#Chinese Poem

[fanatic-freakshow]

Hua Cheng

After seeing the vast sea, no water can compare;

Scattered from the peak of Mount Wu, there are no other clouds...

Xie Lian

Many times I've passed through the flowers, yet I spare them no glance;

For half my fate is in cultivation, and the other half, in you.

Yuan Zhen (poem) written by Hua Cheng and Xie Lian in Book 3

I love how each verse of this poem fits beautifully with the one that writes it...

[tendaysofrain]

“How Often Does Such a Bright Moon Come Around?” (水調歌頭 · 明月幾時有) Translation

(Another year, another Mid-Autumn Festival, another poem translation. This particular poem is very famous because of the first and last lines, which are frequently referenced in popular culture. Happy Mid-Autumn Festival!)

How often does such a bright moon come around?

By Su Shi (Song dynasty, 1076 AD)

Mid-Autumn of the year Bingchen (2), drank all night in celebration, became heavily inebriated.  Composed this poem to commemorate this occasion, and in dedication to Ziyou (3). (4)

How often does such a bright moon come around?  With wine in hand, I ask the heavens.

Wondering what year it is for this day in heaven (5), in the palace high above.

Wishing to ascend on the wind, yet I cannot stand the chilly air around those lofty towers of jade.

Dancing and amused at my own crisp shadow, the frigid heavens surely cannot compare to the mortal realm below.

Rounding the vermilion building, hanging low near the intricate windows, the moon casts light over the sleepless (6).

The moon should not feel bitter jealousy, so why is it only full on parting?

Humans feel grief and joy, partings and reunions, just as the moon waxes and wanes.

For both of these heartening things (7) to happen together is very rare indeed.

May we be blessed with longevity, so that even when thousands of li (8) apart, we can still gaze upon this wonderful moon together.

—————————-

Notes:

This poem is in the Ci/词 format, and follows the rhyme scheme (Cipai/词牌) called Shuidiaogetou/水調歌頭/水调歌头.

Bingchen/丙辰 is a year in the Chinese Sexagenary Cycle, which is known in Chinese as Tiangandizhi/天干地支 ("Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches") or simply Ganzhi/干支 ("Stems and Branches"), and is used to record time. This system has been in use since at least the Shang dynasty around 3000 years ago (oracle bone artifact bearing inscriptions of ganzhi has been found at Yinxu/殷墟, the archaeological site of the ancient capital of Shang dynasty; however, during Shang dynasty the Ganzhi system was used to track days and not years, unlike how it has been used in later times). Because there are 60 years in one cycle, it is possible to trace back to specific years. In this case, Bingchen would be exactly 1076 AD.

Ziyou/子由 is the courtesy name of Su Shi's brother, Su Zhe/蘇轍.

This section is a short introduction to the poem, which begins after this section.

This may be a reference to the concept that "a day in heaven is a year on earth" ("天上一天，地上一年"; famously included in Journey to the West), which in turn is a reference to the ecliptic plane (called Huangdao/黄道 in Chinese), since for an observer on Earth, the Sun appears to move in an elliptical path throughout the year. This means that it takes a year (i.e. "a year on earth") for the Sun to "complete" one round in this elliptical path (i.e. "a day in heaven").

Here, "the sleepless" is a reference to the poet himself.

"Both of these heartening things" refers to reunion with family and/or friend, and the occurence of a full moon.

Li/里 is a traditional unit of distance. During Su Shi's time (Northern Song dynasty, 960 AD - 1279 AD), 1 Li ≈ 576 meters = 0.576 km or 0.36 miles (Note: link leads to pdf).

—————————-

Original Text (Traditional Chinese):

《 水調歌頭 (1) · 明月幾時有 》

[宋] 蘇軾

丙辰中秋，歡飲達旦，大醉，作此篇，兼懷子由。

明月幾時有？把酒問青天。不知天上宮闕，今夕是何年。 我欲乘風歸去，惟恐瓊樓玉宇，高處不勝寒。起舞弄清影，何似在人間。

轉朱閣，低綺戶，照無眠。不應有恨，何事長向別時圓？ 人有悲歡離合，月有陰晴圓缺，此事古難全。但願人長久，千里共嬋娟。

[xueyuverse]

离思五首 — The Five Songs of Mourning (complete)

And a little analysis.

In the morning mirror with the residual makeup of self-love, the hairpin is covered with green silk.

In a moment, the rising sun shone on the blush-painted cheeks, a red rose is about to awaken.

The mountain springs flow freely around the steps, and thousands of peach trees and blossoms reflect on the small building.

Reading Taoism leisurely and not getting up yet, watching her comb her hair under the bead curtain.

The red color is pressed by the new season, and the flower threads are soft and the dust is auspicious.

First of all, don't think that the material and soil are weak, a little sloppy is the most pleasant.

All water is forgettable when you’ve seen the vast blue sea, no clouds so wondrous as those at Mt. Wushan.

