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larryhammerETA (Aug '22): With a couple more years of experience, I've gone back through these translations and found problems with most of them -- as in, major gaps in basic understanding in 70-80% of the poems. Please treat these as early, unreliable drafts.
Sometime in the 740s, friends Wang Wei and Pei Di collaborated on a poetry sequence, the Wangchuan Collection (辋川集). It consists of paired poems named after twenty locations on Wang’s estate, Wangchuan (“wheel-rim river”), 30 miles south of the capital Chang’an. The collection itself and landscape paintings based on the scenes (Wang was at least as well known as a painter as poet) were deeply influential through later centuries. Wang was interested in Buddhism, and his half of the collection is often cited as an example of Buddhist (sometimes especially Zen) poetry.
I translated two of Wang’s poems as part of 300 Tang Poems, but I was curious about the sequence as a whole, especially how the call-and-response and progression worked. But I haven’t been able to find a complete translation—just of Wang’s half, by multiple hands. So I did it myself.
For each pair, the first quatrain is Wang’s, followed by Pei’s response—though that statement requires a serious caveat. We don’t know how the collection was composed, aside from Wang’s claim in the preface that each poem was written in the location of the title. As received, there’s something of an organization in Wang’s poems, but not Pei’s, which jump all over the place in tone and content. On the other hand, it pretty clearly reads to me that often Pei’s poem responds to (and sometimes mocks) Wang’s, and never the other way around. My reading is that a) for each pair, Wang wrote his poem first, followed by Pei, and b) Wang sequenced the collection after the poems were written, by way of bringing out recurring themes present in his poems. (FWIW, most scholars agree with a), while the jury is out on b)—the organization is subtle and not all agree that there is one.)
Place names are generally translated only when the meaning is relevant in a poem, to avoid the Lady-Plum-Blossom effect. Pei’s poems are indented to make the change of author more clear.
Preface
Having left my official position, I resided in Wangchuan Ravine. There, together with Pei Di in our leisure, we rambled around, pausing at Eldest-Town Gap, Hauzi Ridge, Gingko Lodge, Clear-Bamboo Ridge, Deer Enclosure, Magnolia Enclosure, Dogwood Streambank, Scholartree Lane, Lakeside Pavilion, South Cottage, Yi Lake, Willow Waves, Luanjia Rapids, Golddust Spring, Whiterock Shoal, North Cottage, Bamboo Lodge, Magnolia Bank, Lacquer Grove, Pepper Grove, and so on, and at each we recited a quatrain, thus:
序
余别业在辋川山谷，其游止有孟城坳、华子冈、文杏馆、斤竹岭、鹿柴、木兰柴、茱萸泮、宫槐陌、临湖亭、南垞、欹湖、柳浪、栾家濑、金屑泉、白石滩、北垞、竹里馆、辛夷坞、漆园、椒园等，与裴迪闲暇，各赋绝句云尔。
1. Meng Town Gap
New house in a gap of Meng Town’s wall:
Old trees remain, all dying willows.
People to come—what will they have?
Empty sorrow for those of the past.
Hut built beneath an ancient town—
Time stepped upon the ancient town.
Wasn’t the ancient town once farmland?
Of course new people come and go.
孟城坳
新家孟城口，
古木余衰柳。
来者复为谁，
空悲昔人有。
结庐古城下，
时登古城上。
古城非畴昔，
今人自来往。
A new residence, and Wang sees in it a melancholy reminder of the faded past. The gap is in the former town wall. Pei plays with literal meaning eldest of the place-name (孟: mèng) by altering it to ancient.
2. Huazi Ridge
Birds flying endlessly away,
Mountain on mountain of autumn colors.
Ascending, descending Huazi Ridge—
When will this melancholy end?
Sun sets, wind rises in the pines;
Returning home, dew’s dried in the grass.
With clouds alight, I tread on footprints;
In green hills, brush off this one’s clothes.
华子冈
飞鸟去不穷，
连山复秋色。
上下华子冈，
惆怅情何极。
落日松风起，
还家草露晞。
云光侵履迹，
山翠拂人衣。
The orthodox Buddhist reaction to the fading of autumn is melancholy because it’s a reminder that we too shall fade. Wang comes returns to this thought later.
3. Ginkgo Lodge
Cut gingko wood for the roof-beam,
Knotted fragrant thatch for eaves.
It’s unknown if clouds inside the ridgepole
Will go make rain among the people.
Far, far away from Gingko Lodge,
The sun already has arisen.
South range together with north lake:
Ahead’s the same as looking back.
文杏馆
文杏裁为梁，
香茅结为宇。
不知栋里云，
去作人间雨。
迢迢文杏馆，
跻攀日已屡。
南岭与北湖，
前看复回顾。
After framing the collection with two reminders of the passing of things of this world, Wang has a more local meditation. Ginkgo was valued as a fine hardwood for construction.
