A perennial hobby of mine is translating historical poetry into modern English, just for fun. I am under no illusions about how good these translations are, I know they're bad; I mostly do them for the fun and the process.
花 非 花
雾 非 雾
夜 半 来
天 明 去
来 知 春 梦 几 多 时
去 似 朝 云 无 觅 处
This poems nicely illustrates a gripe I have with a lot of translations of Tang poems in specific, and Classical Chinese poetry more generally. Almost every translation I checked of this poem adds a subject 'she' to the last two lines, and some add 'she' the preceding lines as well. 'She comes like spring dreams' and 'she goes like the bright sky.' If Bai Juyi had wanted to put in a subject, he could have (in point of fact, he essentially never does). English gerunds and simple presents are even still more specific than the open ambiguity of Bai Juyi's verbs, but in my opinion they maximally avoid putting things into the poem that aren't there.
山 僧 对 棋 坐
局 上 竹 阴 清
映 竹 无 人 见
时 闻 下 子 声
On the mountain, monks at chess sit facing
Shadowed still bamboo over the board
The shining bamboo no person sees
Sometimes hearing the sound of a lowering piece
This one was really pretty difficult. It is unclear to me the exact relationships between consituents in some of these lines, and I'm still unhappy with some of the word translations - 'still' for 清 is correct, in the sense of being unmoving, which I feel works well to parallel the the stillness of the monks and to contrast the small movements of the pieces. However, it carries the unfortunate temporal meaning of 'still' in English, which is not in 清.
翠色連荒岸
煙姿入遠樓
影鋪秋水面
花落釣人頭
根老藏魚窟
枝低繫客舟
蕭蕭風雨夜
驚夢復添愁
Blue-green links the desolate banks
Misty forms enter and exit the mansion
Shadows spread on the autumnal water's surface
Flowers drop on fishermen's heads
Old roots conceal the caves of fish
Low branches arrest guests' boats
Dreary, dreary, wind and rain and night
Startling dreams return and replenish anxiety
I find the poetry of Yu Xuanji endlessly arresting. She has an immediacy that is sometimes lacking in the tenseless and floaty images of Tang poetry in general. She's also a very interesting historical figure, and worth looking into. One of a small number of female medieval chinese poets whose work we have, she lived at different times as a concubine and a courtesan and Daoist nun. Her name is interesting, the very rare surname 魚 'fish', and the personal name 玄機, which might be translated as 'Arcane Secret', 'Profound Theory', or 'Mysterious Principle'. She traveled widely on her riverboat as a nun, and much of her poetry reflects themes of water and travel and her various sexual encounters with men and women on these trips. She was executed at about 28 in circa 868.
轻阴阁小雨
深院昼慵开
坐看苍苔色
欲上人衣来
Gentle cloud on the pavilion, and light rain
Wearily opening the afternoon courtyard
Sit and look at the color of green moss
Wishing for people's clothing to come up
This one mystifies me a little, I have to admit. I have no idea what he means in the last line. The words, in order, literally mean 'to want/intend' 'up/above' 'people' 'clothing' 'come'. Is he going to pick up people's clothes in the pavilion? Is he comparing the color of the moss to the pretty clothes? Why do so many other translators translate 欲 as 'about to' when it is clearly a verb?
空山新雨后
天气晚来秋
明月松间照
清泉石上流
竹喧归浣女
莲动下渔舟
随意春芳歇
王孙自可留
The empty mountain after fresh rain
Autumn's weather comes late
The bright moon softly lights the room
From the clear stone spring rises the river
Noisy bamboo belongs to the washerwomen
Lotus stirs below fishing boats
As they please, spring flowers take it easy
For noble children remain among themselves
This poem hits a lot of themes very common in Tang poetry (seasons, weather, the moon, water), but it executes them so well, it's one of my favorites. I particularly love the metaphor of spring flowers on the riverbanks as indolent children of the nobility.