Idly, I pass by some flowers without looking back, partly to study Tao, partly to think of you.

There are usually hundreds of kinds of flowers in bloom, but the pear blossoms and white flowers are especially picked.

Today there are two or three trees at the head of the river, sadly spending the last spring with their leaves.

自爱残妆晓镜中，环钗漫篸绿丝丛。 [Zì'ài cán zhuāng xiǎo jìng zhōng, huán chāi màn cǎn lǜ sī cóng.] 须臾日射胭脂颊，一朵红苏旋欲融。 [Xūyú rìshè yānzhī jiá, yī duǒ hóng sū xuán yù róng.] 山泉散漫绕阶流，万树桃花映小楼。 [Shānquán sànmàn rào jiē liú, wàn shù táohuā yìng xiǎo lóu.] 闲读道书慵未起，水晶帘下看梳头。 [Xián dú dào shū yōng wèi qǐ, shuǐjīng lián xià kàn shūtóu.] 红罗著压逐时新，吉了花纱嫩麴尘。 [Hóng luōzhe yā zhú shí xīn, j��liǎo huā shā nèn qū chén.] 第一莫嫌材地弱，些些纰缦最宜人。 [Dì yī mò xián cái de ruò, xiē xiē pī màn zuì yírén.] 曾经沧海难为水，除却巫山不是云。 [Céngjīngcānghǎi nàn wéi shuǐ, chúquè wūshān bùshì yún.] 取次花丛懒回顾，半缘修道半缘君。 [Qǔcì huācóng lǎn huígù, bàn yuán xiūdào bàn yuán jūn.] 寻常百种花齐发，偏摘梨花与白人。 [Xúncháng bǎi zhònghuā qí fā, piān zhāi líhuā yǔ báirén.] 今日江头两三树，可怜和叶度残春。 [Jīnrì jiāng tóu liǎng sān shù, kělián hé yè dù cán chūn.]

Yuan Zhen describes the beauty and shy vanity of a woman who woke up in the early hours of the day. His writing is thoughtful, as if it were a moment he had just experienced, on the morning of the day he wrote the poem.

The landscape is described from far to near, and one can imagine that the colors start out dark and gradually become clear and vivid. Yuan Zhen reads a Taoist work, but neither this nor anything around him stops him from watching his wife getting ready for a new day.

As mentioned earlier, here, the fourth part tells of the poet's devoted love for his wife. Nothing will ever be as splendid as his beloved is to him. Yuan Zhen was intoxicated by the rough sea and beautiful clouds of Wushan, whose beauty was unprecedented.

With the last part, we can conclude that throughout the poem there are dark details amidst the beauty, the apathy of someone who doesn't seem to see anything special anywhere. The land is neglected, the trees are withering. It was the end of spring and a widower was mourning.

[gennsoup]

Is it just coincidence that it's November again, with fog and a leaden twilight?

Adam Zagajewski, Chinese Poem

[marilearnsmandarin]

Book of Tang poetry (and messy piles of pages from New Practical Chinese Reader) on the couch in the sunset on a lazy Sunday afternoon

The book is open on 白居易 (Bai Juyi)'s 红鹦鹉 (Red Parrot).

There are many unknown characters for me and English translations I've found are a bit different from the Portuguese translation on the book, and on my very quick search I've already found criticism on them... so here's a translation of the translation:

The Red Parrot Came from far, Annan*, a red parrot. The color of peach, spoke like a person. As happens to wise, eloquent scholars, Got a cage and spends the years between bars.

*present-day Vietnam

[starlitwishforu]

青玉案 · 元夕 - 辛弃疾 english translation (and notes!)

ok well. all this chinese poetry posting has put me on a bit of a translation high so i wanted to share my most recent translation project, which i actually just finished recording and uploading yesterday after two whole months of waffling. the poem itself is SO fucking cute but SO hard to translate and i'm honestly very proud that i stuck with it to the end. it instantly became one of my top favourites the very first time i heard it so i hope other people can also find some joy from it!

here is the original:

青玉案 · 元夕

【宋】 辛弃疾

东风夜放花千树，更吹落、星如雨。宝马雕车香满路。凤箫声动，玉壶光转，一夜鱼龙舞。

蛾儿雪柳黄金缕，笑语盈盈暗香去。众里寻他千百度，蓦然回首，那人却在 灯火阑珊处。

and here is my translation:

Qing Yu An: Lantern Festival at Dusk

by Xin Qiji

Fireworks blossom beneath the touch of evening's eastern breeze; flurrying as they fall, sparks shower like stars. Prancing steeds pull chiseled carriages, sweeping fragrance across the path. The xiao’s decadent notes adrift, the jadelike light’s prismatic shift; the dragon-fish dance as the night-hours pass.

Combs shining in their hair, golden, silver, silken sway; sweet perfume and tinkling mirth linger in their wake. My searching gaze is futile as I scan the thronging crowds; at last I turn, and you are there, in the quiet dark of evening wane.

translation notes beneath the cut! there is a LOT, be warned!

translation notes:

so to start from the very top, let's first introduce the title 青玉案 · 元夕.