4. Clear-Bamboo Ridge
Hardwoods reflected in empty winding:
Blue-green waters ripple and swirl.
I secretly enter Shang Mountain path—
Even the woodcutters do not know.
A clear stream that’s both twisting and straight,
Green bamboo thick as well as deep.
One track goes through, a mountain path:
Singing, I walk towards the worn hill.
斤竹岭
檀栾暎空曲，
青翠漾涟漪。
暗入商山路，
樵人不可知。
明流纡且直，
绿篠密复深。
一径通山路，
行歌望旧岑。
The hardwoods are named sandalwood and goldenrain. Wang’s 曲 winding can also mean song, which Pei plays off of using a synonym to undercut the secret sneaking. He also plays off the place name, using synonyms for both clear and bamboo.
5. Deer Enclosure
Empty mountain—I don’t see anyone,
But hear the sound of someone’s voice.
Light returns to the deep forest,
Reflected up from the green moss.
I see at sunset the cold mountain—
It’s easy to be a lone guest leaving.
I don’t know what’s in the deep forest,
But here’s the hoof-prints of a roebuck.
鹿柴
空山不见人，
但闻人语响。
返景入深林，
复照青苔上。
日夕见寒山，
便为独往客。
不知深林事，
但有麏麚迹。
Having set out for the mountains, here we are. The title is literally deer wooden-fence, generally understood as some sort of deer park. The light of Wang’s setting sun is sometimes taken as a reference to Amida Buddha; whether it is shining “on” or “up from” the moss is hotly debated (the alternative last line would be “Shines again on the green moss”).
6. Magnolia Enclosure
The autumn hills block the last light:
Birds fly after their former companions.
Deep emerald blues, at times distinct—
The evening mists have no place to stay.
Dark, dark blue at sunset time:
Bird calls mix with the mountain stream.
Follow that stream—the path turns far.
Darkness rises—so when to stop?
木兰柴
秋山敛余照，
飞鸟逐前侣。
彩翠时分明，
夕岚无处所。
苍苍落日时，
鸟声乱谿水。
缘谿路转深，
幽兴何时已。
7. Dogwood Streambank
With berries red as well as green,
Like flowers blossoming again:
Should a guest stop within the mountains,
I could use these dogwood cups.
The scent of the wind a confusion of spices,
Cloth leaves in gaps between the hardwoods.
Overcast—though the light will return,
The forest sinks as if naturally cold.
茱萸沜
结实红且绿，
复如花更开。
山中傥留客，
置此茱萸杯。
飘香乱椒桂，
布叶间檀栾。
云日虽回照，
森沈犹自寒。
The dogwood is the Chinese cornel dogwood (Cornus officinalis), which Pei deliberately confuses with a kind of pepper-tree (specifically, an ailanthus-like prickly-ash, Zanthoxylum ailanthoides) commonly known in Chinese as “edible dogwood” because of its similar berries. Pei’s hardwoods are the same as in Wang’s #4.
8. Scholartree Lane
A side-path sheltered by scholar trees—
Secluded, dark, with many green mosses.
The gatekeeper’s focused on his sweeping,
Worried a mountain monk might come.
The gate in front of Scholartree Lane
Faces straight towards Yi Lake Road.
Come autumn’s frequent mountain rains,
There’s none to sweep the fallen leaves.
宫槐陌
仄迳荫宫槐，
幽阴多绿苔。
应门但迎埽，
畏有山僧来。
门前宫槐陌，
是向欹湖道。
秋来山雨多，
落叶无人扫。
After a first intimation of a guest arriving, Wang brings the possibility up again. The scholar tree, also called pagoda tree, is a kind of locust. It reads to me that Pei is gently critiquing Wang for fancifully adding a non-existent gatekeeper, but that’s a very tentative reading.
9. Lakeside Pavilion
My light boat greets an immortal guest
Coming leisurely over the lake.
We face out windows with paired wine cups
While all around the lotuses bloom.
We face out windows: broad waters swirl—
The lone high moon circles like sleeves.
The sound of apes comes from the valley:
Borne on the wind, it enters the door.
临湖亭
轻舸迎仙客，
悠悠湖上来。
当轩对尊酒，
四面芙蓉开。
当轩弥滉漾，
孤月正裴回。
谷口猨声发，
风传入户来。
Wang’s intimated guest arrives at the aforementioned lake, where we’ll spend the next couple poems. The pavilion is the sort set in the middle of the waters, rather than literally on the bank, and in Wang’s second couplet the action has moved inside it. More puzzling are the non-autumnal lotuses and the sudden monkeys.
