This beloved poem is by Wang Wei (699–761). It painted a picture of the enchanted spaciousness and the intimate sense of oneness between nature and a quietly observing human heart. This picture has nourished the Chinese soul for over a thousand years. It has nourished me through many stormy nights and chaotic seasons.
Wang Wei, like so many great Chinese poets, lived through turbulent times. But the enduring sustenance of his poetry lies precisely there: he distilled peace, stillness, and love for life not from sheltered quiet, but from having seen through suffering and brokenness—and choosing, nonetheless, to sing.
人闲桂花落 In tranquil ease, I watch osmanthus flowers falling,
夜静春山空 The night is hushed, the spring mountains empty.
月出惊山鸟 Moon rises, startling the birds from the ravine,
时鸣春涧中 By the brook in spring, then and again they sing.
Recently, I have done a musical interpretation of this poem. This is a collaboration between me and a friend named 王珲.