青玉案 (pinyin: Qing Yu An, lit. the matter of the verdant jade) is actually the name of a 宋词排名 (song cipaiming, song dynasty poetic/musical form). just as shakespeare wrote sonnets and basho wrote haiku, so the poets of the song dynasty wrote, among hundreds of other forms with fun names like this, Qing Yu An poems.

each 词排名 had a set number of characters per line, set rules for its tone patterns, and even came with its own tune. maybe a better western parallel would be twinkle twinkle little star, which uses the same tune as the alphabet song and baa baa black sheep.

the end result is that there are many titles under the heading of Qing Yu An, and even, according to chatgpt, another 青玉案 · 元夕.

anyway, this one by Xin Qiji, the most famous one, is titled 元夕 (yuanxi); 元 refers to 元宵节 (yuanxiaojie), the lantern festival held on the fifteenth day of the lunar new year which marks the end of the spring festival/chinese new year, and 夕 is dusk. hence a very naturally poetic name, lantern festival at dusk.

before i get into the text of the poem, i want to note that i often sacrifice rhythm/rhyme for precision of meaning. i ✨artistically✨ speed up/slow down some syllables while recording to preserve some sense of metre lol, but it does read quite awkwardly on paper. i'm a very inexpert student and have a lot to improve on!

ok so! line by line!

东风夜放花千树

--is a literally genius pun. it transliterates as: the east wind in the evening blows open the flowers of a thousand trees. very spring, right? haha spring festival get it.

however! its a chinese celebration, so what will there definitely be? fireworks 😎 and it just so happens that one word for "setting off fireworks" in chinese is 放烟花 (fang yanhua). yep, that's the same 花, which means flowers, but when combined with 烟 (smoke), it becomes a "fire-flower" 🎆!!

it's also the same 放, which in the context of actual flowers means the opening of petals, but in the phrase 放烟花 means to set off (the fireworks).

together, this line evokes both the blooming of the spring flowers under the eastern breeze* and the blooming of a thousand fireworks in the evening sky.

*spring comes from the east ofc; this is folklore and not science i think but lends to the spring-ness of the line

更吹落，星如雨

this one is pretty straightforward. lit. blown through the air by aforementioned wind, falling like a rain shower of stars.

宝马雕车香满路

oh boy. when i tell you my mom (who is my chinese teacher) and i got in several petty arguments over baomadiaoche...

so 宝马 (baoma) are just well-bred horses, prize steeds with a pedigree. a 雕车 (diaoche) (lit. carved chariot) is a very expensive carriage carved with lots of intricate decorations. in other words, these ppl are RICH.

however, it was difficult to convey the sheer decadence of 宝马雕车 without either using a miles worth of syllables or entirely losing the original cultural context. carved was too direct and ugly to hear besides, etched was not elite enough, sculpted conveyed entirely the wrong image... also, for some reason, "proud" to describe steeds was vetoed for being inaccurate???? hence the arguments.

in this scenario, the final word choice really is a matter of the least bad option.

at the same time, the second half of this line 香满路 (lit. fragrance fills the path) implies movement: the carriage is passing by, leaving the fragrance of rich people perfume in its wake. for the sake of syllables, i shifted that movement to the fragrance part of this line. i also like that this evokes a high-headed noble sweeping elegantly through the crowds.

overall, this line adds to the picture of a decadent, bustling market street during the most joyous celebration of the year.

凤箫声动，玉壶光转，一夜鱼龙舞

lit. the notes of the phoenix xiao (chinese recorder) move, jade gourd light shimmers, the fish dragons dance all night.

chinese ppl, ok, use two motifs to describe the beauty and virtue of every artistic thing ever: phoenix and jade. phoenix xiao means NOTHING. it's like virtuous xiao. jade gourd is a little harder; some say it's the moon, some say it's the lanterns. jade and light put together kinda implies moon anyway, so i just sidestepped the problem entirely.

as for 鱼龙 (lit. fish dragons), theyre a type of dragon lantern which supposedly has some characteristic of a fish. they are puppet-danced on sticks - dragon dancing, the classic. my mom and i both had a vivid image of this dragon-lantern-dancing, but we couldn't find it ANYWHERE. if anyone knows the right search query to pull this up, please lmk how to tame 谷大哥*. anyway, i left the lanterns implied because idk how the fuck to explain this whole thing in four syllables.

*lit. big bro google. its funnier in chinese

蛾儿雪柳黄金缕

this is the line that, when i finally bothered to properly research it, made everything about this translation click into place. these are all hair decorations. 蛾儿 (lit. li'l moth) are silk moths, 雪柳 (lit. snow willow) are silver tassels, and 黄金缕 (lit. yellow-golden cords) are gold cords lmao. hence golden silver silken sway, which was SO satisfying to come up with.