10. South Cottage
My light skiff departs South Cottage:
North Cottage is hard to reach by water.
I gaze at homes on the distant shore—
So far, we can’t discern each other’s.
My lone boat’s truly at its mooring
On the lake-bank by South Cottage.
The setting sun goes down in Yanzi;
Soft waves die out, spread on the waters.
南垞
轻舟南垞去，
北垞淼难即。
隔浦望人家，
遥遥不相识。
孤舟信一泊，
南垞湖水岸。
落日下崦嵫，
清波殊淼漫。
Hints of the eventual departure of the friend. Wang’s last line can also be understood as “I can't discern my own.” Yanzi is a mountain in modern Gansu with a cave the setting sun supposedly disappears into.
11. Yi Lake
Playing flutes, we cross to the far shore:
As the day ends, I see you off.
Upon the lake, a turn of the head—
White clouds are curling round green mountains.
The sky is wide, lake waters broad—
Blue shimmers: heaven’s color’s the same.
As I moor my boat, one long howl:
From all around the clear wind comes.
欹湖
吹箫凌极浦，
日暮送夫君。
湖上一回首，
青山卷白云。
空阔湖水广，
青荧天色同。
舣舟一长啸，
四面来清风。
As anticipated, Wang’s friend (addressed with a term of respect for a male friend) departs. The flute is a xiāo (箫), which can be any of several types of end-blown bamboo flute, both fingered and collected like panpipes. The sound in Pei’s line 3 (啸: xiào) is an ambiguous word, encompassing anything along the lines of howl, sigh, whistle, hiss, or sing. Given the apes in Pei’s #9, I’m going with howl, though Wang’s flutes and the wind itself are also possibilities.
12. Willow Waves
Beautiful trees separately gathered:
Inverted images in clear ripples.
They didn’t learn from the royal moat—
Those sadden on parting in spring winds.
The water’s reflections appear as one—
A puff, and they scatter like silk threads.
Joined shadows already have the earth:
Who evades time in that clay house?
柳浪
分行接绮树，
倒影入清漪。
不学御沟上，
春风伤别离。
映池同一色，
逐吹散如丝。
结阴既得地，
何谢陶家时。
Still at the lake. In his last line, Wang is apparently making a contrast with the current autumn season. Because willow (柳: modern pronunciation liǔ) sounds like stay (留: modern liú), it was the custom when seeing someone off to give the departer a willow branch. The pedestrian walkway on the bank of the moat around the imperial palace in Chang’an was planted with willows, and so was a site for many farewells during the season of official postings. Pei seems to be saying, “Sadness upon parting? I’ll give you a reason to be sad.”
13. Luanjia Rapids
Sa sa amid autumn rain,
The shallows flood across the rocks.
The leaping waves splash up together—
An egret starts, then settles back.
The rapids roar at the far bank:
I follow the ford to the south crossing.
The floating gulls and ducks come over,
Time after time, to be near people.
栾家濑
飒飒秋雨中，
浅浅石溜泻。
跳波自相溅，
白鹭惊复下。
濑声喧极浦，
沿涉向南津。
泛泛鸥凫渡，
时时欲近人。
Wang’s water goes down, then across, then up, but the egret goes up and down—he’s starting to achieve some measure of peace after his friend’s departure, mirrored in the bird. Pei’s birds, on the other hand, are more directly responsive to their observer.
14. Golddust Spring
Drink daily from this Golddust Spring:
Stay young for more than a thousand years.
Green phoenix guarding the patterned dragon—
Feather adorned, attend the Jade Emperor.
Winding and still, clear and unflowing:
Gold, jade—as if you can gather them.
Greeting the dawn, I drank pure splendor—
My sole affair, my morning draft.
金屑泉
日饮金屑泉，
少当千余岁。
翠凤翊文螭，
羽节朝玉帝。
萦渟澹不流，
金碧如可拾。
迎晨含素华，
独往事朝汲。
Wang uses 朝 (read cháo) to mean attend [a ruler’s] court while Pei uses it (read zhāo) to mean morning, as if mocking Wang’s high-falutin’ poem. Wang’s dragon is specifically one so young it hasn’t yet grown horns, and according to one annotation his feathers are part of Taoist regalia. As in his previous poem, no overt human interaction following parting from his friend.
15. Whiterock Shoal
In the calm shallows of Whiterock Shoal,
Green reeds are long enough to grasp.
From houses east and west of the water,
They’re washing silk beneath the moon.
Feet dangling off the rock, repeatedly
Playing with ripples—it’s still calm.
Sunset, it’s chilly on the river—
The floating clouds are colorless.
