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

Dispelling Sorrow – Du Mu

waterfall-one

Dispelling sorrow

In English, the title,  遣怀, of Du Mu’s poem is often given as Dispelling Sorrow. There are other choices equally as good: Drowning my sorrows or Scattering my sorrows, for example. One could also substitute for the word sorrows: woe, unhappiness, pain, regret, and so on. A longer translation is ‘easing the ache in my heart”.

Whatever title one gives it, the thought is a remembrance of better times.

Dispelling Sorrows

Down on my luck, wandering and drunk
Oh, those slim waisted girls of Chu in the palm of my hand
Ten years gone by, and still I dream of Yangzhou,
Why, even in the blue houses, you said I was fickle.
Sadly, the poem’s meter and rhyme are both lost in translation.

Pinyin (phonetic Chinese)

Luòpòjiānghú zài jiǔ xíng,
Chǔyāo xiānxì zhǎng zhōng qīng.
Shíniān yī jué Yángzhōu mèng,
Yíngdé qīnglóu báo xìng míng.

Chinese characters

杜牧

落魄江湖载酒行
楚腰纤细掌中轻。
十年一觉扬州梦,
赢得青楼薄幸名

French translation, Dissiper la tristesse

Au bord de la rivière, le vin à la main
Rappelant ces filles minces, Si petit qu’ils pouvaient danser dans ma paume.
Dix ans passés, réveillés, À partir d’un rêve Yangzhou,
Où parmi les maisons bleues, J’ai gagné un nom pour la changeabilité

Du Mu, cowboy poet of the Tang dynasty

du_mu-sq-flip

Du Mu and a glass of wine

Du Mu is a late Tang poet whose death occurred about 50 years before the official end of the Tang dynasty.

He joined the imperial civil service at a young age and was assigned to the city of Yangzhou on the Yangtze River. It was “the most prosperous city in the whole world,”  famous for rich merchant families, poets, courtesans, and scholars.  Du Mu’s stay was relatively brief, followed by a succession of posts to minor prefectures, none with much success.

Ten years (十 年) go by. Like Rip Van Winkle, Du Mu wakens as if from a dream.

If we take the poem literally, Du Mu is now 35 years old and down on his luck. He consoles himself with a glass of wine (,  also spirits generally) and reflects on those heavenly days in the blue houses (青楼) of Yangzhou with the slim waisted girls of Chu (楚, the district of Chu, also can mean “pain”).

Why even then, Du Mu recalls he had gained a reputation among the courtesans for fickleness (薄 幸) .

Wine as a motif

Wine is Du Mu’s relief and so, he is often picture with a glass of wine in his hand. Du Mu wrote several poems about drinking. One poem was entitled Drinking Alone, and another  Drunken Sleep.

He died in 852 at the age of 49 in Chang’an, 50 years before the official fall of the Tang dynasty.

Dispelling Sorrow 杜牧

The title of the poem, 杜牧, is often translate as Dispelling Sorrow. Today one might say, drowning my sorrows in drink. Alternate translations: relieving my worries, awakening, and others that don’t make sense. How about washing away my worries with wine?

Du Mu, wine and women

One can imagine Du Mu, mounted on his pony, with his worldly possession packed in his saddle bags, traveling from town to town, trying to fit in, but never quite finding a place to settle down. In his sorrow he takes to spirits and song. Sounds to me like the makings of a country western song.

How about Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton? “I used to spend my nights out in a barroom. Liquor was the only love I’ve known, But you rescued me from reachin’ for the bottom, And brought me back from being too far gone.”

So what’s the difference between Chris Stapleton’s Whiskey and You and Du Mu?

“There’s a bottle on the dresser by your ring. And it’s empty so right now I don’t feel a thing. I’ll be hurting when I wake up on the floor. But I’ll be over it by noon.”

Poetry is the universal language and it speaks to us across time and across cultures.

In the palm of my hand as motif

English has a similar saying – “in the palm of my hand”. The words imply an ability to control another person.