笑语盈盈暗香去

lit. laughing speech tinkles and faint fragrance goes by. this one is also fairly straightforward. 去 means to go, so we specifically want the image of a group of giggly teenage girls fading into the crowd.

众里寻他千百度。蓦然回首，那人却在 灯火阑珊处。

and finally we reach the most famous line, the 千古名句 (qiangumingju) - iconic line of a thousand histories!

lit. within the crowd, searching for him* in a thousand hundred directions; suddenly the head turns, it turns out that person is standing in the darkness where the lights have gone out.

*"him" is highly debated. 他, used in modern chinese like the pronoun "he", was historically a catchall pronoun for people of any gender. iirc, 她 for "she", and the gendered distinction, was only introduced when china started integrating to the west. in this line, 他 could be the teen girl that just passed by, or her beau. whichever way, one is the searcher, the other is the searched. i chose here to sidestep this by using i and you bc fuck gender.

anyway, when the searcher's head turns - even this bit had to be suitably poetic, a nightmare - they find their lover in the 灯火阑珊处.

灯火阑珊处 this phrase refers to a very specific image. imagine, in the early hours of the morning, a dwindling market street; the stands are closing one by one, lights winking out, leaving a gentle blanket of dark and calm behind. it is the quiet after the rain, the breath after the shout; it is the sigh of closing your front door at the end of the night. it's not the absence or complete lack of light, but rather the exit of it. a place of that just-left-behind dark is a 灯火阑珊处.

this sentence gave me so much grief and i am so proud to have done it even just a little bit of justice.

so after all that, the scene described by this poem is something like this: a lively late-night market street. people from many walks of life fill the path, celebrating the lantern festival, the turn of a new year and coming of spring, a riotous party of light and noise and joy. as the night slips into the sixteenth, the market begins winding down, stalls closing and lights winking out. amongst the teeming crowds ambling their way home, a young person searches for the their lover from whom they were separated; on some sudden instinct, they turn, to find their lover already looking back from the darkness of the fading festival, gaze caught in the divide between light and dark, wake and sleep: a quiet young love on the edge of spring, something fresh and new.

if anyone made it to this point, thank you and i hope this was an interesting read! please feel free to add comments questions and observations!! i would love to discuss at any level with someone other than my mom and chinese poetry truly is one of my passions even when it makes me want to kill, so i'm always down to talk. :] <3

[rodolfo9999]

勧　酒　　（于武陵）

　　　　　　　　　　　　　（書き下し文）　　酒をすすむ　 勧君金屈巵　　　　　　　　　君に勧む　金屈巵 満酌不須辞　　　　　　　　　満酌　辞するをもちいず 花発多風雨　　　　　　　　　花ひらけば　風雨多し 人生足別離　　　　　　　　　人生　別離足る 和訳（直訳） 　　

君に　この金色の大きな杯を勧める　  なみなみと注いだこの酒　遠慮はしないでくれ花が咲くと 雨が降ったり風が吹いたりするものだ　  人生に 別離はつきものだよ 

（註）・金屈巵＝把手（とって）がついた黄金の大型の杯。 　　　・満酌＝杯になみなみと酒をつぐこと。 　　　・不須辞＝辞退する必要はない。 　　　・足＝多い。

（井伏鱒二の訳） 

コノサカヅキヲ受ケテクレ 

ドウゾナミナミツガシテオクレ 

ハナニアラシノタトヘモアルゾ

「サヨナラ」ダケガ人生ダ

（In English）

I want you to dry up this cup silently. The cup filled with sake is farewell to you. Like the storm which comes when flowers bloom, The good friend goes away、like flowers falling

（Japanese pronunciation）

Kono sakazuki o uketekure

Douzo naminami tsugashiteokure

Hanani arashino tatoemo aruzo

Sayonaradakega jinsei da

[voicelesspiedebates]

INSCRIBED ON THE WALL OF AN INN

NORTH OF TA-YÜ MOUNTAIN

They say that wildgeese, flying southward,

Here turn back, this very month . . .

Shall my own southward journey 

Ever be retraced, I wonder?

. . . The river is pausing at ebb-tide

And the woods are thick with clinging mist-

But tomorrow morning, over the mountain,

Dawn will be white with the plum-trees of home.

Sung Chih-wên

This is poem 73 in The Jade Mountain, published by Doubleday Anchor, including calligraphy by Thomas Eoyang and translations by Witter Bynner.

[freshminttea]

“When entering her bedroom, 

I inhale sadness. 

I climb behind her phoenix bed-curtains, 

Yet they hang to no avail. 

The romance of the spring breeze and autumn moon all ends here. 

Summer days and winter nights spent with her will never come again”

-’Expressing My Grief”, Qianlong Emperor

The Qianlong Emperor (r. 1735-1796) wrote this poem after the death of his first empress, Empress Xiaoxianchun of the Fuca clan. 

Unfortunately, Empress Xiaoxianchun’s personal name was never recorded and therefore lost to time; however, we do know she had an elegant and dignified personality. 