白石滩
清浅白石滩，
绿蒲向堪把。
家住水东西，
浣纱明月下。
跂石复临水，
弄波情未极。
日下川上寒，
浮云澹无色。
Sunset has come (and the rain of Wang’s #13 has disappeared). A rare hint of any kind of women, the implied washers, though aside from observing them Wang is still not interacting with anyone. Keep track of that moon for his next few poems.
16. North Cottage
North Cottage, north of the lake waters:
Mixed trees shade its cinnabar door.
Twisting, winding, the south river waters—
Brightness cut off by straight green woods.
Below North Cottage at South Mountain,
Joined walls that overlook Yi Lake:
Though I want to gather firewood,
In a small boat I leave the rushes.
北垞
北垞湖水北，
杂树暎朱阑。
逶迤南川水，
明灭青林端。
南山北垞下，
结宇临欹湖。
每欲采樵去，
扁舟出菰蒲。
We’re at the same North Cottage glimpsed in #10, so we’ve circled the lake. Wang is back to observing nature, without interacting with people. Pei’s walls are those of rooms, so house walls rather than the outer wall of a yard.
17. Bamboo Lodge
Alone in a quiet bamboo grove,
I play the qin, repeatedly sigh.
Deep in the forest, no one sees
The bright moon come to shine on me.
I arrived at Bamboo Lodge
As sun and road were close together.
Coming and going: just a mountain bird—
Quiet and deep: no people of the world.
竹里馆
独坐幽篁里，
弹琴复长啸。
深林人不知，
明月来相照。
来过竹里馆，
日与道相亲。
出入唯山鸟，
幽深无世人。
Wang is still alone and getting consolation from nature. The qin is a 7-stringed zither with fixed bridges. Wang uses the same ambiguous sound word (啸: xiào) as Pei’s #11, but with even less context, so commentaries are all over the place whether he’s whistling, singing, sighing, howling, or even making a drawn-out sound of effort/determination. As for Pei’s poem, I’m reminded of his response in #5.
18. Magnolia Bank
At the ends of branches, lotus flowers
Send forth red buds amid the mountains.
Silent brook mouth, without people—
Disordered, they open and then scatter.
Green dikes, spring grasses, all combined ...
Descendent of kings, stop this joking.
This bitter scene, with flattened flowers—
And you, confusing them with lotus.
辛夷坞
木末芙蓉花，
山中发红萼。
涧户寂无人，
纷纷开且落。
绿堤春草合，
王孙自留玩。
况有辛夷花，
色与芙蓉乱。
Wang returns to earlier causes of melancholy, but now without explicit moping. The flowers of Magnolia liliiflora somewhat resemble lotus blooms, and Wang deliberately confuses them in an echo of his friend’s arrival in #9. Pei’s response is not just mocking, but outright mockery.
19. Lacquer Grove
That ancient man was no proud official—
He’d little work in worldly matters:
Offered by chance one minor office
At ease amid the many trees.
Good curbs held long feel natural,
The fruit of this harmonious rest.
Today I wander Lacquer Grove,
Just as happy as Old Zhuang.
漆园
古人非傲吏，
自阙经世务。
偶寄一微官，
婆娑数株树。
好闲早成性，
果此谐宿诺。
今日漆园游，
还同庄叟乐。
Echoes of the first pair of poems signal that Wang returns to a similar frame, as does the shift to worldly affairs and the cycle of history. While the ancient person (which Pei Di picks up on) refers to the philosopher Zhuangzi, who supposedly remained the manager of a lacquer-tree plantation rather than accept a more important position, the consensus is Wang is talking about himself, or at least what he aspired to. Undertone lost in translation: at ease can also be understood as withered away.
20. Pepper Grove
Cassia wine to greet a god’s child,
Boneset bestowed upon a beauty,
Pepper offered on a jade mat:
May you descend, O Lord of Clouds!
Cinnabar thorns hang from his clothes—
Incense detains a passing guest,
Good fortune suited to using a cauldron:
May you, my lord, bend and take these.
椒园
桂尊迎帝子，
杜若赠佳人。
椒浆奠瑶席，
欲下云中君。
丹刺罥人衣，
芳香留过客。
幸堪调鼎用，
愿君垂采摘。
This? —this poem of Wang’s is not a Buddhist poem, which just goes to show Wang Wei was not only a Buddhist. Specifically, his first three lines pastiche lines from the “Nine Songs” section of Songs of Chu, which are shamanistic rapsodies. The structure of approach, departure, and yearning of singer and deity repeated throughout the “Nine Songs” echoes Wang’s arc with both the natural world and his friend, and the historical reference makes it part of the same frame as his #1, 2 and 19. Pei, somewhat typically, elaborates on only the surface layer here (my hunch is his cryptic first line is also alluding to “Nine Songs,” but I haven’t been able to confirm that). FWIW, the pepper is the same peppery prickly-ash tree as in Pei’s #7.
