Wang Wei (701-761 C.E.) is often spoken of, with his contemporaries Li
Po and Tu Fu, as one of the three greatest poets in China's 3,000-year
poetic tradition. Of the three, Wang was the consummate master of the
short imagistic landscape poem that came to typify classical Chinese
poetry. He developed a nature poetry of resounding tranquility wherein
deep understanding goes far beyond the words on the page--a poetics that
can be traced to his assiduous practice of Ch'an (Zen) Buddhism. But in
spite of this philosophical depth, Wang is not a difficult poet. Indeed,
he may be the most immediately appealing of China's great poets, and in
Hinton's masterful translations he sounds utterly contemporary. Many of
his best poems are incredibly concise, composed of only twenty words,
and they often turn on the tiniest details: a bird's cry, a splinter of
light on moss, an egret's wingbeat. Such imagistic clarity is not
surprising since Wang was also one of China's greatest landscape
painters. This is a breathtaking poetry, one that in true Zen fashion
renders the ten thousand things of this world in such a way that they
empty the self even as they shimmer with the clarity of their own
self-sufficient identity.