Empress Xiaoxianchun married the Emperor on September 3, 1727 when she was only 15 years old. Their marriage was said to be happy and full of love. It is said they would spend time together by painting, reciting poems, and playing instruments. Emperor Qianlong would often go to her for advice. 

The Empress led a rather frugal life for her station. While many women of the Imperial Harem would adorn themselves with elaborate hairpins and jewels the Empress would wear artificial flowers in her hair. When her husband informed her of how his Manchurian ancestors were too poor to afford cloth and would instead use deer hide to sew their pouches, she made him one of deer hide as well. It is said he deeply cherished the gift and always carried it with him. 

Empress Xiaoxianchun bore four children over the course of her marriage, two daughters and two sons. Unfortunately, three of the four would precede her in death. Her only surviving child, Princess Hejing of the First Rank, would marry into the Mongol Khorchin Borjigin clan sometime in early 1747. 

The deaths of three of her children gradually led to the weakening of her health. Just a few short months after the death of her infant son, Yongcong, Empress Xiaoxianchun would tragically pass away from malarial fever while on a boat tour of the eastern province of Shandong. She was only 36 years old. 

Her death devastated the Qianlong Emperor. He had all of belongings enshrined for 40 years and visited her grave every year. He had two of his sons removed from being potential successors when he found out they had not mourned appropriately and severely punished court officials who shaved their heads during the mourning period. He visited her grave every year until his own death in 1799. 

[inmoonlightpoetry]

中秋节: The Mid-Autumn Festival

Ever wanted to learn more about the Mid-Autumn Festival (September 29th of 2023)? Here are some tales surrounding the holiday, as well as famous poems made with the holiday feeling in mind.

For whom do we eat mooncakes? Why is it that on every 15th day of the 8th month of the lunar calendar, many cultures across Asia reunite with their families to sit out and admire the moon? Why should the moon be admired, and how did this come to be in the first place?Chinese tales hold many beliefs about the holiday’s origins, and a quick look into history provides an added layer of understanding…

[miracris]

暖冬

这年冬天 是个温暖的冬天

金灿灿的暖阳 宛如你的笑靥 消融冰雪

一切都热情洋溢 在这个有你的冬天

朝阳升起 将万物鞭策

风儿是如此和煦 吹拂着松树的臂膊

枯木仿佛也充满活力 跟着风声轻和

枯草也被复活 享受着盖亚女神的抚摩

怎奈何美时美景 从未曾定格

夕阳的画笔 将这世界染成金色

黄昏之神 从不曾在冬天惜墨

霎那间 一切只剩轮廓

未央的夜 却并未令我落寞

就如曾经我们许过的承诺

虽已陨落 但至少温热过

朝阳依旧会每日升起 将大地万物重新注入生机

昼夜总要更替 光明和希冀 总是可期

就如同回忆里和你的打闹嬉戏

原来脑海里 内心里 都是你

不经意间 读取记忆的残片 好似触电

就如你的身影 突然掠过我的视线

试图压抑执念 让关于你的一切 不再浮现

突然发觉 寒冷黑夜 犹如巨兽饕餮 瞬间吞噬一切

蓦然重拾执念 一切重归温暖 仿佛时过境迁

任何风景都看不厌 在这个有你的冬天

每一秒都让人留恋 在这个有你的冬天

原来暖冬这年 因为这是个有你的冬天

Wrote this poem during a long drive lol took me around 2 hours 😂 It's good to know that I'm still able to write poems in Chinese after around 13 years (last time I wrote one was in 2010 I believe) while spending 12 years in the United States 😂

[tendaysofrain]

“Three Poems for the End of the Year” (歲晚三首) Translation

(Happy Spring Festival/Lunar New Year/Chinese New Year to all!  I thought this series of poems was a good introduction for certain traditions and customs surrounding the festival, so here they are, please enjoy!)

Three Poems for the End of the Year

By Su Shi (Song dynasty, 1062 AD, 11th century)

Exchanging gifts at the end of the year is called “gifting the year” (1); inviting others to feast together is called “sending off the year” (2); keeping vigil through the night of the eve is called “watching over the year” (3).  Such are the customs in Shu (4) (5).  Since I am now a government official in Qixia (6) and cannot return home at the end of the year, I am writing these three poems here for Ziyou (7).

Gifting the Year (1)

Each household’s harvest is now done, which will aid in the yearly event (8).

Worried about missing out on the festivities, people exchange presents freely.

The contents vary according to their place of origin, the poor gives little while the rich gives plenty.

An enormous carp lays across the plate, within the cage rests a pair of rabbits.

The wealthy displays extravagance, their embroidered silks glowing in lustrous hues.

The poor cannot afford the luxury, and opted for small gifts of pastries.

The official residence doesn’t have familiar faces, while the celebrations continued in the alleys.

I wish to celebrate with the customs of my hometown, yet there's nobody who will join me.

Sending Off the Year (2)

Faraway lives my old friend, reluctantly do we part.

Though people can return to visit, the years never will.