---L.
Index of Chinese translations
Sometime in the 740s, friends Wang Wei and Pei Di collaborated on a poetry sequence, the Wangchuan Collection (辋川集). It consists of paired poems named after twenty locations on Wang’s estate, Wangchuan (“wheel-rim river”), 30 miles south of the capital Chang’an. The collection itself and landscape paintings based on the scenes (Wang was at least as well known as a painter as poet) were deeply influential through later centuries. Wang was interested in Buddhism, and his half of the collection is often cited as an example of Buddhist (sometimes especially Zen) poetry.
I translated two of Wang’s poems as part of 300 Tang Poems, but I was curious about the sequence as a whole, especially how the call-and-response and progression worked. But I haven’t been able to find a complete translation—just of Wang’s half, by multiple hands. So I did it myself.
For each pair, the first quatrain is Wang’s, followed by Pei’s response—though that statement requires a serious caveat. We don’t know how the collection was composed, aside from Wang’s claim in the preface that each poem was written in the location of the title. As received, there’s something of an organization in Wang’s poems, but not Pei’s, which jump all over the place in tone and content. On the other hand, it pretty clearly reads to me that often Pei’s poem responds to (and sometimes mocks) Wang’s, and never the other way around. My reading is that a) for each pair, Wang wrote his poem first, followed by Pei, and b) Wang sequenced the collection after the poems were written, by way of bringing out recurring themes present in his poems. (FWIW, most scholars agree with a), while the jury is out on b)—the organization is subtle and not all agree that there is one.)
Place names are generally translated only when the meaning is relevant in a poem, to avoid the Lady-Plum-Blossom effect. Pei’s poems are indented to make the change of author more clear.
Preface
Having left my official position, I resided in Wangchuan Ravine. There, together with Pei Di in our leisure, we rambled around, pausing at Eldest-Town Gap, Hauzi Ridge, Gingko Lodge, Clear-Bamboo Ridge, Deer Enclosure, Magnolia Enclosure, Dogwood Streambank, Scholartree Lane, Lakeside Pavilion, South Cottage, Yi Lake, Willow Waves, Luanjia Rapids, Golddust Spring, Whiterock Shoal, North Cottage, Bamboo Lodge, Magnolia Bank, Lacquer Grove, Pepper Grove, and so on, and at each we recited a quatrain, thus:
序
余别业在辋川山谷，其游止有孟城坳、华子冈、文杏馆、斤竹岭、鹿柴、木兰柴、茱萸泮、宫槐陌、临湖亭、南垞、欹湖、柳浪、栾家濑、金屑泉、白石滩、北垞、竹里馆、辛夷坞、漆园、椒园等，与裴迪闲暇，各赋绝句云尔。
1. Meng Town Gap
New house in a gap of Meng Town’s wall:
Old trees remain, all dying willows.
People to come—what will they have?
Empty sorrow for those of the past.
Hut built beneath an ancient town—
Time stepped upon the ancient town.
Wasn’t the ancient town once farmland?
Of course new people come and go.
孟城坳
新家孟城口，
古木余衰柳。
来者复为谁，
空悲昔人有。
结庐古城下，
时登古城上。
古城非畴昔，
今人自来往。
A new residence, and Wang sees in it a melancholy reminder of the faded past. The gap is in the former town wall. Pei plays with literal meaning eldest of the place-name (孟: mèng) by altering it to ancient.
2. Huazi Ridge
Birds flying endlessly away,
Mountain on mountain of autumn colors.
Ascending, descending Huazi Ridge—
When will this melancholy end?
Sun sets, wind rises in the pines;
Returning home, dew’s dried in the grass.
With clouds alight, I tread on footprints;
In green hills, brush off this one’s clothes.
华子冈
飞鸟去不穷，
连山复秋色。
上下华子冈，
惆怅情何极。
落日松风起，
还家草露晞。
云光侵履迹，
山翠拂人衣。
The orthodox Buddhist reaction to the fading of autumn is melancholy because it’s a reminder that we too shall fade. Wang comes returns to this thought later.
3. Ginkgo Lodge
Cut gingko wood for the roof-beam,
Knotted fragrant thatch for eaves.
It’s unknown if clouds inside the ridgepole
Will go make rain among the people.
Far, far away from Gingko Lodge,
The sun already has arisen.
South range together with north lake:
Ahead’s the same as looking back.
文杏馆
文杏裁为梁，
香茅结为宇。
不知栋里云，
去作人间雨。
迢迢文杏馆，
跻攀日已屡。
南岭与北湖，
前看复回顾。
After framing the collection with two reminders of the passing of things of this world, Wang has a more local meditation. Ginkgo was valued as a fine hardwood for construction.