Second line, the Chinese characters 楚腰 (Chǔyāo), Du Mu’s reference is to the Han beauty, Zhao Feiyan, Empress of the Western Empire (16–7 BC), who it is said was so light she could dance in the palm of the emperor’s hand.

“Why do you drink?” asked the girl.
“To forget,” replied the poet.
“Forget what?” inquired the girl, who was now sorry for him.
“Forget that I am a poet,” he confessed, hanging his head.

“Not all who drink are poets,” said the girl.
“Don’t think I don’t know it,” said the poet.

The courtesan replies

Courtesans were not only beautiful but also accomplished in the arts. Yu Xuanji, for example, gives us the woman’s view:

at night, against my pillow,
I weep secret tears
by day, among the flowers,
I hide a broken heart
why, if we can make poets friends
then, should we not take lovers?

River Snow, Liu Zhongyuan

fisherman-2

River Snow, Liu Zhongyuan

River Snow 江雪 (Jiāng Xuě)

A poem by Liu Zhongyuan (Liǔ Zōngyuán 柳宗元).

A frozen landscape among a thousand mountains, so cold all the birds have left and along ten thousand trails  not a single footprint can be found. And yet, in this wintry scene, alone on the river a fisherman, clad in traditional straw cape and hat, is fishing.

Twenty Chinese characters convey the coldness and loneliness of life.

Is the poet the Confucianistic third party observer, or is he the fisherman himself in a Buddhist trance? A third point of view is Taoist, Liu’s attempt to live in harmony with the Way, no matter how harsh circumstances may be.

Exiled to faraway Guangxi, Liu succumbs to life’s vicissitudes at 46.

River Snow

In a thousand mountains (千山) the birds have flown and gone
On ten thousand trails there is no human trace
But one old man on a boat in straw cape and bamboo hat
Fishes alone in the cold river and snow.

Fleuve Neige

Dans mille montagnes  les oiseaux ont volé
Sur dix mille sentiers, il n’y a pas trace humaine
Mais un vieillard seul dans un bateau en paille cape et bambou chapeau
Pêche dans la rivière et neige.

Fluss Schnee

In tausend Berge haben die Vögel geflogen
Auf zehntausend Pfade gibt es keine menschliche Spur
Aber ein alter Mann auf einem Boot im Stroh Umhang und Bambushut
Im kalten Fluss und Schnee allein angeln.

江雪

Jiāng Xuě

千山鳥飛絕
萬徑人蹤滅
孤舟簑笠翁
獨釣寒江雪
Qiān shān niǎo fēi jué
Wàn jìng rén zōng miè
Gū zhōu suō lì wēng
Dú diào hán jiāng xuě

 Notes.

For the sake of convenience, I repeat the traditional title. River Snow. The title seems ambiguous unless one interprets the two characters

江雪

as, on the river in snow. This makes sense in that the poet/philosopher is on the river, his fortunes faded and now, sad and lonely, he finds himself ill-equipped to stay warm.

Alternate title could be – On the River in the Snow, a wordier, but more accurate description of the scene. Or, the slightly less wordy, River in Snow. Some have chosen to translate the title as River Winter, but this makes less sense to me, giving the impression of time rather than emotion.

Line 1. 千山, literally one thousand mountains. The idea of a journey of one thousand miles beginning with a single step is often associated with Confucius. 千里之行,始於足下, literally, a trip of a (千里) a thousand li (里, li, a Chinese mile, about 500 meters) begins with the next step. Laozi, founder of Taoism is the actual author of the line.

Line 2. 萬徑, ten thousand paths or ways, Liu’s nod to Taoism.

Line 3. 孤舟, a solitary boat, or, alone in his boat, a Buddhist point of view. The fisherman/poet is wearing a traditional cape and bamboo hat.

Line 4. The cold lonely fisherman.  Liu himself was banished from the royal court. Here, Liu gives us a double entendre, 寒江 literally the cold river, and a place name for a tributary of the Yangtze, in Shaanxi, where Liu is from.

Twenty Chinese characters convey the coldness and loneliness of life.