Where have the years gone?  To the ends of the earth.

Off chasing the east-flowing waters (9), and into the timeless seas.

The neighbor to the east has the well-aged wine, and the neighbor to the west owns the fattened pig.

All for a day’s festivity, to compensate for the melancholy of the ending old year.

But never be consumed while mourning this loss, lest you forgo the fresh new year.

If one looks back while moving forward, old age and infirmity shall catch up.

Watching Over the Year (3)

The year shall soon end, a long snake swimming towards the gloomy depths.

Its slender scales already half out of view, who can hide its intention to leave?

And if one wishes to tie up its tail, though diligent this is still in vain.

Trying their best to fight off sleep, children play merrily into the night.

Wishing the morning rooster won’t crow, my anxiety grows amid the urging of the geng drums (10) (11).

Sitting through the night whilst petals of ash drifts from the lamp (12), the Big Dipper already askew when I stand up.

Will the New Year be absent next year?  I fear what’s on my mind will be delayed again.

The youth who can cherish this singular night, their will and spirit are praiseworthy indeed.

—————————-

Notes:

“Gifting the Year”/饋歲/馈岁:  refers to the custom of exchanging gifts at the end of the year.

“Sending Off the Year”/別歲/别岁:  refers to the custom of feasting on the 29th day of the Twelfth month in order to “bid farewell to the old year”.

“Watching Over the Year”/守歲/守岁:  refers to the custom of staying up through the entire night of the eve and the early hours of the first day of the new year; lamps and candles are also kept on or lit through the night so the light can rid the residence of all evil, pestilence, and illness in preparation for the new year.

Shu/蜀:  name of a region; the archaic name of the region known today as Sichuan/四川.

The first two sentences in Su Shi’s introduction here are a direct reference to the records of New Year’s customs from the Jin dynasty (266 - 420 AD) book 《風土記》 by Zhou Chu/周處/周处.  In fact, Su Shi’s description here is a paraphrase of the same information in 《風土記》:  ”蜀之風俗，晚歲相與餽問，謂之餽歲。酒食相邀為別歲。至除夕，達旦不眠，謂之守歲”.

Qixia/岐下:  refers to the foot of the Qishan/岐山 mountain in Shaanxi province/陕西省 today.

Ziyou/子由:  courtesy name of Su Shi’s younger brother Su Zhe/蘇轍, the recipient of this letter.

Yearly event/歲事:  implies the New Year’s festival, colloquially called “passing the year” (Guonian/過年/过年 or Dusui/度歲/度岁) or “yearly festival” (Nianjie/年節/年节), now known more widely as “Spring Festival”/春节 (this name came about in 1914 from an official document), “Lunar New Year”/农历新年, or “Chinese New Year”.

East-flowing waters:  a common Chinese literary motif that refers to the passage of time; this is because both Yangzi River and Yellow River flow eastwards.

Geng drum:  a drum carried by night watchers, called Gengfu/更夫; gengfu will sound the drum every Shichen/時辰/时辰 (1 shichen = 2 hours) during the night while he is patrolling the streets and on the look out for potential dangers like fires or robbers.

It should be noted that in the old times, age is calculated as “1 year old” at birth, and increases by 1 every New Year’s festival (the resulting age number from this traditional age calculation method is now called Xusui/虛歲/虚岁).  This is reflected in the character sui/歲/岁, which means both “age” and “year”.  This also means that in the old times, everyone has a birthdate, but there are no annual “birthdays”.  Now we can understand Su Shi’s anxiety while waiting for the old year to end:  he will be considered “1 year older” after the eve ends, which reminds him that he’s aging.

Petals of ash:  refers to the ash left by the burning candle wick.

—————————-

Original Text (Traditional Chinese):

《 歲晚三首 》

[宋]  蘇軾

歲晚相與餽問為“餽歲”；酒食相邀呼為“別歲”；至除夜達旦不眠為“守歲”。蜀之風俗如是。餘官於岐下，歲暮思歸而不可得，故為此三詩以寄子由。

《 饋歲 》

農功各已收，歲事得相佐。

為歡恐無及，假物不論貨。

山川隨出產，貧富稱小大。

置盤巨鯉橫，發籠雙兔卧。

富人事華靡，彩繡光翻座。

貧者愧不能，微摯出舂磨。

官居故人少，里巷佳節過。

亦欲舉鄉風，獨唱無人和。

《 別歲 》

故人適千里，臨別尚遲遲。

人行猶可復，歲行那可追。

問歲安所之？遠在天一涯。

已逐東流水，赴海歸無時。

東鄰酒初熟，西舍彘亦肥。

且為一日歡，慰此窮年悲。

勿嗟舊歲別，行與新歲辭。

去去勿回顧，還君老與衰。

《 守歲 》

欲知垂盡歲，有似赴壑蛇。

修鱗半已沒，去意誰能遮。

況欲系其尾，雖勤知奈何。

兒童強不睡，相守夜歡譁。

晨雞且勿鳴，更鼓畏添撾。

坐久燈燼落，起看北斗斜。

明年豈無年，心事恐蹉跎。

努力盡今夕，少年猶可誇。

[xueyuverse]