4. Clear-Bamboo Ridge
Hardwoods reflected in empty winding:
Blue-green waters ripple and swirl.
I secretly enter Shang Mountain path—
Even the woodcutters do not know.
A clear stream that’s both twisting and straight,
Green bamboo thick as well as deep.
One track goes through, a mountain path:
Singing, I walk towards the worn hill.
斤竹岭
檀栾暎空曲，
青翠漾涟漪。
暗入商山路，
樵人不可知。
明流纡且直，
绿篠密复深。
一径通山路，
行歌望旧岑。
The hardwoods are named sandalwood and goldenrain. Wang’s 曲 winding can also mean song, which Pei plays off of using a synonym to undercut the secret sneaking. He also plays off the place name, using synonyms for both clear and bamboo.
5. Deer Enclosure
Empty mountain—I don’t see anyone,
But hear the sound of someone’s voice.
Light returns to the deep forest,
Reflected up from the green moss.
I see at sunset the cold mountain—
It’s easy to be a lone guest leaving.
I don’t know what’s in the deep forest,
But here’s the hoof-prints of a roebuck.
鹿柴
空山不见人，
但闻人语响。
返景入深林，
复照青苔上。
日夕见寒山，
便为独往客。
不知深林事，
但有麏麚迹。
Having set out for the mountains, here we are. The title is literally deer wooden-fence, generally understood as some sort of deer park. The light of Wang’s setting sun is sometimes taken as a reference to Amida Buddha; whether it is shining “on” or “up from” the moss is hotly debated (the alternative last line would be “Shines again on the green moss”).
6. Magnolia Enclosure
The autumn hills block the last light:
Birds fly after their former companions.
Deep emerald blues, at times distinct—
The evening mists have no place to stay.
Dark, dark blue at sunset time:
Bird calls mix with the mountain stream.
Follow that stream—the path turns far.
Darkness rises—so when to stop?
木兰柴
秋山敛余照，
飞鸟逐前侣。
彩翠时分明，
夕岚无处所。
苍苍落日时，
鸟声乱谿水。
缘谿路转深，
幽兴何时已。
7. Dogwood Streambank
With berries red as well as green,
Like flowers blossoming again:
Should a guest stop within the mountains,
I could use these dogwood cups.
The scent of the wind a confusion of spices,
Cloth leaves in gaps between the hardwoods.
Overcast—though the light will return,
The forest sinks as if naturally cold.
茱萸沜
结实红且绿，
复如花更开。
山中傥留客，
置此茱萸杯。
飘香乱椒桂，
布叶间檀栾。
云日虽回照，
森沈犹自寒。
The dogwood is the Chinese cornel dogwood (Cornus officinalis), which Pei deliberately confuses with a kind of pepper-tree (specifically, an ailanthus-like prickly-ash, Zanthoxylum ailanthoides) commonly known in Chinese as “edible dogwood” because of its similar berries. Pei’s hardwoods are the same as in Wang’s #4.
8. Scholartree Lane
A side-path sheltered by scholar trees—
Secluded, dark, with many green mosses.
The gatekeeper’s focused on his sweeping,
Worried a mountain monk might come.
The gate in front of Scholartree Lane
Faces straight towards Yi Lake Road.
Come autumn’s frequent mountain rains,
There’s none to sweep the fallen leaves.
宫槐陌
仄迳荫宫槐，
幽阴多绿苔。
应门但迎埽，
畏有山僧来。
门前宫槐陌，
是向欹湖道。
秋来山雨多，
落叶无人扫。
After a first intimation of a guest arriving, Wang brings the possibility up again. The scholar tree, also called pagoda tree, is a kind of locust. It reads to me that Pei is gently critiquing Wang for fancifully adding a non-existent gatekeeper, but that’s a very tentative reading.
9. Lakeside Pavilion
My light boat greets an immortal guest
Coming leisurely over the lake.
We face out windows with paired wine cups
While all around the lotuses bloom.
We face out windows: broad waters swirl—
The lone high moon circles like sleeves.
The sound of apes comes from the valley:
Borne on the wind, it enters the door.
临湖亭
轻舸迎仙客，
悠悠湖上来。
当轩对尊酒，
四面芙蓉开。
当轩弥滉漾，
孤月正裴回。
谷口猨声发，
风传入户来。
Wang’s intimated guest arrives at the aforementioned lake, where we’ll spend the next couple poems. The pavilion is the sort set in the middle of the waters, rather than literally on the bank, and in Wang’s second couplet the action has moved inside it. More puzzling are the non-autumnal lotuses and the sudden monkeys.
10. South Cottage
My light skiff departs South Cottage:
North Cottage is hard to reach by water.