 

A Song at the Pass

English, French and Chinese translation of Wang Changling’s poem

On the frontier, a cavalryman pauses at a river crossing to allow his horse to drink. In the dark, dark distance lies the Great Wall at Lintao. It is autumn and already cold. The wind cuts like a sword. The setting sun is not yet gone. The cavalryman’s thoughts return to battles long ago.

王 昌 齡 Wang Changling

A Song at the Pass (Under a Border-fortress)

horse

A song at the pass

Drink deep, my horse, it is autumn as we cross the river

The river is cold, and the wind cuts like a sword
Across the sandy plain, the sun flickers
Far, far faraway lies Lintao
Where at the Great Wall, we once battled day long
With salty high spirits, and hoarse voices
The past and the present are the same Yellow Earth
Bleached bones scattered in bitter sagebrush

Une chanson au passage

Buvez bien, mon cheval, c’est l’automne et nous traversons la rivière,
La rivière c’est froid, le vent coupe comme un couteau
Le sable est de niveau, le soleil était encore dans le ciel
Loin, loin, Lintao est lointain
Où nous nous sommes battus journée sous la Grande Muraille
Esprits élevé bien qu’il parlait sourdement
Ce qui était alors il est poussière jaune
Os blanchis perturbés dans l’armoise amère

塞下曲

飲馬渡秋水
水寒風似刀
平沙日未沒
黯黯見臨洮
昔日長城戰
咸言意氣高
黃塵足今古
白骨亂蓬蒿


Discussion of Wang Changling’s poem

Tang cavalry defeated the Gok Turks in 639, helping the empire to secure peace along the Silk Road, but later battled Tibetan and Mongol armies for control. Perhaps it is this first battle that is recalled and the later battles to be fought that await.

The usual title is Under a Border Fortress, but this seems inaccurate. The Chinese characters  塞 translates stopped or plugged,下  translate as beneath, and the last character 曲 as either song or wrong. The play on characters, Wang’s amusing political commentary.

The soldier and his horse are at a river crossing that serves as the frontier border. He stops to allow his horse to drink. The sun has not yet set, 日未, (third line) and so we know the day’s journey is not over. The cold autumn wind cuts like a sword 刀.

The fourth line begins with the repetition of the Chinese characters 黯黯, literally dark, dark.

Such a lovely choice of characters, like Robert Frost’s “dark and deep” these words work at several levels. The day is not yet dark. What is dark is hidden. Dark are our memories of long ago. Dark and light are the yin and yang of Chinese poetry.

These characters are usually translated as “far, far” implying distance, but that fails greatly.

The adjective is paired with the noun 見, which is the Chinese character for opinion or view. Used as a verb it means to see.

The only specific place-name is Lintao, a far western province at the edge of the Tibetan Plateau along the Silk Route. Tibetan conflicts occurred early in the Tang dynasty and the conflicts favored the Chinese. However, in 763 AD, the Tibetans captured the Chinese capital city of Chang’an during the midst of the Anshi Rebellion.

The fifth line speaks of the battles beneath the Great Wall, 長城 (Changcheng), literally long walls. The Tang Dynasty did not resort to extending the walls already built, but to warfare as a means of protecting the empire. There were battles far to the west at Lintao with the Tibetan empire and with the Mongols to the north in the Yin Mountains. The poet gives the specific place name of Lintao, but does not name his present location.

Sixth line. Then the soldier’s salty spirits were high.

Seventh line. 黃塵, Yellow Dust, a metaphor for earth.The drying bleached bones of dead soldiers make up the Yellow Earth. The sagebrush that grow there is bitter and so is the memory. The character 蒿 is wormwood. It may also be a reference to Chrysanthemum tea, which is an herbal remedy for a sore throat. Some translators substitute the less hardy herb “basil,” a thickener for soup, which is another good metaphor.

An allusion to the Yellow River, the mother river of China, which produced huge amounts of “yellow” loess sediment.

Or, the Yellow Dust, also called Asian Dust, a sulfuric mixture that rises from the Mongolian and Tibetan plains and falls on China.

wang-changling

Wang Chengling

The poet Wang Chengling leaves us with many unanswered questions. Who is the warrior poet who composes these words at the river. Where is he headed? Is he one of many or alone?