The Five Songs of Mourning (four), by Yuan Zhen

An analysis of the poem and Hua Cheng

离思 五 首（其四) [Lí sī wǔ shǒu (qí sì)] 曾 经 沧 海 难 为 水 [Céng jīng cānghǎi nán wéi shuǐ] 除 却 巫 山 不 是 云 [Chú què wūshān bú shì yún] 取次 花 丛 懒 回 顾 [Qǔ cì huācóng lǎn huí gù] 半 缘 修 道 半 缘 君 [Bàn yuán xiū dào bàn yuán jūn]

“All water is forgettable when you’ve seen the vast blue sea

No clouds so wondrous as those at Mt. wushan

Idly, I pass by some flowers without looking back

Partly to study Tao, partly to think of you”.

The poem “离思五首 (The Five Songs of Mourning)” was written by 元稹 (Yuan Zhen) after the death of his wife, describing his longing for her. Mourning is a recurring theme in ancient Han poetry. This is part four of five.

Yuan Zhen describes in every word the devotion he felt for his wife, the love he felt for her that would never be forgotten.

The sea water and clouds of Wushan are used as metaphors for the depth and breadth of love. After seeing the sea of Wushan, it is difficult to appreciate the water and clouds of other places. In other words, except for the woman whom the poet misses and loves, there is no other woman who can catch his attention.

曾 经 沧 海 难 为 水, (if you have experienced the rough sea, you will not be attracted to water anywhere else).

This first sentence is also quoted in "孟子·尽心上 (Mèngzǐ: jìnxīn shàng — Mencius: Chapter 1 of “Dedicate Your Heart”, free translation)", which talks about Confucian thought and encourages people to work hard and make a difference. It is one of the important classic works of Confucianism*.

It is interesting to talk about “高唐赋 (Gāo Táng Fù)” from 宋玉 (Song Yu) as well, which tells the story of a king who dreamed of meeting the goddess 瑶姬 (Yao Ji) of wushan:

“In the sun of wushan, blocked by high hills, clouds appear in the morning and rain falls in the evening (姜在巫山之阳，高丘之阻、旦为朝云、暮为行雨。) (Jiāng zài wushan zhī yáng, gāoqiū zhī zǔ, dàn wèi cháo yún, mù wèi xíng yǔ)”.

Nowadays, these two verses have come to refer to loyalty to love, indicating that love belongs to none other than the goddess Yao Ji, and this love is not for others.

The verses in these three poems express one's devotion to another, the dream of finding one's love in wushan, because the clouds and rough sea there are no match for those of others.

除却巫山不是云, (No clouds are as wonderful as those on Mount Wushan).

巫山 (wushan) is both a real place and a metaphor in Chinese poetry that refers to the encounter between men and women. In Yuan Zhen's poem “Li Si,” wushan expresses the loneliness, apathy, and love that the author feels after the loss of his wife.

取次花丛懒回顾, 半缘修道半缘君 (Idly, I pass by some flowers without looking back, partly to study Taoism, partly to think of you).

花 (hua) means flower. The flower here is not referring to nature, but rather to a place with many beautiful women, an allusion to brothels.

Taoism, also called Daoism, is a philosophical and religious tradition that is based on “Tao”, a word that means path or principle, and its goal is to find the path or tao to achieve liberation of the soul.

Taoism has two main branches:

Philosophical Taoism: Focuses on meditation and the study of the Tao to achieve wisdom and inner peace.

Religious Taoism: Involves rituals, worship and the veneration of deities.

The author, by saying that he passed by flowers without caring about them, obviously expresses that no other woman, no matter how beautiful, can compare to his beloved, because only his beloved is his wushan, the goddess Yao Ji. Experiencing grief, his attention has been to practice Taoism, perhaps as a way to find peace, after all Taoism is about the liberation of the soul, or even about continuing to worship, devotedly, his wife, and thinking about his beloved.

This is the favorite poem of Hua Cheng, who spent 800 years searching for his beloved, Xie Lian, being deeply devoted to him in both life and death. Unshakable and firm as a mountain, over the centuries his stubbornness only grew and strengthened him, leading him to commit acts of revenge, adoration, and romance, dreaming of finding him both to protect him and to love him romantically.

With Xie Lian being a god and Hua Cheng his last devotee, it can be said that Xie Lian is Hua Cheng's goddess Yao Ji, the one who ruined him for anyone else, because once you know something divine, nothing else compares.

Hua Cheng's name, 花城, means "city of flowers". Xie Lian's characteristic element is a flower: his first divine title was "Flower Crown Martial God, 花冠武神", his temples were decorated with many branches of flowers, and most of his statues and paintings depict him holding a flower in one hand and a sword in the other. Hua Cheng's name is about Xie Lian and a declaration of love for him.

