Three Hundred Tang Poems #291-320
23 April 2020 08:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
larryhammerAnother scroll of translations: the second half of part 8, being thirty more seven-character regulated quatrains, revised from initial drafts posted here. These cover an interesting range of topics and moods, though of course only within what the compiler thought acceptable in NeoConfucian moralism (his preface is explicit about his didactic purpose). Plus, lo!, there's a poem attributed to a woman. Tacked onto the end, but hey I’ll take what I can get here.
To be explicit again: my translation priorities have been rendering the literal sense, matching rhetorical structures and tone, emotional tenor, and compression, in as close to regular English meter as I can manage without doing violence to those other priorities. Where easy to do without departing “too far” from the original, I sometimes incorporate glosses into the translation, but otherwise save explanations for an endnote. Rhyme like in the originals remains a wistful dream.
As always, discussions/suggestions/corrections are welcome.
291. Mooring on the Qinhuai, Du Mu
Mist covers the cold water, moonlight covers the sands:
A nighttime mooring on the Qinhuai near a wine-shop.
The song-girls do not know a conquered country’s regret,
But over the river one’s still singing “Courtyard Flower.”
泊秦淮
烟笼寒水月笼沙，
夜泊秦淮近酒家。
商女不知亡国恨，
隔江犹唱后庭花。
(At the end of the last installment, Du Mu’s previous couple poems were from being en route to an official position in the Yangzi delta area. With this one, he arrives.) The Qinhuai River flows through Nanjing. “Courtyard Flower” was a song written by the last emperor of the southern Chen Dynasty (capital: Nanjing) widely believed to be a presentment of his 589 fall to the reunification forces of the Sui Dynasty (see also #306 below). Du’s singer lived more than two centuries later.
292. Sent to Assistant Magistrate Han Chuo in Yangzhou, Du Mu
Blue mountains are indistinct, the river is remote:
Autumn’s ending here, but Yangzi plants aren’t withered.
A bright moon night above that bridge called Twenty-Four—
So, Beauty, where are you having a bamboo flute be played?
寄扬州韩绰判官
青山隐隐水迢迢，
秋尽江南草未凋。
二十四桥明月夜，
玉人何处教吹箫。
Yangzhou is in the Yangzi delta, just downstream of Nanjing—Du Mu served there for a while (see next poem) before moving on to another position, so he was familiar with the bridge. “Here” is an interpretive addition to clarify relative locations. Whether it really is a bridge is uncertain: Within a few centuries, commentators were already confused about whether 二十四桥 meant a collective of 24 bridges or single bridge named Twenty-Four, supposedly after an incident in which 24 beautiful women played bamboo flutes there. Since the last line seems to refer to the latter incident, I went with that. A 箫 (xiao) can be any of several types of end-blown bamboo flute, both fingered and collected like panpipes. From another poem, we know “Beauty” was Du Mu’s nickname for Han Chuo, making this a bit of inside joking between friends.
293. Venting My Feelings, Du Mu
Down in the rivers and lakes, carrying wine as I went—
Those Southern waists so slim and light within my grasp.
Waking up from my ten-year sleep, from Yangzhou dreams,
I’ve won in the pleasure quarter the name of a fickle lover.
遣怀
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。
294. Autumn Night, Du Mu
The silver candle’s an autumn light for the chilly screen—
I have a small gauze fan in fireflies aflutter.
The nighttime scene of stairs outside is cool like water.
I sit and watch the stars of Weaver-girl and Cowherd.
秋夕
银烛秋光冷画屏，
轻罗小扇扑流萤。
天阶夜色凉如水，
坐看牵牛织女星。
The screen is a painted room divider. The festival of the 7th night of the 7th (lunar) month commemorates the one night of the year the Cowherd (Altair) and the Weaver-girl of Heaven (Vega) can meet, via a bridge made of magpies flying over the river of the Milky Way. (Note that the stairs can be understood as being “under” or “in” the sky.) The indoor setting, the fan, and the romantic context suggest a female speaker.
295. Presented at Parting 1, Du Mu
Graceful and slender, no longer thirteen,
A cardamom tip in the early spring.
Ten li of spring breezes on Yangzhou Road:
Roll up each bead curtain—none will be better.