Is Tang poetry relevant today?

Listen to the lyrics of two very different pop culture songs, A Horse with No Name by America, or Leon Russell’s This Song is for You, and draw your own conclusions.

A man and a horse, crossing the desert or a river, memories, and a song for you, all universal motifs. We are not so distant in time and culture that the far, far hills of Lintao can’t be summoned quickly to mind.

Gazing at the Mountain

Arnold Schwarzenegger said, “You can’t climb the ladder of success with your hands in your pocket.” I like that. It takes hard work, one rung at a time, and sometimes, one needs to grab the foot that is just ahead and give it a yank.

 

A young Chinese scholar is about to take his imperial examinations. The future depends on it and he is jittery. Success is not a sure. In some years no students were passed, and Du Fu was in this group.

Wang Yue, “Gazing at the Mountain,” is one of Du Fu’s earliest poems.

It was written in 735 or 736 close in time to when Du Fu took his Jinshu examinations. As part of the examination, the candidate submitted a poem. There is no evidence for it, but this might have been the poem submitted by Du Fu. To “gaze at the mountain” is a metaphor for the challenge that stood before Du Fu. Success the goal and from the summit he could look down upon the thousands of others waiting their turn.

Is it optimism he expresses or the bravado of youth? Or is it the Greek quality of hubris that inevitably lead to defeat and downfall? Du Fu would fail his examination and his claim as one of finest poets of the Tang dynasties would take time.

Mount Tai or Tai’shen is a sacred mountain and UNESCO World Heritage Site. The long winding stairway to the summit and the Temple to the God of Taishan and from the Azure Cloud Temple is a famous pathway.

mt-tai-poster

Mt Tai

Gazing at the mountain

Preparing to climb Mt. Tai

Zhao and Jiang all around me a distant blue

The God of Time bestows Good fortune  and

Yin and Yang are balanced as the light of dawn

I bare my breast at the layers of clouds

From the corner of my eye to catch the sight of flying birds

On my struggle to reach the top

And see all the small hills in one glance?

There are other translations. There always are. Often they differ in word and meaning, revealing our difficulties in understanding the voice of another human being from different culture and time.

Daniel Hsieh of Purdue University has given us his interpretation. Another one by All Poetry perhaps, better catches the poet’s meaning. I repeat it, for educational purposes.

For all this, what is the mountain god like?
An unending green of lands north and south:
From ethereal beauty Creation distills
There, yin and yang split dusk and dawn.

Swelling clouds sweep by. Returning birds
Ruin my eyes vanishing. One day soon,
At the summit, the other mountains will be
Small enough to hold, all in a single glance.

望 岳

岱 宗 夫 如 何

齐 鲁 青 未 了

造 化 钟 神 秀

阴 阳 割 昏 晓

荡 胸 生 层 云

决 眦 入 归 鸟

会 当 凌 绝 顶

一 览 众 山 小

fuchun

Life’s illusion

the-three-gorges-2

Lost in Translation

Beware of translations. They often miss the meaning of the words. But the greater sorrow is that they do they convey the sense of rhyme and meter. So too with this poem by poet Du Mu, which is often translated as Dispelling Sorrow, but whose literal meaning is The Awakening.

The Awakening

What little we know here is that an older Du Mu (遣 怀) is recalling his heavenly days with the girls of Chu in Yangzhou. Ten years later he awakes to these thoughts with a bottle of wine and little else to show.

杜牧 The Awakening
落魄江湖载酒行,

楚腰纤细掌中轻

十年一觉扬州梦

赢得青楼薄幸名

Down on my luck, wine in hand…

Oh, those slim girls of Chu,

So tiny they could dance in the my palm of my hand.

Ten years later and I waken from a dream of Yangzhou,

among the corteseans, I was capricious.

 

Yangzhou

Yangzhou (扬 州), which lies on the north side of the Yangtze, was one of the wealthiest cities in China, famous for its merchants, poets, beautiful women, and scholars. During the An Lushan Rebellion, it was the scene of a massacre of foreign merchants.

