Clearing Rain by Du Fu

In Kansas, half way though June. Summer is not yet here, but the day time temperatures already approach 100 degrees.

Last night a violent storm blew out of the west. The news reporters spoke of straight-line winds approaching 90 miles an hour. Tree limbs fell and cars and trucks were blown off the highway. But, it rained and the farmers are grateful; for a long rain means the knee-high corn will survive the coming summer season.

In another time and place, Chinese poet Du Fu watched a similar storm and wrote a poem the following day.

lightning-2

The rain clears
(One becomes less angry in autumn)

The rain fell and the autumn clouds are thin,
The western wind has blown ten thousand li.
The morning view is good and fine,
A long rain has not hurt the land.
The willow’s leaves are turning emerald green,
On a distant hill a pear tree blazes red.
Upstairs, a flute plays,
And outside, a goose flies in the sky.

Original Chinese

雨晴
(一作秋霁)

天水秋云薄
从西万里风
今朝好晴景
久雨不妨农
塞柳行疏翠
山梨结小红
胡笳楼上发
一雁入高空

Meaning of Du Fu’s Clearing Rain

In the summer of 759, Du Fu spent about six weeks in the city of Tianshui (天水) where he wrote this poem.

Du Fu had survived the worst of the rebellion. Captured by the rebels in 756, he escaped the following year and rejoined the emperor in the south. The emperor forces recaptured the capital Chang’an. Du Fu was accused of treason for remaining behind, but cleared of the charges. Back in the emperor’s good graces he received a post as Commissioner of Education in Huazhou, which was not to his liking. It was then, in the summer of 759, that he moved on to Tianshui where he spent a short six weeks and wrote over sixty poems.

The first two Chinese characters of Du Fu’s poem translate as “sky” and “water” or combined as “rain”. The two characters also name the city Tianshui where this poem was written.

Making sense of Du Fu’s poem:

It is now the autumn of my life.

It rained last night. The skies have cleared leaving behind only a few clouds. The western wind which once overpowered the east wind has blown ten thousand miles away. The long rain has not destroyed the country. The leaves of the willow trees, though sparse, are still green. On a distant hill the leaves of a pear tree blaze red. The wars though distant still consume lives. Somewhere in the house, a single flute plays its mournful tune and above a goose flies away.

To be continued…

Back in Kansas

The morning after the storm, a cup of coffee in hand, I go outside on my back porch and survey the damage. A few weak branches have fallen from the oak tree that towers above and green leaves are scattered about. The robins are busily gathering up worms.

Inside, on the television news reporters talk of nothing but tweets.

French translation

La pluie est tombée et les nuages d’automne sont peu,
Le vent de l’ouest a soufflé dix mille li.
La matin est bonne et bien,
Une longue pluie n’a pas blessé la terre.
Les feuilles du saut tournent vert émeraude
Sur une colline éloignée, une poire flambe rouge.
Une flûte joue en haut,
Et une oie flotte sur le vent.

Jetzt auf deutsch, German translation

Der Regen fiel und die Herbstwolken sind dünn,
Der westliche wind hat zehntausend li geblasen
Die Morgenansicht ist sehr gut,
Ein langer Regen hat das Land nicht verletzt.
Die Blätter der Weide machen Smaragdgrün,
Auf einem fernen Hügel bricht ein Birnbaum rot.
Eine Flöte spielt oben,
Und eine Gans fliegt in den Himmel.

Spring Night Rain

Poem for a rainy day

It rained all last night here in Oz, it is raining now and will rain all day, and tomorrow. This is unusual. Here the rain falls occasionally and sometimes not at all, but when it falls it is always welcome.

Du Fu’s poem, 春夜喜雨, is variously translated as Spring Night Rain, or Welcome Rain on a Spring Night, or Delight taken in a Spring Night Rain. The simple thought is  – at night the spring rain is delightful, the sound soothing, the smell redolent of earth and life. The poem’s words remind me of Lerner and Lowe’s description of King Arthur’s Camelot where “the rains may never fall till after sundown,” but the circumstances in Du Fu’s poem not so lovely, as I will explain later.

 

rain-boat-crop

Zha Shibiao, Man on a boat in rain, detail (1615–1698)

English translation

Spring Night Rain

A good rain knows, it is spring
When wind-borne, it steals silently in the night
And wets all things, yet
Wild is the way the dark black clouds
Leave the river boat fires lit
And, at dawn reveal
Chengdu blossoming splendidly

du-fu

Du Fu

Note. 花重 Chegndu, literally the official city and capital of Sichuan province, where the emperor fled to during the An Lushan Rebellion (In China, An-Shi Rebellion).