赠别之一
娉娉袅袅十三余，
豆蔻梢头二月初。
春风十里扬州路，
卷上珠帘总不如。
First of a two-poem series written for a singer he had previously gotten to know five years before, when she was thirteen. At the start of the second lunar month (the literal season given) in the Yangzi delta, cardamom is budding and about to bloom—and indeed, “cardamom bud” is an idiom for a budding beauty. The spring breezes are courtesans, and the bead curtains are on their windows.
296. Presented at Parting 2, Du Mu
I feel so much, although I seem unfeeling:
I wake by the wine-jar, but I cannot smile.
This candle with a heart is reluctant to part—
It takes my place and drips down tears till dawn.
赠别之二
多情却似总无情，
唯觉樽前笑不成。
蜡烛有心还惜别，
替人垂泪到天明。
“Wick” and “heart” are homophones (xīn).
297. Golden Valley Garden, Du Mu
Luxurious things fall apart, chasing the fragrant dust;
The waters flow unfeeling, grasses green on their own;
In dusk’s east wind, the cries of some resentful birds;
The falling petals: just like she who jumped from this tower.
金谷园
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。
The garden was the extravagant Luoyang estate of Northern Jin Dynasty minister Shi Chong. His concubine Lüzhu was accused of unfaithfulness as part of a political plot by his rival, and to prove her innocence she suicided by jumping.
298. Sent North on a Rainy Night, Li Shangyin
You ask when I’ll return—the when is not yet set.
Night rains on Sichuan mountains swell the autumn pools.
When shall we trim the wick of our west window candle
While I describe night rains on Sichuan mountains?
夜雨寄北
君问归期未有期，
巴山夜雨涨秋池。
何当共剪西窗烛，
却话巴山夜雨时。
Written to his wife while serving as a staff administrator for a military commissioner in eastern Sichuan.
299. Sent to Director Linghu, Li Shangyin
The Mt Song clouds and trees of Qin are far apart—
So far remote, it took two carp to send your letter.
Don’t ask about my visiting Liang Park again:
Xiangru lies ill in autumn showers in Maoling.
寄令狐郎中
嵩云秦树久离居，
双鲤迢迢一纸书。
休问梁园旧宾客，
茂陵秋雨病相如。
Linghu Tao was a friend and influential official. Mt Song is near Luoyang (where Li Shangyin was stationed) and the former kingdom of Qin included the Chang’an capital (where Linghu was). That these cities are only 230 miles apart, straight up the Yellow River, signals that Li’s being just a touch self-dramatizing. A carp was a standard literary symbol for a messenger with a letter (and sometimes the letter itself). The last line is a classic example of Li’s use of allusions: Sima Xiangru, one of the greatest poets of the Western Han dynasty, died in exile at Maoling (the site of the mausoleum of Han Emperor Wu) after a long illness—in other words, Li is claiming that he too is ill (and that he too is a great poet and in exile). These kinds of vivid details, presented without transition or explanation, is characteristic of Li and requires a lot of endnoting.
300. Because She Has, Li Shangyin
Because she has unbounded beauty behind this mica screen,
In Phoenix City at winter’s end she dreads spring nights:
For no good reason married to a gold-tortoise husband
Who fails her perfumed quilt, attending morning court.
为有
为有云屏无限娇，
凤城寒尽怕春宵。
无端嫁得金龟婿，
辜负香衾事早朝。
Phoenix City is the capital, and golden tortoises were embroidered on the court robes of high-ranked officials. Spring is dreaded because morning, when he leaves their bed, comes earlier.
301. Sui Palace, Li Shangyin
He rambled the South on impulse, without strong precautions—
Who would, in these nine-layer walls, admonish him?
In spring winds, all the nation cut up royal brocades:
Half made into saddle mud-guards, half into sails.
隋宫
乘兴南游不戒严，
九重谁省谏书函。
春风举国裁宫锦，
半作障泥半作帆。
Ancient history infodump: Sui Emperor Yang had a lavish palace in Yangzhou (“nine-layer” was a conventional descriptor of an imperial palace, referring to the walls). He was, to put it mildly, extravagant and self-indulgent: when he traveled around the region, abducting women, he didn’t like an encumbering entourage, and more than once criticism by officials was met with death sentences.
302. Jasper Lake, Li Shangyin
At Jasper Lake, Queen Mother opens her fine window.