Dispelling Sorrow

遣怀

These two characters are usually translated as “dispelling sorrow”. Literally, the letters translate as waking up. Other translations include, My lament and My confession. I suppose any of them work. The author is after all a Rip Van Winkle character, awaking from a dream with only a memory and a sorry reputation. So, with that in mind I give it the title, Life’s Illusion.

Courtesans in China

I refer to a Chinese house of prostitution as a “blue” house. 青 is the Chinese character and may mean blue or green, or bluish green. 青楼 is a greenish-blue house. I suspect, without certainty, that Du Mu is referencing “nature’s color” along with “youth” and “passion”.

“Prostitute” is not an accurate translation, “courtesan” is closer to the mark.

One should be mindful that a Tang prostitute was often held in high regard.  This is not a brothel as we understand it.  Living quarters contained spacious halls with exquisite furnishings, and grounds with artificial hills and ponds.  Therefore, a young man might consider himself as being in paradise.

Why, there were even Tang poets who were courtesans.

it is easier to find the rarest treasure
than to love for our own pleasure
by day, we weep our secret tears
among the flowers, we hide our breaking hearts
and if we can have great poets for friends
should we also long for handsome lovers?
Yu Xuan Ji

Note. I will come back to this poem a month from now. The meaning will in all likelihood be entirely different. This is not a comment on the finality of poetry, but rather its ephemeral nature, and beauty.

Garden of the Golden Valley of Shi Chong

 

 

The Golden Valley near Lyoung, was where Emperor Wu’s wealthy offical, Shi Chong had his luxurious villa in the midst of “clear springs and verdant woods”. Life is impermanent, and political disaster descended upon Shi Chong’s paradise. Green Pearl, his favorite concubine, threw herself from a tower.

Du Mu wrote this quatrain 500 years later.

 

winding-river

金谷园
The Garden of the Golden Valley

杜牧
Du Mu

繁华事散逐香尘,
流水无情草自春

日暮东风怨啼鸟,
落花犹似坠楼人

A. C. Graham has given us the sense of Du Mu’s poem set in paradise – a tragic death, love lost, time passing, and beauty fading into dust. I repeat his words here with a few changes:

Scattered pomp has turned to scented dust
Streaming waters know no care, grass spreads and claims spring as its own
At sunset, an East Wind carries the sound of crying birds
Petals on the ground are her likeness still, beneath the tower where she fell

Original translation by A. C. Graham

Others have given different interpretations, suggesting that it is glory that fades, or prosperity that does not last, or sweet love too soon turned to dust.

The Chinese characters 繁华 suggest a sense of bustling prosperity and Shi Chong was certainly one of the most prosperous men of his time who took pleasure in displaying his wealth to others. This in time is scattered 散 like fragrant dust, 香尘. Metaphors make for powerful images. The character 香 may be translated as a joss stick, and 尘 as dust. So we have the image of something sweet and beautiful now become perfumed ashes.

Life continues on.

The rivers flow to the sea, the grasses reclaim what was once a garden. At twilight 日暮 an East Wind 东风 blows. The symbolism of the East Wind is not lost on Du Mu. It is the harbinger of spring, but it is also the idea of something that is perfect in all aspects but for one thing. Du Mu’s perfect garden was lost because of his political association and the enemies he made along the way.

On his way to execution, Shi Chong remarked that it was his wealth others sought, not his love of Green Pearl. He was then asked, if knowing this, why had he not given away his wealth?

The most powerful metaphor remains, the beautiful Green Pearl lying beneath the tower wall, like the fallen petals of a flower 落花.

Orchid and Orange 1

感 遇 其

Orchid and Orange I, by Zhang Jiuling.

Would you think that a forest-hermit, well-content with the beauty of his home, would favor less a natural setting than a forest-orchid?

I will begin with the caveat that all translations are inherently suspect, including this one.

I begin with the title of the poem, Orchid and Orange.

