Sun falls, the mountain waters quiet.
For you, it makes pines sing.
CUi HAO
Pavilion of the Yellow Crane
The ancients are gone, upon the Yellow Crane.
All that remains: the pavilion bears its name,
And Yellow Crane, once gone, will not return.
White clouds, a thousand years, the empty distance.
Sunlit river clearly seen; trees of Han-yang.
Fragrant grasses burgeon; Isle of the Parrots.
Sun sets, where is my home?
Misty waves upon the river; load me with grief.
* * *
This poem was analyzed, as an illustration of the lü-shi form, on this page–this page.
WANG WEI
In Retirement at Zhongnan
To middle age I loved the Way.
Late now, I lodge upon South Mountain.
If feelings rise, I go alone:
Such scenes as I have seen…
Walk to where the waters narrow,
Sit, and wait, for the clouds to rise.
Let me meet by chance with any old man:
We laugh and chat, no thought of the return.
* * *
The parallel couplet of lines 5 and 6 provides an excellent illustration of the profound spirit of parallelism. The translation offered here touches only the temporal and linear aspects of the two lines. By referring to the word-for-word translation offered below, the reader may be able to perceive that the coupling of the parallel elements engenders a deeper significance.
Taken in their coupling, the pair “walk-sit” signifies movement and rest; the pair “attain-see,” action and contemplation. The pair “water-cloud” signifies universal transformation, while “narrow-rise” signifies death and rebirth. Finally, the pair “place-moment” signifies space and time. Once the series of significations is taken into account, the two lines may be seen to embody the two fundamental dimensions of all life. And the true way of life is not to choose one or the other exclusively, but rather to embrace the Void between the two, for it is that choice which allows man to sunder neither action and contemplation nor time and space, and thus to participate in the universal transformation.
WANG WEI
Mount Zhong-nan
Zhong-nan, The Great One, so near the Celestial City,
Linked mount on mount to the sea.
White clouds, where I look back, close in.
Green mists, when I approach, are gone.
Its peak, the pivot of the constellations’ change;
Its valleys deep, define both light and shade.
I try to find a place to spend the night,
Across the stream, call to the woodcutter.
* * *
Lines 1 and 6: Several terms are here used with double meanings. In line 1, Tai-yi (The Great One) is both a notion of Chinese spirituality and an alternate name for Mount Zhong-nan. Tian-du (Celestial City) is the name of a star, but also designates the Tang capital. Mount Zhong-nan is, indeed, located near the capital, Chang-an. In line 6, the expression translated “light and shade” alludes to yin and yang as well as to the sunny (southern) and shady (northern) sides of the mountain.
Lines 3 and 4: concerning the omission of the personal pronoun, see this page–this page. A more “explicit” translation might be: “The white clouds, when one turns back to contemplate them, melt together into a unity; the green rays, to the extent to which one penetrates there, become invisible.” Because of the double meaning of the many terms and the intentional syntactic ambiguity of certain lines, the poem mixes together two orders of being, and celestial (The Great One, the star, yin and yang, etc.) and the terrestrial (Mount Zhong-nan, Chang-an, the sunny and shady sides of the mountain). The reader is presented with the impression that the poem relates, rather than a simple mountain walk of the poet, the visit to the terrestrial world of a divine spirit who descends little by little from the peak into the valley, finally embodying himself to speak with the woodcutter.
WANG WEI
Autumn Mountain Evening
Empty mountain, after new rain,
The air of nightfall, autumn.
A bright moon glows among the pines.
The clear stream flows, upon the rocks.
Bamboo rustles, washing maids come home.
Lotus stirs, as fishing boats return.
Fragrance of spring rests here and there.
You too, my gentle friend, may stay.
* * *
On the parallelism of lines 3 and 4, see this page.
Line 8 may also be interpreted “A gentleman can conserve the springtime within himself.”
WANG WEI
Written in Spring in My Country Garden
Above this room, the Spring’s doves coo.
By the village, almond blossoms whiten.
Axes in hand, some go to prune the willows.
Shouldering their hoes, some go to clear the channels.
Returning swallows recognize their last year’s nests.
One who’s dwelt here long leafs this year’s calendar,
Faces the cup, then stays his hand.
Long, warm thoughts of you, far wandering.
WANG WEI
Mission to the Frontier
A single cart to the frontier
Beyond Ju-yan, past conquered states,
Wandering grass, beyond our borders.
Wild geese, in alien skies.
Vast desert, lone spire of smoke, stands straight.
Long river, the falling sun rolls round.
At Desolation Pass, met a patrol.
Headquarters camp, on Swallow Mountain.
* * *
Wang Wei undertook this mission to the frontier in 737.
Line 2: Ju-yan = territory of the Xiong-nu, conquered by the Han.
