reviews All reviews
Profile Image for Kimberly .
ihnei
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
April 17,2025
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Even in English these poems shine like Star River in the night sky (the Milky Way).

Du Fu is officially one of my (new) favorite poets.
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Upswing
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
April 17,2025
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Love Du Fu but didn't fully get on with Hinton's translations here. I felt like I was reading 80% him and 20% the original, which in one sense might be inevitable, but I suppose his fairly eccentric and broad attempts at explaining Zen Buddhism & Daoism at the same time as translating Du Fu contributed to me losing a bit of trust in him. I also didn't love all the faintly exoticising portmanteaus (sometimes two or three lines would just be composed of these almost unreadable hybrid forms), especially when combined with some random informal colloquialisms & anachronisms (shit, potpourri, old-timer etcetc), and the constant use of slightly awkward contractions and the word 'just' every poem or so. (I'm being mean: translating literary chinese is haard, and this isn't all negatives. Also, I have no ability to do it myself, so maybe it's me who's bringing unfair assumptions to the work)
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PwrzTinkering
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
April 17,2025
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They say he's the best poet of China. He wrote 1300 years ago. I like him. He's saddening. He's a poet though.
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Clairvoyancex
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
April 17,2025
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This review is for The Selected Poems of Tu Fu translated by David Hinton.

With translated poetry, I simply want to read good poetry that speaks to me. I find translations make a difference, but I don't care as much about how "accurate" the translation is to the original language - I like the translator to take liberties. The spirit of the original poem is often more authentic when liberties are taken when translating. I really can't comment on David Hinton's translation, but I look forward to comparing it to Burton Watson & David Young's translations. I enjoyed reading David Hinton's introduction:

n  So, although I have tried to remain faithful to the content of Tu Fu's poems, I have made little attempt to mimic the formal or linguistic characteristics of the originals, because to do so would be to misrepresent them entirely...My overall intent has been to create reciprocal configurations in English. And rather than resolving the uncertainties of the originals, I have tried to recreate Tu Fu's poems as new systems of uncertainty, as the poems he might have written had he been writing in today's English."

Tu Fu's years of wandering did not end with his death. Because of the poverty and dislocation of his family, he was not finally buried in the family graveyard near Lo-yang until his grandson managed to arrange it in 813, forty-three years after his death. Although Tu's work had aroused relatively little interest during his lifetime, the praise in Yuan Chen's tomb inscription indicates that his poems had begun to startle and move readers. Thus, he satisfied the terms of his famous statement on poetics: "If my words aren't startling, death itself is without rest." My hope for these translations is that they might deepen Tu's millennial repose

Vermont, January 1989 David Hintonn



Moonlit Night

Tonight at Fu-Chou, this moon she watches
Alone in our room. And my little, far-off
Children, too young to understand what keeps me

Away, or even remember Ch’ang-an. By now,
Her hair will be mist-scented, her jade-white
Arms chilled in its clear light. When
Will it find us together again, drapes drawn
Open, light traced where it dries our tears?


Thoughts Come

My sad eyes find frost and wild, blooming
Chrysanthemums on a cold wall. Broken willows
Sway in heaven’s wind. And when a clear flute
Sings, my traveler’s tears fall. A tower’s

Shadow stretching across poised water, peaks
Gather darkness. A frontier sun stalls–then
Night. After returning birds arrive, come
Slaughter-filled cries: crows settling-in.



The New Moon

Slice of ascending light, arc tipped
Aside its bellied darkness–the new moon
Appears and, scarcely risen beyond ancient
Frontiers, edges behind clouds. Silver,

Changeless–Heaven’s River spreads across
Empty peaks scoured with cold. White
Dew dusts the courtyard, chrysanthemum
Blossoms clotting there with swollen dark.


9/9, On Tzu-Chou City Wall p.66

This night of yellow-blossom wine
Finds me old, my hair white. Joys
I ponder lost to youth, I look out
Across distances. Seasons run together.