Some one seems to have settled on this because of assonance and not for literary accuracy.  Zhang Jiuling’s title is 感 遇 其, which comes out something like, “the sense (feeling) of it”. Perhaps we have ended up with Orchid and Orange because of the comparison in the first two lines between two plants, one cultivated for its beauty, the other natural in its cultivation, but none the less beautiful. For that matter, the title could have been, Orchid and Osmanthus, a bit obscure, better yet, Cymbidium and Osmanthus, which makes it sound like two Greek words, which in fact they are, and points out why translations are suspect.

蘭 (Lán), the orchid, or precisely Cymbidium, a particular variety of orchid that is much prized and cultivated.

桂 (Gui), the Osmanthus, a bush or small tree, none variety of which has orange blossoms, but others are bright white.

Zhang Juiling

The Confucian Zhang Juiling (678–740) was a member of the Chinese literati class, with its hierarchy and system of advancements, primarily by examination, but also by means of court favor. For purposes of the poem the literati should be compared with the ascetic  Confucian hermits who were by definition loners living in the mountains and forests.

Zhang Juiling was for a period commandant of the city of Guilin, famous for its fragrant flowering Osmanthus and as a destination for Buddhist monks in pursuit of enlightenment.

The phonetic similarity of the Guilin and Juiling is a fitting coincidence.

Zhang was a blunt and out-spoken advisor to the emperor. When asked about what to do with the captured rebel An Lushan, Zhang favored execution. The emperor disagreed and eventually demoted Zhang from his post. A new rebellion ensued, the emperor fled to the mountains of Sichuan and passed the throne to his son. The new emperor remembering Zhang’s advice and warnings, honored him posthumously.

orchid-orange

I admit that this Tang poem is beyond my ability to translate Chinese into English. The prevalent translation of Zhang Jiuling’s poem is:

ORCHID AND ORANGE I

Tender orchid-leaves in spring
And cinnamon-blossoms bright in autumn
Are as self-contained as life is,
Which conforms them to the seasons.
Yet why will you think that a forest-hermit,
Allured by sweet winds and contented with beauty,
Would no more ask to-be transplanted
Than Would any other natural flower?

Original Chinese.

 

 桂 Osmanthus and 蘭 Cymbidium

桂 (Gui), Osmanthus blooms in August, a bush or small tree that is cultivated in pots, and a symbol of love and romance. Osmanthus is also known as sweet osmanthus, sweet olive, tea olive. Its tiny bright flowers range in color from white to orange. Gui has a double meaning, referring also to expensive or valued, and to a clan of former rulers. There is a well-known city called Guilin which means “fragrant forest”, referring to its many fragrant Osmanthus trees. Guilin was a destination for Buddhist monks.

桂 華 秋 皎 潔

Osmanthus flower in autumn blooms bright

By contrast, 蘭 (Lán), Cymbidium is a large orchid that blossoms in spring in an array of colors. It is a symbol of the horticulturalist’s virtuosity and a dream to propagate.

蘭 葉 春 葳 蕤

Cymbidium verdant in spring is luxuriant with blooms

So what do I come up with?

A cymbidium, so luxuriant in spring as the
Sweet olive which blossoms bright in autumn
Each as self-contained as life,
Which keeps to its season.
So why do you think that a forest-hermit,
Seduced by sweet winds and surrounded with beauty,
Would wish to be displaced
More so than any other forest-flower?

Can one truly get a sense of the feeling of nature? Would one who enjoys the forest and nature want to be transplanted to the city?

Will I come back to this? Or will I enjoy the beauty of the blossom and leave it at that? Some thoughts are ineffable.

Could it be the thought is nothing more than this:

Would you think that a forest-hermit, well-content with the beauty of his home, would favor less a natural setting than a forest-orchid?

And for fun let’s say it in French:

 Pense-tu qu’un ermite de forêt, bien content de la beauté de sa gîte, favoriserait moins un cadre naturel qu’une orchidée de forêt?

Cold Thoughts

In middle earth (Kansas), the temperature is minus 12 degrees Celsius. The sun is rising in the east, but clouds overhead make for a grey and cold day. The night before was clear and the Milky Way hung low in the sky, making a pathway for my thoughts to rise to the heavens.

milky-way

A good day for an English translation of 涼 思 by Li Shangyin:

Cold Thoughts, by Li Shangyin.