Line 3: Wandering grass = metaphor that designates a man in exile.
Lines 5 and 6: See this page–this page concerning the parallelism.
WANG WEI
Watching the Chase
Wind fierce, the horned bows sing.
The generals, in chase at Wei-cheng.
Withered grass, swift eagle eyes.
Snow gone, their steeds step light.
Sudden passed, Abundance Market.
Returning to Five Willow Camp.
Turn and gaze, where the eagle fell:
A thousand li of evening sky stretch on.
WANG WEI
Passing Hidden Fragrance Temple
Who knows the Hidden Fragrance Temple,
How many li away, on cloudy peak?
Ancient trees, no trace of path.
Deep mountain, whence the bell?
Sound of the spring, the standing stones, sobbing.
Color of the sun, the green pines, freezing.
Toward dusk, on the curve of the lake,
Quiet Chan, to tame the poison dragon.
* * *
Lines 5 and 6: In the original, these lines are, by their syntactic structure, ambiguous. Is it the spring that sobs, or the rocks? Is it the sunlight that freezes, or the pines? The interpretive translation attempts to maintain the feeling of reciprocity (and of correspondence).
Line 8: Chan (Zen in Japanese) is the Chinese transcription of the Buddhist term dhyana which means meditation-concentration. It is, as well, the name of a school of Chinese Buddhism. The poison dragon represents inappropriate passions.
WANG WEI
To Magistrate Zhang
Late, I love but quietness:
Things of this world are no more my concern.
Looking back, I’ve known no better plan
Than this: returning to the grove.
Pine breezes: loosen my robe.
Mountain moon beams: play my lute.
What, you ask, is Final Truth?
The fisherman’s song, strikes deep into the bank.
MENG HAO-RAN
Master Yi’s Chamber in the Da-yu Temple
Yi Gong’s place to practice Chan:
A hut, in empty grove.
Outside the door, a single pretty peak.
Before the stair, deep valleys.
Sunset confused in footprints of the rain.
Blue of the void in the shade of the court.
Look, and see: the lotus blossom’s purity.
Know, then, that nothing taints this heart.
MENG HAO-RAN
At an Old Friend’s
Old friend prepared me fowl and millet,
Invited me to his country home.
Green trees fence in the village.
Blue hills incline, beyond that wall.
Supped there beside the kitchen garden
Sipped wine, and spoke of mulberry, and hemp.
Just wait, until the Double Ninth,
I’ll come again, for the chrysanthemums.
* * *
Line 6: “Talked of mulberry and hemp” is a conventional expression for friendly and carefree talk between country gentlemen (much as we say we “talked about the weather”).
Line 7: Double Ninth = Autumn festival that is held on the ninth day of the ninth (lunar) month. Traditionally, the celebrants climb the heights to better participate in the fullness of nature.
LI BAI
Searching for Master Yong
So many cliffs, jade blue to scour the sky,
I’ve rambled, years uncounted,
Brushed aside the clouds, and sought the Ancient Way,
Or leaned against a tree and listened to streams flow.
Sunwarmed blossoms: the blue ox sleeps.
Tall pines: the white cranes resting.
Words came, with the river sunset.
Alone, I came down, through the cold mist.
LI BAI
Seeing off a Friend
Green mountains border Northern Rampart.
Clear water curls by Eastern Wall.
Here, we’ll make our parting.
There, lonely brambles stretch ten thousand li.
Floating clouds: the traveler’s thoughts.
Falling sun: the old friend’s feelings.
Touch hands, and now you go,
Muffled sighs, and the post horse, neighing.
* * *
For the comparison in lines 5 and 6, see this page.
DU FU
In Contemplation of Mount Tai
Mountain of Mountains it’s called. Why so?
The green of Qi and Lu is lost to view.
Here Creation crystalizes grace.
With north and southern slopes defining dusk and dawn.
Chest straining, where thick clouds grow.
Eyes bursting to see returning birds.
Shall I, one day, attain that final summit?
* * *
All other mountains, at a glance, grown small?
Mount Tai, which divides Shan-dong province into two parts, Qi and Lu, is the most famous of the five sacred mountains of China. It has another name, Dai-zong, which can be translated “Ancestor of Mountains.”
Line 1: The poet uses a direct colloquial tone to express his feelings upon finally finding himself before the famous mountain.
Lines 5 and 6: Our translation attempts to conserve the ambiguity of the original lines. In the absence of the personal pronoun it is possible to ask whether the “straining chest” and the “bursting eyes” are those of the poet, or of the mountain personified. In reality the poet is trying to express precisely the identification of the climber with the mountain, and to give a vision of the mountain within.
The last two lines refer to the phrase in Mencius, “When Confucius reached the summit of Mount Tai, the Universe appeared suddenly small.”