His “Yellow Bamboo” song—it moves the mournful earth;
His eight fine steeds traverse thousands of miles a day—
So what’s the reason King Mu doesn’t come again?
瑶池
瑶池阿母绮窗开，
黄竹歌声动地哀。
八骏日行三万里，
穆王何事不重来。
Mythology infodump: Jasper Lake in the Kunlun mountains was the dwelling place of the goddess Queen Mother of the West. Mu was a real king of the Zhou dynasty; according to later legends, in the mid-900s BCE he traveled around the world with his 8 supernaturally fast horses (here, literally traveling 30,000 li a day, or 6000 miles), along the way visiting and having a fling with the Queen Mother. On his way home, he supposedly saw Yellow Bamboo village starving in a famine and sang an elegy for it. He promised to return to her in three years but died before doing so.
303. Chang’e, Li Shangyin
The candle’s shadows deepen on the mica screen—
The River of Stars slowly lowers, the Dawn Star sinks.
Chang’e surely regrets stealing the potion of life:
Green skies, blue seas, night after night within her heart.
嫦娥
云母屏风烛影深，
长河渐落晓星沈。
嫦娥应悔偷灵药，
碧海青天夜夜心。
Another mythology infodump: Chang’e stole a potion (or pill) of immortality given to her husband and fled to the moon, where she remained exiled as the Moon Goddess.
304. Sir Jia, Li Shangyin
The palace needed talent, but demoted this official:
Sir Jia was capable indeed—and more, without a peer.
So what a pity: modest now before the throne at midnight,
The emperor ignores the people, asking of ghosts and gods.
贾生
宣室求贤访逐臣，
贾生才调更无伦。
可怜夜半虚前席，
不问苍生问鬼神。
Another ancient history infodump: the capable official and scholar Jia Yi was demoted to a provincial office for submitting a memo criticising Han Emperor Wen. He was later summoned back to the capital not to reinstate him but rather for a late-night consultation on how to raise spirits. The incident is a common idiom for a missed opportunity.
305. Jade Se Complaint, Wen Tingyun
Ice mat and silvered bed—I can’t start dreaming.
Jade sky like water—nighttime clouds are soft.
Far wild geese call, heading for Xiangjiang River.
Within the twelve towers, moonlight shines alone.
瑶瑟怨
冰簟银床梦不成，
碧天如水夜云轻。
雁声远过潇湘去，
十二楼中月自明。
The se is an ancient zither with between 25–50 strings and moveable bridges—ancestor of both the qin and zheng; it and its jade inlay suggest an elegant setting. The implied speaker is a woman lying awake with longing. That her quarters have 12 towers on the grounds is probably rhetorical exaggeration. The river is in Hunan.
306. Mawei Hill, Zheng Tian
Xuanzong returns by horse, his Yang-fei dead,
Their rain-clouds hard to forget in days to come.
Thus the enlightened son of heaven ends it:
Who would repeat the Jingyang Palace well?
马嵬坡
玄宗回马杨妃死，
云雨难忘日月新。
终是圣明天子事，
景阳宫井又何人。
Mawei is where Yang Yuhuan Guifei was summarily beheaded by Emperor Xuanzong’s bodyguards as they fled Chang’an ahead of its capture by her adoptive son, the rebel general An Lushan. The second line is literally “clouds (and) rain (will be) hard to forget (in) new suns (and) moons,” a lovely constellation of images—and “clouds (and) rain” is here an idiom for sexual bliss. As the victorious Sui armies closed in, the last emperor of the Chen Dynasty (see #291 above) hid in a palace well with his two favorite concubines.
307. Already Chilly, Han Wo
Outside the jade-green railing an embroidered curtain hangs;
A scarlet-colored screen painted with broken branches;
An eight-foot mat of rushes, a square brocaded cushion:
Already chilly weather, though it’s not yet winter.
已凉
碧阑干外绣帘垂，
猩色屏风画折枝。
八尺龙须方锦褥，
已凉天气未寒时。
The rushes are a type called “dragon whiskers.”
308. A Picture of Nanjing, Wei Zhuang
The river rain is heavy on level river grasses.
Six Dynasties are like a dream—bird calls in sky.
The most unfeeling is this willow in Taicheng.
Unchanging mist still covers the three miles of dyke.