“Xie Lian’s hand brushed against the red sand plate, leaving a few red traces on the paper as he struggled. On the paper, the words ‘wushan’ in the sentence ‘If you are enchanted by the wind and clouds of wushan, you will not be attracted by the clouds of other scenery’ were stained with small red marks, almost seductively… Xie Lian uttered, “San…” Before he could finish his sentence, Hua Cheng pressed his shoulders down and kissed him.

“San” is from “San Lang,” which is what Xie Lian calls Hua Cheng at Hua Cheng’s request. “Lang” is used by wives to refer to their husbands in Chinese culture. When they first met, Hua Cheng introduced himself as San Lang, and after his identity was revealed, he confessed that he preferred Xie Lian to keep calling him by that name.

The funny thing is that other characters knew Hua Cheng as San Lang before his identity was revealed, but no one dared to say his name other than Xie Lian.

The sedan scene was Hua Cheng finding his beloved wife after 800 years of searching, loneliness, and mourning, but he remained mostly quiet, as if he didn’t want to scare away the god he had dreamed of meeting, and as if he wasn’t yet ready to be anything more than a humble devotee. At that moment, Xie Lian was still a divine figure to be worshipped from afar. The carriage scene was his first courtship, and with a different appearance, Hua Cheng felt more comfortable acting ignorant and also paving the way for romantic love with Xie Lian.

*儒家 (rú jiā), one of the hundreds of schools of thought of the pre-Qin period, and grew out of the ritual and musical tradition of the Zhou Dynasty. Let people not be rigid or conservative, let them not be paranoid or extremist, let them advance with the times and not be complacent.

Sources:

Thinking of you, Yuan Zhen

Ancient Chinese Poetry Network

Wushan, Baidu 

Confucianism 

高唐赋

孟子·尽心上

[haystackpancake]

Walking - Chen Kehua

once we moved in an age of ideas and signs debate's lexicon gouging at truth

we then entered a world of instruments and logic trudging through wastes beyond hypotheses and equations

before soaring into a universe of introspection and dream unfocussed consciousness like the 3000 layers of an onion of worlds-within worlds

these days, we walk in an age of replication and chatter this limited life forging away specially for the sake of futility

new dilemmas hatch from outdated language as fertile as ants nests

"love is universal but we are universally unable to love" light goes in straight lines but it also curves

time is delusion, space illusion no birth no death no filth no purity no increase no decline

must we go on walking whereverwards or will wherever come walking towards us?

-- Chen Kehua, translated by Simon Patton

one of my favorite poems

[marilearnsmandarin]

春望 ("Spring View") by 杜甫 (Du Fu) is my February poem for the 2024 dostoyevsky-official challenge by @dostoyevsky-official.

Yes, I recited it from memory. No, I cannot write all those characters from memory.

I wrote a translation of the poem below, inspired by Vickie Fang's. There are different interpretations for the third and fourth lines - "感时花溅泪，恨别鸟惊心" (such as the one in From Meter to Meaning). I believe this one makes more sense in relation to the previous lines (there is war and suffering going on, but nature is indifferent and spring flowers are blooming anyway).

春望 chūn wàng Spring View

国破山河在 guó pò shān hé zài The nation is broken, the mountains and rivers remain

城春草木深 chéng chūn cǎomù shēn Spring in the city, the vegetation grows deeply.

感时花溅泪 gǎn shí huā jiàn lèi Moved by the moment, I shed tears on the flowers

恨别鸟惊心 hèn bié niǎo jīng xīn Sorrowful for the separation, my heart is startled by birds.

烽火连三月 fēnghuǒ lián sān yuè The beacon fires have been burning for three months

家书抵万金 jiā shū d�� wàn jīn A letter from home is worth ten thousand pieces of gold.

白头搔更短 bái tóu sāo gèng duǎn My white hair, scratched thinner,

浑欲不胜簪 hún yù bù shēng zān Can barely hold a hairpin anymore.

This poem was written by Du Fu in the late spring of 757 AD during the An Lushan Rebellion. An Lushan was a regional military commander in the northern part of the then Tang Dynasty, and he rebelled against the Tang Dynasty at the end of 755. In July of 756, An’s rebel forces captured Chang’an, the capital of the Tang Dynasty. The city was looted and burned by the rebel forces. Du Fu arranged for his wife to stay at the Lu Province, a place north of Chang’an, while Du Fu himself continued his journey north to Ling Wu to join the new emperor Su Zong. However, he was caught by the rebel forces during his journey north, and was taken back to Chang’an as a prisoner. It is said that Du Fu wrote this poem when staying in Chang’an as a prisoner of the rebel forces.

(source: Classic Chinese Poetry by Jean Yuan and Vickie Fang)

[beansoupisdead]

Lost in wine, I did not notice dusk descending

Petals dropped and piled up on my robe

Drunk, I rise and walk the moonlit valley

The birds have gone, and people too are few.

Self Consolation - Li Po (701-62)