This poem, which is traditionally classed as a gu-ti-shi, was written in 736, when the poet was twenty-four.
DU FU
Captive Spring
The nation is sundered; the mountains, the rivers, remain.
The city’s spring; trees and grasses, deep.
Touched by times passing; flowers drip tears.
Pained at this separation: birds jar the heart.
Beacons of war burn now into the third month.
One note from home: I’d give a thousand gold.
White hair, scratched even thinner,
No enough left for a hairpin.
* * *
This poem was composed by Du Fu in the spring of 757, while he was being held captive in the capital, Chang-an, by the rebels of An Lu-shan.
Lines 3 and 4: Owing to their extreme concision, these lines are open to multiple interpretations. The “normal” translation would be “Regretting the time that passes, I let my tears fall upon the flowers (which I contemplate); and, suffering from separation, my heart starts when I see the birds flying free.” But, as they are read word for word, the lines may also suggest that the flowers themselves participate in the human drama, dripping tears, and the birds fly up in fright at the same circumstances that ravage the poet. The image of the hairpin (signifying evanescent youth) that ends the poem contrasts ironically with that of the luxuriant nature with which the poem begins.
See this page–this page for a discussion of the function of the caesura.
DU FU
The Barbarian Horse of Officer Fang
Barbarian horse, the famed of Fergana,
Sharp angles, lean-boned lines.
Bamboo spikes, the two ears spire.
To pierce the wind, these four feet light.
Across that vast, that endless space,
You may trust it with your life.
Such a steed! With one like this
Ten thousand li’s just a canter.
DU FU
Moonlight Night
Moon of this night, in Fu-zhou.
Alone in your chamber you gaze.
Here, far away, I think of the children,
Too young to remember Longpeace…
Fragrant mist, moist cloud of your hair.
In that clear light, your arm jade cool.
When may we lean by your empty curtain,
Alight alike, until our tears have dried.
* * *
The poet, captive in Chang-an, addresses this poem to his wife, who was with their children in Fu-zhou, in Shen-xi, outside the area held by the rebels.
Line 4: the name of the Tang capital, Chang-an, means “long peace.” The line has a double meaning: “The children are too young to remember having been in Chang-an” and “the children, growing up in wartime, don’t know what peace is.”
Lines 5 and 6: see this page–this page with regard to the metaphors.
DU FU
On Hearing that the Imperial Army Has Retaken He-nan and He-bei
From Swordgate the news: Ji-bei is retaken!
When first I heard, tears wet my gown.
Then I gazed on wife and children, all grief gone.
Wild, I rolled up all my scrolls; a joy like madness.
Into bright day set free a song, and drank all unrestrained.
Green spring beside me, so good to go home!
Now, to sail through Ba Gorge, to the gorges of Wu,
Downriver past Xiang-yang, and finally, to Luo-yang.
* * *
In 763, Du Fu was in Si-chuan not far from Jian-ge (Swordgate) when he heard that the central and northeastern provinces had been recovered by government troops, ending the An Lu-shan Rebellion, which had begun eight years earlier.
Lines 7 and 8: contrary to the rule of the lü-shi that states that the last couplet may not be parallel, this one is distinctly so, as if the poet sought to prolong the euphoric state described in the preceding parallel couplets. Note also the phonic contrast of the two lines: in line 7, the series of “tense” consonant sounds—ji, xia, xia—which reinforce the idea of an oppressive state, and in line 8 the series of -ang finals, which in the Chinese poetic tradition suggest exultation and deliverance. See this page–this page and this page.
DU FU
If you draw the bow, draw the strongest.
Choosing arrows, take the longest.
To down the man, aim for the horse.
Taking bandits, aim for the chief.
Killing, let there be a limit,
And each land its own bounds.
If you can repel invaders,
What use, in killing, maiming more?
* * *
In the original, there is a strong percussive accent in the first strophe (lines 1–4) created by the alternating play of the same initials and finals (Wan gong dang wan qiang / Yong jian dang yong chang / She ren xian she ma / Qin zei xian qin wang).
Though very close in form, this poem is not, technically speaking, actually a lü-shi.
DU FU
Bai-di
At Bai-di clouds leap from the gates.
Below Bai-di, it rains, as from an upturned tub.
High water, narrow gorge, lightning and thunder battle.
Green trees, gray vines, sun and moon, dusk.
War horses, not so quiet as a horse returning home.
A thousand families once, now just a hundred left.
Sad sad widow, taxed and labored out,
Grieving, crying for what village on that autumn plain?
* * *
Bai-di (White Emperor): this high-perched city dominates the gorges of the Yang-tze.
DU FU
To My Guest
South of the hut, north of the hut, everywhere, spring floods.
Only the gulls come every day.
Chinese Poetic Writing Page 16