金陵图
江雨霏霏江草齐，
六朝如梦鸟空啼。
无情最是台城柳，
依旧烟笼十里堤。
The Six Dynasties were, during the Northern and Southern Dynasties period of disunity between the Han and Sui empires, the southern ones all having their capital in what’s now Nanjing. Taicheng was the imperial palace for most of the six. The 3 miles (5 km) is literally 10 li.
309. Longxi Journey, Chen Tao
Sworn to sweep away the Xiongnu, not caring for their lives,
Five-thousand sable uniforms lay dead in the dust of the Hu.
Have pity on these bones upon the bank of Shifting River—
They still are the people dreamt of in the women’s quarters.
陇西行
誓扫匈奴不顾身，
五千貂锦丧胡尘。
可怜无定河边骨，
犹是深闺梦里人。
This refers to an infamous 104 BCE defeat by Xiongnu steppe nomads in a battle by the Wuding (“unfixed”) River in northern Shaanxi. Xiongnu and Hu are technically different peoples, but as mentioned before, the terms for non-Han outside the empire sometimes get tossed around carelessly. Lost in translation: the uniforms are named indirectly as “sable-fur (and) brocade,” which were used in the uniforms of elite soldiers.
Longxi of the title is, FWIW, in eastern Gansu, a fair distance away from the battlefield—this was originally part of a four-poem sequence written while traveling there.
310. Sent to Someone, Zhang Bi
After leaving, I dreamed I traveled to Xie House—
The small veranda twisting round, the railing askew.
In the spring courtyard there was only the bright moon:
It’s like my distant one’s a painting of falling flowers.
寄人
别梦依依到谢家，
小廊回合曲阑斜。
多情只有春庭月，
犹为离人照落花。
Context strongly suggests he’s writing to a lover.
311. Miscellaneous Poem, Anonymous
It’s almost Cold Food Day—the plants grow lush in the rain—
The wind blows through the wheat-sprouts—willows lean on the dyke.
Like me, you have a home, but I cannot go back:
Cuckoo, stop crying “Quickly return!” beside my ear!
杂诗
尽寒食雨草萋萋，
著麦苗风柳映堤。
等是有家归未得，
杜鹃休向耳边啼。
Cold Food Day (see #274) is in early April. The conventional onomatopoeia for the cuckoo’s call (not given in the original) sounds like “quickly return”.
312. Weicheng Song, Wang Wei
A Weicheng dawn, rain gently dampens the dust—
The tavern’s green with willows freshly colored.
I urge you, drain another cup of wine:
Out west, beyond Yang Pass, there’s no old friends.
渭城曲
渭城朝雨浥轻尘，
客舍青青柳色新。
劝君更尽一杯酒，
西出阳关无故人。
On to the folk-song-style poems that also happen to be four seven-character lines, similar to the group at the end of part 7 starting with #253—and as with those, in some editions, these are included with the other seven-character folk-song-style poems.
Weicheng (“city on the Wei”) was a few kilometers west/upstream of Chang’an. The willows imply a parting, confirmed in the next lines. Yang Pass, on the Silk Road near Dunhuang, Gansu, somewhat to the west, was the border between the central and frontier provinces.
313. Autumn Night Song, Wang Wei
The moon’s just visible, the autumn dew is sparse—
Light silk’s too thin but I’ve not yet put on more clothes.
Night deepens, I repeatedly pluck my silver zheng:
Heart dreads that empty room—I cannot bear to return.
秋夜曲
桂魄初生秋露微，
轻罗已薄未更衣。
银筝夜久殷勤弄，
心怯空房不忍归。
The implied speaker is (again) a lonely woman, one who’s avoiding her bedroom. A zheng is a zither with movable bridges (like a koto). Lost in translation: it’s literally the “cassia [on the moon] ’s soul” that’s just visible—basically a poeticism for the moon itself.
314. Complaint of Eternal Truth Pavilion, Wang Changling
We sweep the courtyard clean, and then the Gold Hall opens;
Holding our round fans, we pace back and forth.
My jade face isn’t even worth a jackdaw’s mug—
For that one can at least reach where the clear sun comes.
长信怨
奉帚平明金殿开，
且将团扇共徘徊。
玉颜不及寒鸦色，
犹带昭阳日影来。
This incorporates quotations from poems by Zhao Feiyan, a consort of Han Emperor Cheng, who though a great beauty of the imperial harem eventually fell out of favor through court intrigue. The speaker is, like her, an imperial concubine and sunlight stands for the emperor’s favor.