I gaze at homes on the distant shore—
So far, we can’t discern each other’s.
My lone boat’s truly at its mooring
On the lake-bank by South Cottage.
The setting sun goes down in Yanzi;
Soft waves die out, spread on the waters.
南垞
轻舟南垞去，
北垞淼难即。
隔浦望人家，
遥遥不相识。
孤舟信一泊，
南垞湖水岸。
落日下崦嵫，
清波殊淼漫。
Hints of the eventual departure of the friend. Wang’s last line can also be understood as “I can't discern my own.” Yanzi is a mountain in modern Gansu with a cave the setting sun supposedly disappears into.
11. Yi Lake
Playing flutes, we cross to the far shore:
As the day ends, I see you off.
Upon the lake, a turn of the head—
White clouds are curling round green mountains.
The sky is wide, lake waters broad—
Blue shimmers: heaven’s color’s the same.
As I moor my boat, one long howl:
From all around the clear wind comes.
欹湖
吹箫凌极浦，
日暮送夫君。
湖上一回首，
青山卷白云。
空阔湖水广，
青荧天色同。
舣舟一长啸，
四面来清风。
As anticipated, Wang’s friend (addressed with a term of respect for a male friend) departs. The flute is a xiāo (箫), which can be any of several types of end-blown bamboo flute, both fingered and collected like panpipes. The sound in Pei’s line 3 (啸: xiào) is an ambiguous word, encompassing anything along the lines of howl, sigh, whistle, hiss, or sing. Given the apes in Pei’s #9, I’m going with howl, though Wang’s flutes and the wind itself are also possibilities.
12. Willow Waves
Beautiful trees separately gathered:
Inverted images in clear ripples.
They didn’t learn from the royal moat—
Those sadden on parting in spring winds.
The water’s reflections appear as one—
A puff, and they scatter like silk threads.
Joined shadows already have the earth:
Who evades time in that clay house?
柳浪
分行接绮树，
倒影入清漪。
不学御沟上，
春风伤别离。
映池同一色，
逐吹散如丝。
结阴既得地，
何谢陶家时。
Still at the lake. In his last line, Wang is apparently making a contrast with the current autumn season. Because willow (柳: modern pronunciation liǔ) sounds like stay (留: modern liú), it was the custom when seeing someone off to give the departer a willow branch. The pedestrian walkway on the bank of the moat around the imperial palace in Chang’an was planted with willows, and so was a site for many farewells during the season of official postings. Pei seems to be saying, “Sadness upon parting? I’ll give you a reason to be sad.”
13. Luanjia Rapids
Sa sa amid autumn rain,
The shallows flood across the rocks.
The leaping waves splash up together—
An egret starts, then settles back.
The rapids roar at the far bank:
I follow the ford to the south crossing.
The floating gulls and ducks come over,
Time after time, to be near people.
栾家濑
飒飒秋雨中，
浅浅石溜泻。
跳波自相溅，
白鹭惊复下。
濑声喧极浦，
沿涉向南津。
泛泛鸥凫渡，
时时欲近人。
Wang’s water goes down, then across, then up, but the egret goes up and down—he’s starting to achieve some measure of peace after his friend’s departure, mirrored in the bird. Pei’s birds, on the other hand, are more directly responsive to their observer.
14. Golddust Spring
Drink daily from this Golddust Spring:
Stay young for more than a thousand years.
Green phoenix guarding the patterned dragon—
Feather adorned, attend the Jade Emperor.
Winding and still, clear and unflowing:
Gold, jade—as if you can gather them.
Greeting the dawn, I drank pure splendor—
My sole affair, my morning draft.
金屑泉
日饮金屑泉，
少当千余岁。
翠凤翊文螭，
羽节朝玉帝。
萦渟澹不流，
金碧如可拾。
迎晨含素华，
独往事朝汲。
Wang uses 朝 (read cháo) to mean attend [a ruler’s] court while Pei uses it (read zhāo) to mean morning, as if mocking Wang’s high-falutin’ poem. Wang’s dragon is specifically one so young it hasn’t yet grown horns, and according to one annotation his feathers are part of Taoist regalia. As in his previous poem, no overt human interaction following parting from his friend.
15. Whiterock Shoal
In the calm shallows of Whiterock Shoal,
Green reeds are long enough to grasp.
From houses east and west of the water,
They’re washing silk beneath the moon.
Feet dangling off the rock, repeatedly
Playing with ripples—it’s still calm.
Sunset, it’s chilly on the river—
The floating clouds are colorless.
白石滩
清浅白石滩，
绿蒲向堪把。
家住水东西，
浣纱明月下。
跂石复临水，
弄波情未极。
日下川上寒，
浮云澹无色。
Sunset has come (and the rain of Wang’s #13 has disappeared). A rare hint of any kind of women, the implied washers, though aside from observing them Wang is still not interacting with anyone. Keep track of that moon for his next few poems.