客 去 波 平 檻

蟬 休 露 滿 枝

永 懷 當 此 節

倚 立 自 移 時

北 斗 兼 春 遠

南 陵 寓 使 遲

天 涯 占 夢 數

疑  誤  有  新 知

You are gone, at my door the river rises.
Cicadas are thick on dew-laden boughs.
This moment when deep thoughts arise.
I exist alone for a while.
The North Star is far and so is spring,
And your letters from the south never arrive
From the end of the earth regard this dream
Perhaps, you have found another friend.

French translation of Cold Thoughts by Li Shangyi.

Pensées froides

Tu es partie, à ma porte la rivière monte
Les cigales riche de rosée sur les branches sont épaisses
Ce moment où des pensées profondes paraîtent
Pendant un moment seul, j’existe.
L’étoile du Nord comme le printemps est loin
Et vos lettres de sud n’arrivent jamais
À la fin de la terre, je rêve
Peut-être, vous avez trouvé un autre ami

Notes.

The title of the poem in English is often given as Thoughts in the Cold.

The river is the Wei, which flows by Chang’an, the capital of the Tang dynasty. The cicadas secrete a liquid which the Chinese referred to as “dew”. Li Shangyin refers to 北 斗 , (Běi dòu) the Big Bucket (Big Dipper) rather than the North Star to keep up the water allusion. I also wonder if this is not a double entendre, for “struggle” in the north, The Tang dynasty’s fight with the Tibetans and other rebels. 斗 may translate as fight or struggle. Literally, the northern dipper (bucket) or struggle.

天 涯 , the end of the world is also rich in meaning, and that his dreams may be suggestive is an understatement. 

The successful suppression of the An Lushan Rebellion by the Tang dynasty did not end the role of the rebels in the south of the kingdom, nor did it end the threat from the Tibetans in the north.

Drinking Alone beneath the Moon

moon-2

li-bai-shadow

Li Bai*

Li Bai (701 – 762) was friends with Du Fu, but on this night when he composed this poem he was alone with a pot of wine; for companions he had the moon, his shadow and his thoughts.

There is a story, there always is, that Li Bai, glass of wine in hand, drowned in a river when he tried to embrace the moon’s reflection. Some say the river was the Yangtze, the mother river of China. Some say he went to keep his appointment with the moon and the stars.

Some say Li Bai died at home in bed in Anlu (now in Hubei province).

月下獨酌

One could translate the title of Li Bai’s poem variously as Drinking alone beneath the Moon or Under the Moon Alone and Pouring Wine. The latter is a more literal translation. I say “more” literal in the sense that all translations are imperfect. The pouring and drinking of wine is also a deliberate act in which one considers and ponders the mysteries of the world.

Moon

Under

Alone

Pouring Wine  (“literally” wine pouring, drinking, considering, deliberating)

DRINKING ALONE BENEATH THE MOON

Between the flowers from a pot of spirits
I drink alone. There is no one with me
Till, I raise my cup inviting the moon
To bring my shadow and make us three.
The moon, alas, can not drink
So my shadow only drinks with me;
But still for a while I have these friends
Happy that it must be Spring
I sing while the moon wanders off.
I dance. My shadow becomes disorderly
Awake from time to time we bosom three
Until I get drunk, and so, we lose each other
And this never ending wandering passion
Expecting to meet them at a distant time in the Cloudy Stars.

I feel my translation trails off the path in the middle and is lost in the brush at the end.

Take for instance, the second to last line

永結無情遊,

The first three characters:

永結無

may translate as “never ending” or “neverending” if one treats it as an adjective modifying,

an emotion that extends from love to passion and borders on kindness

comes out as “tour” but one could also choose wander, travel, …

The cloudy stars could be the Milky Way, but that would not be true to the Chinese.

moon-lia-bai

  • image of Li Bai, Encyclopedia Britannica, original image of the moon, Pixabay