315. Beyond the Border, Wang Changling
In Qin times, same bright moon—in Han times, same frontier—
A long march of ten-thousand li, no men return.
If only Dragon City’s Flying General were here:
He’d not permit Hu horses to cross the Shadow Mountains.
出塞
秦时明月汉时关，
万里长征人未还。
但使龙城飞将在，
不教胡马渡阴山。
At the time, the frontier of the Great Wall passed along the southern range of the Shadow (Yin) Mountains crossing the Ordos Loop in Inner Mongolia. The Flying General was Li Guang (d.119 BCE), who won several important defensive victories against the feared Xiongnu (who, again, actually weren’t the same people as the Hu).
316. Beyond the Border, Wang Zihuan
The distant Yellow River. Above, a gap in white clouds.
A single lonely city wall in towering mountains.
A Qiang flute—who’s complaining with that willow song?
The spring winds still aren’t blowing through the Jade Gate Pass.
出塞
黄河远上白云间，
一片孤城万仞山。
羌笛何须怨杨柳，
春风不度玉门关。
This is also known as "Liangzhou Song" (that being a garrison in central Gansu), and was originally the first of a two-poem sequence. The mountains are literally "10,000 ren" or about 80,000 feet high. The Qiang are a non-Han people (first met in #259) now mainly living in northern Sichuan but formerly ranging into Gansu and Qinghai provinces; the flute associated with them is a transverse bamboo model. The song is a popular one about parting in springtime. Jade Gate Pass in western Gansu (see #277) was where the Silk Road passed around the far western end of the Great Wall, and the wind is a symbol for attention (in the way of support) from the central government.
317. To the Tune of “Pure Peace” 1, Li Bai
Clouds want her clothing, flowers want her countenance—
The spring winds stroke the railing where the bright dew’s thick.
If we can’t glimpse her upon the top of Qunyu Mountain,
Then we can face Jade Terrace and meet her beneath the moon.
清平调之一
云想衣裳花想容，
春风拂槛露华浓。
若非群玉山头见，
会向瑶台月下逢。
This and the next two were composed impromptu at a flower-viewing party attended by Emperor Xuanzong and Yang Yuhuan Guifei, where they were sung by Li Guinian (see #271). As such, all three are bald flattery—and strikingly beautiful songs that became wildly popular. Jade Terrace on Mt Qunyu is the residence of the Queen Mother of the West (see also #302).
318. To the Tune of “Pure Peace” 2, Li Bai
A branch of crimson splendor, fragrant, thick with dew—
Rain-clouds upon Mt Wu and broken hearts are in vain.
I ask you, who in the Han palace could compare?
No, pity Feiyan, who had to use fresh makeup.
清平调之二
一枝红艳露凝香，
云雨巫山枉断肠。
借问汉宫谁得似，
可怜飞燕倚新妆。
The crimson branch is understood as the red flowers of tree peonies. “Rain (and) clouds” is, as in #306, an idiom for having sex, and Mt Wu in western Hubei was reputed to be a home for beautiful fairies. Like the present empress consort, Consort Zhao Feiyan (see #314) also monopolized her husband’s attention (for a time).
319. To the Tune of “Pure Peace” 3, Li Bai
Such flowers and devastating beauty both bring joy—
And always make their ruler gaze on them with a smile.
To dispel the springtime wind’s unbounded resentment,
North of Aloeswood Pavilion, they lean on the railing.
清平调之三
名花倾国两相欢，
常得君王带笑看。
解释春风无限恨，
沈香亭北倚阑干。
Still with the tree peonies, this time directly comparing them to Yang Guifei, who is described as a “kingdom-wrecker” level of beauty without the irony of historical hindsight. The last line is sometimes understood as the couple leaning on the railing to pick flowers.
320. Gold-Threaded Robe, Du Qiuniang
I urge my lord, don’t cherish this gold-threaded robe—
I urge my lord to cherish now the years of youth.
When blossoms can be picked, you must just pick them—
Don’t wait till there’s no flowers to pick the empty branch.