16. North Cottage
North Cottage, north of the lake waters:
Mixed trees shade its cinnabar door.
Twisting, winding, the south river waters—
Brightness cut off by straight green woods.
Below North Cottage at South Mountain,
Joined walls that overlook Yi Lake:
Though I want to gather firewood,
In a small boat I leave the rushes.
北垞
北垞湖水北，
杂树暎朱阑。
逶迤南川水，
明灭青林端。
南山北垞下，
结宇临欹湖。
每欲采樵去，
扁舟出菰蒲。
We’re at the same North Cottage glimpsed in #10, so we’ve circled the lake. Wang is back to observing nature, without interacting with people. Pei’s walls are those of rooms, so house walls rather than the outer wall of a yard.
17. Bamboo Lodge
Alone in a quiet bamboo grove,
I play the qin, repeatedly sigh.
Deep in the forest, no one sees
The bright moon come to shine on me.
I arrived at Bamboo Lodge
As sun and road were close together.
Coming and going: just a mountain bird—
Quiet and deep: no people of the world.
竹里馆
独坐幽篁里，
弹琴复长啸。
深林人不知，
明月来相照。
来过竹里馆，
日与道相亲。
出入唯山鸟，
幽深无世人。
Wang is still alone and getting consolation from nature. The qin is a 7-stringed zither with fixed bridges. Wang uses the same ambiguous sound word (啸: xiào) as Pei’s #11, but with even less context, so commentaries are all over the place whether he’s whistling, singing, sighing, howling, or even making a drawn-out sound of effort/determination. As for Pei’s poem, I’m reminded of his response in #5.
18. Magnolia Bank
At the ends of branches, lotus flowers
Send forth red buds amid the mountains.
Silent brook mouth, without people—
Disordered, they open and then scatter.
Green dikes, spring grasses, all combined ...
Descendent of kings, stop this joking.
This bitter scene, with flattened flowers—
And you, confusing them with lotus.
辛夷坞
木末芙蓉花，
山中发红萼。
涧户寂无人，
纷纷开且落。
绿堤春草合，
王孙自留玩。
况有辛夷花，
色与芙蓉乱。
Wang returns to earlier causes of melancholy, but now without explicit moping. The flowers of Magnolia liliiflora somewhat resemble lotus blooms, and Wang deliberately confuses them in an echo of his friend’s arrival in #9. Pei’s response is not just mocking, but outright mockery.
19. Lacquer Grove
That ancient man was no proud official—
He’d little work in worldly matters:
Offered by chance one minor office
At ease amid the many trees.
Good curbs held long feel natural,
The fruit of this harmonious rest.
Today I wander Lacquer Grove,
Just as happy as Old Zhuang.
漆园
古人非傲吏，
自阙经世务。
偶寄一微官，
婆娑数株树。
好闲早成性，
果此谐宿诺。
今日漆园游，
还同庄叟乐。
Echoes of the first pair of poems signal that Wang returns to a similar frame, as does the shift to worldly affairs and the cycle of history. While the ancient person (which Pei Di picks up on) refers to the philosopher Zhuangzi, who supposedly remained the manager of a lacquer-tree plantation rather than accept a more important position, the consensus is Wang is talking about himself, or at least what he aspired to. Undertone lost in translation: at ease can also be understood as withered away.
20. Pepper Grove
Cassia wine to greet a god’s child,
Boneset bestowed upon a beauty,
Pepper offered on a jade mat:
May you descend, O Lord of Clouds!
Cinnabar thorns hang from his clothes—
Incense detains a passing guest,
Good fortune suited to using a cauldron:
May you, my lord, bend and take these.
椒园
桂尊迎帝子，
杜若赠佳人。
椒浆奠瑶席，
欲下云中君。
丹刺罥人衣，
芳香留过客。
幸堪调鼎用，
愿君垂采摘。
This? —this poem of Wang’s is not a Buddhist poem, which just goes to show Wang Wei was not only a Buddhist. Specifically, his first three lines pastiche lines from the “Nine Songs” section of Songs of Chu, which are shamanistic rapsodies. The structure of approach, departure, and yearning of singer and deity repeated throughout the “Nine Songs” echoes Wang’s arc with both the natural world and his friend, and the historical reference makes it part of the same frame as his #1, 2 and 19. Pei, somewhat typically, elaborates on only the surface layer here (my hunch is his cryptic first line is also alluding to “Nine Songs,” but I haven’t been able to confirm that). FWIW, the pepper is the same peppery prickly-ash tree as in Pei’s #7.
---L.
Index of Chinese translations