Du Fu was captured by rebel forces, and after a year behind rebel lines, managed to make his escape and join the emperor in Chengdu. For the remainder of the rebellion, Du Fu lived there and wrote poetry in a thatched cottage next to the Flower Rinsing Creek.

Francais

Au printemps, il pleut plus à la nuit

Une bonne pluie connaît la saison
Quand le printemps arrive
À vent, il vole silencieusement dans la nuit
Et mouille tout, encore
Furieux la façon que les nuages noirs et sombres
Laissez les feux de bateaux de la rivière brûler
Et à l’aube révèle
La ville s’épanouir splendidement

German

Ein guter regen kennt die Saison
Wenn der Frühling stattfindet
Wenn der Nachtwind kommt, stiehlt er leise
Und benutze alle Dinge, noch
Wild ist die Art und Weise,
Wie die dunklen schwarzen Wolken
Lassen die Flussboot Feuer verbrennen
Und in der Morgendämmerung offenbart
Chengdu zu blühen herrlich und wunderbar

Chinese

好雨知时节
当春乃发生
随风潜入夜
润物细无声
野径云俱黑
江船火独明
晓看红湿处
花重锦官城

rain-boat

Zha Shibiao, Man on a boat in rain (1615–1698)

Spring Dawn

As Poet Meng Haoran observes in four lines of five characters each, some years Spring is late to arrive.

The earth is cold and the blossoms on the branches fail to bloom. Crows darken the sky; their stink fills the air. At night, nothing is heard but the sound of wind and rain; in the morning flowers rot on the ground.

Spring Dawn

Spring sleeps, I do not think it’s dawn
The air stinks and crows cry
Last night there was nothing but
The sound of wind and rain and
Where the flower blossoms fell, what’s left?

Francais

L’aube du printemps

Au printemps, je dors, je sais que le jour ne commence.
Des corbeaux puants pleurer partout et
Toute la nuit, j’ai entendu le son du vent et pluie, quand
Le prochaine matin, qui sait combien de fleurs sont tombées.

Original Chinese

春晓

春眠不觉晓
处处闻啼鸟
夜来风雨声
花落知多少

raindrops-on-branch

The Dawn of Spring, Meng Haoran

Meng did it in 20 characters. Not counting articles, prepositions, and conjunctions, I am close.

Sunrise and Spring sleeps .
The morning stinks as crows cry
In the night, there is nothing
But wind and rain while
Blossoms fall from the trees

Meng Haoran was not a successful civil servant. He remained close to home, living off the wealth of his land owning parents, and contenting himself with drink, friendship, and poetry, most of which dealt with the natural world.

“Does Spring sleep still?” Meng Haoran asks and concludes perhaps.

Now, gentle reader, may I momentarily divert?  Rachel Carson wrote in Silent Spring that, “There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature – the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.” The cycles of seasons are refreshing.

Or, as Meng meant.

All night long, it rained, accompanied by a drum-like sound and pungent smell of  flowering rattan 夜来 . One could not breathe nor sleep. If this is not punishment enough, flocks crows (啼) gathered and added their sound and stink to nature’s mournful symphony.

When morning come, will the blossoms survive?

English Translation

Most English translation translations present spring in a kinder light.

“Spring sleeps, at dawn I do not wake
All around I hear birds cry
Night falls to the sound of wind and rain
While flowers fall and few remain”

The title is Spring Dawn, 春晓. An old proverb goes, the wise man sees one word and hears two. Does Meng speak of the dawn of spring or waking one spring morn?

The crows both stink and cry,  闻 啼 鸟, but the sense of smell 闻 is gone and we are left with bird is 鸟 that cry 啼, aka the foul smelly crow.

I recall an early morning in Bruges, Belgium. I would get up early to go for a run, delighted that it was raining. Disturbed by the weather, the crows would gather in city parks. The sound and stench was something out of a horror film. Combine the sound and fury with the thick white globs the defecating birds left and one has the beginnings of a movie, The Blob of Bruges.

Meng begins the third line begins with 夜来, night falls. It is also the Chinese word for Rattan, a vine we use in furniture making, but which has a night blooming flower that stinks. One could say, look beyond the words to find the meaning; this is the essence of good Tang poetry.

blossom-bird