金缕衣
劝君莫惜金缕衣，
劝君惜取少年时。
花开堪折直须折，
莫待无花空折枝。
Last in the collection is the only poem attributed to a woman, which is addressed as a concubine to her husband. The titular robe stands for pursuing an official career. (FWIW, while a military governor, he rebelled against the emperor and was executed, after which she was made an imperial concubine.) It’s easy to read this as urging him to cherish his own youth, but given he was likely rather older than her, I hear cherishing her youth as an undertone.
And with that, I’ve run out of four-line poems. Time to tackle longer things.
---L.
Index of Chinese translations
To be explicit again: my translation priorities have been rendering the literal sense, matching rhetorical structures and tone, emotional tenor, and compression, in as close to regular English meter as I can manage without doing violence to those other priorities. Where easy to do without departing “too far” from the original, I sometimes incorporate glosses into the translation, but otherwise save explanations for an endnote. Rhyme like in the originals remains a wistful dream.
As always, discussions/suggestions/corrections are welcome.
291. Mooring on the Qinhuai, Du Mu
Mist covers the cold water, moonlight covers the sands:
A nighttime mooring on the Qinhuai near a wine-shop.
The song-girls do not know a conquered country’s regret,
But over the river one’s still singing “Courtyard Flower.”
泊秦淮
烟笼寒水月笼沙，
夜泊秦淮近酒家。
商女不知亡国恨，
隔江犹唱后庭花。
(At the end of the last installment, Du Mu’s previous couple poems were from being en route to an official position in the Yangzi delta area. With this one, he arrives.) The Qinhuai River flows through Nanjing. “Courtyard Flower” was a song written by the last emperor of the southern Chen Dynasty (capital: Nanjing) widely believed to be a presentment of his 589 fall to the reunification forces of the Sui Dynasty (see also #306 below). Du’s singer lived more than two centuries later.
292. Sent to Assistant Magistrate Han Chuo in Yangzhou, Du Mu
Blue mountains are indistinct, the river is remote:
Autumn’s ending here, but Yangzi plants aren’t withered.
A bright moon night above that bridge called Twenty-Four—
So, Beauty, where are you having a bamboo flute be played?
寄扬州韩绰判官
青山隐隐水迢迢，
秋尽江南草未凋。
二十四桥明月夜，
玉人何处教吹箫。
Yangzhou is in the Yangzi delta, just downstream of Nanjing—Du Mu served there for a while (see next poem) before moving on to another position, so he was familiar with the bridge. “Here” is an interpretive addition to clarify relative locations. Whether it really is a bridge is uncertain: Within a few centuries, commentators were already confused about whether 二十四桥 meant a collective of 24 bridges or single bridge named Twenty-Four, supposedly after an incident in which 24 beautiful women played bamboo flutes there. Since the last line seems to refer to the latter incident, I went with that. A 箫 (xiao) can be any of several types of end-blown bamboo flute, both fingered and collected like panpipes. From another poem, we know “Beauty” was Du Mu’s nickname for Han Chuo, making this a bit of inside joking between friends.
293. Venting My Feelings, Du Mu
Down in the rivers and lakes, carrying wine as I went—
Those Southern waists so slim and light within my grasp.
Waking up from my ten-year sleep, from Yangzhou dreams,
I’ve won in the pleasure quarter the name of a fickle lover.
遣怀
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。
294. Autumn Night, Du Mu
The silver candle’s an autumn light for the chilly screen—
I have a small gauze fan in fireflies aflutter.
The nighttime scene of stairs outside is cool like water.
I sit and watch the stars of Weaver-girl and Cowherd.
秋夕
银烛秋光冷画屏，
轻罗小扇扑流萤。
天阶夜色凉如水，
坐看牵牛织女星。
The screen is a painted room divider. The festival of the 7th night of the 7th (lunar) month commemorates the one night of the year the Cowherd (Altair) and the Weaver-girl of Heaven (Vega) can meet, via a bridge made of magpies flying over the river of the Milky Way. (Note that the stairs can be understood as being “under” or “in” the sky.) The indoor setting, the fan, and the romantic context suggest a female speaker.
295. Presented at Parting 1, Du Mu
Graceful and slender, no longer thirteen,
A cardamom tip in the early spring.
Ten li of spring breezes on Yangzhou Road:
Roll up each bead curtain—none will be better.