Brothers and sisters inhabit desolate
Songs. Heaven and Earth fill drunken eyes.
Warriors and spears, frontier passes. . . .
All day, thoughts have gone on and on


Farewell At Fang Kuan’s Grave p.67

Traveling again in some distant place, I
Pause here to offer your lonely grave
Farewell. By now, tears haven’t left dry
Earth anywhere. Clouds drift low in empty

Sky, broken. Hsieh An’s old go partner,
Sword in hand, I come in search of Hsu,
But find only forest blossoms falling and
Oriole songs sending a passerby on his way.

Excerpts from Adrift p.68

As I row upstream past a tower, the boat
glides into its shadow. Even this far
west, the stately pines of Ch’eng-tu’s
widespread villages continue. And beyond,

out there in untouched country, autumn
colors heighten cold clarity. Mountain
snows bleached in its glare, sunlight
conjures exquisite rainbows among clouds.

…

Craving delicate beauty,
we avoid the thick squalor of things.

Over my village: scattered clouds, lovely
twilight. Here, roosting hens settle in.
Each departure like any other, where is
my life going in these isolate outlands?

Fresh moonlight falls across my clothes. It
ascends ancient walls dusted with frost.
Thick wine ready to drink since time began,
war drums break loose east in the city.

The Musk Deer p.90

Clear streams lost forever, you’ll end
Served up in jade dainties. Little
Talent for the life of hermit immortals,
Unable even to resent fine kitchens–once

Times fall apart, anything is a trifle,
Faint voice at disaster’s heart, anything.
Noblemen noble as thieves, gluttonous,
You’ll get wolfed down in a royal trice.


Rain p.98

Roads not yet glistening, rain slight,
Broken clouds darken after thinning away.
Where they drift, purple cliffs blacken.
And beyond--white birds blaze in flight.

Night p.99

Thoughts p.100

Returning Late p.101

Riverside Moon and Stars p.105

The sudden storm leaves a clear, autumnal
Night and Jade String radiant in gold waves.
Celestial River a timeless white, clarity
Claims Yangtze shallows anew. Strung Pearls

Snaps, scattering shimmering reflections.
A mirror lofts into blank space. Of remnant
Light, the clepsydra’s linger drop,
What remains with frost seizing blossoms?


Opposite A Post-Station, The Boat
Moonlit Beside A Monastery p.105

boat mirroring a clear, bright moon
Deep in the night, I leave lanterns unlit.
A gold monastery stands beyond green maples

Here, a red post-tower beside white water
Faint, drifting from the city, a crow’s cry
Fades. Full of wild grace, egrets sleep.
Hair white, a guest of lakes and rivers,
I tie blinds open and sit alone, sleepless.


Excerpts from Thoughts, Sick With Fever On A Boat
(Thirty-Six Rhymes Offered To Those
I love South Of The Lake) p.112

White houses vanish along the water in fog.
Over the maple shoreline, green peaks rise.
It aches. Winter’s malarial fire aches,
And the drizzling rain won’t stop falling.

Ghosts they welcome here with drums bring
No blessings. Crossbows kill nothing but owls.
When my spirits ebb away, I feel relieved.
And when grief comes, I let it come. I drift

Outskirts of life, both sinking and floating,
Occurrence become its perfect ruin of desertion.


p.115-200 biographical information
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Profile Image for Kimberly .
follybaby
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
April 17,2025
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An artful translation of a short selection of poems by the great Du Fu. What does it mean to live everyday life not only in poverty but also in the midst of war? Du Fu lived in the Tang dynasty well over a thousand years ago but his reflective works still ring true today, especially during this extraordinary time of a pandemic.
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megarock327
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
April 17,2025
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This book is a wonderful read. Hinton has a poetic sensitivity and I think he really captures the spirit of Tu Fu.

Of course, the purists hate translations and yes it's probably difficult to compare with the original work, as not many of us westerners speak Mandarin. However, from the descriptions of his life and character, there seems to be an affiliation between Hinton and Tu Fu.

Each poem is a revealing facet of Tu's life, from his homes, wife and children. He lived in turbulent times, of epic wars and claims to power. Hinton tells us that during one protracted war, an estimated 36 million people were left dead, displaced or homeless. And yet, Tu Fu continued to write his poetry; each one a Taoist/Ch'an meditation that touches the soul.
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