赠别之一
娉娉袅袅十三余，
豆蔻梢头二月初。
春风十里扬州路，
卷上珠帘总不如。
First of a two-poem series written for a singer he had previously gotten to know five years before, when she was thirteen. At the start of the second lunar month (the literal season given) in the Yangzi delta, cardamom is budding and about to bloom—and indeed, “cardamom bud” is an idiom for a budding beauty. The spring breezes are courtesans, and the bead curtains are on their windows.
296. Presented at Parting 2, Du Mu
I feel so much, although I seem unfeeling:
I wake by the wine-jar, but I cannot smile.
This candle with a heart is reluctant to part—
It takes my place and drips down tears till dawn.
赠别之二
多情却似总无情，
唯觉樽前笑不成。
蜡烛有心还惜别，
替人垂泪到天明。
“Wick” and “heart” are homophones (xīn).
297. Golden Valley Garden, Du Mu
Luxurious things fall apart, chasing the fragrant dust;
The waters flow unfeeling, grasses green on their own;
In dusk’s east wind, the cries of some resentful birds;
The falling petals: just like she who jumped from this tower.
金谷园
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。
The garden was the extravagant Luoyang estate of Northern Jin Dynasty minister Shi Chong. His concubine Lüzhu was accused of unfaithfulness as part of a political plot by his rival, and to prove her innocence she suicided by jumping.
298. Sent North on a Rainy Night, Li Shangyin
You ask when I’ll return—the when is not yet set.
Night rains on Sichuan mountains swell the autumn pools.
When shall we trim the wick of our west window candle
While I describe night rains on Sichuan mountains?
夜雨寄北
君问归期未有期，
巴山夜雨涨秋池。
何当共剪西窗烛，
却话巴山夜雨时。
Written to his wife while serving as a staff administrator for a military commissioner in eastern Sichuan.
299. Sent to Director Linghu, Li Shangyin
The Mt Song clouds and trees of Qin are far apart—
So far remote, it took two carp to send your letter.
Don’t ask about my visiting Liang Park again:
Xiangru lies ill in autumn showers in Maoling.
寄令狐郎中
嵩云秦树久离居，
双鲤迢迢一纸书。
休问梁园旧宾客，
茂陵秋雨病相如。
Linghu Tao was a friend and influential official. Mt Song is near Luoyang (where Li Shangyin was stationed) and the former kingdom of Qin included the Chang’an capital (where Linghu was). That these cities are only 230 miles apart, straight up the Yellow River, signals that Li’s being just a touch self-dramatizing. A carp was a standard literary symbol for a messenger with a letter (and sometimes the letter itself). The last line is a classic example of Li’s use of allusions: Sima Xiangru, one of the greatest poets of the Western Han dynasty, died in exile at Maoling (the site of the mausoleum of Han Emperor Wu) after a long illness—in other words, Li is claiming that he too is ill (and that he too is a great poet and in exile). These kinds of vivid details, presented without transition or explanation, is characteristic of Li and requires a lot of endnoting.
300. Because She Has, Li Shangyin
Because she has unbounded beauty behind this mica screen,
In Phoenix City at winter’s end she dreads spring nights:
For no good reason married to a gold-tortoise husband
Who fails her perfumed quilt, attending morning court.
为有
为有云屏无限娇，
凤城寒尽怕春宵。
无端嫁得金龟婿，
辜负香衾事早朝。
Phoenix City is the capital, and golden tortoises were embroidered on the court robes of high-ranked officials. Spring is dreaded because morning, when he leaves their bed, comes earlier.
301. Sui Palace, Li Shangyin
He rambled the South on impulse, without strong precautions—
Who would, in these nine-layer walls, admonish him?
In spring winds, all the nation cut up royal brocades:
Half made into saddle mud-guards, half into sails.
隋宫
乘兴南游不戒严，
九重谁省谏书函。
春风举国裁宫锦，
半作障泥半作帆。
Ancient history infodump: Sui Emperor Yang had a lavish palace in Yangzhou (“nine-layer” was a conventional descriptor of an imperial palace, referring to the walls). He was, to put it mildly, extravagant and self-indulgent: when he traveled around the region, abducting women, he didn’t like an encumbering entourage, and more than once criticism by officials was met with death sentences.
302. Jasper Lake, Li Shangyin
At Jasper Lake, Queen Mother opens her fine window.
His “Yellow Bamboo” song—it moves the mournful earth;
His eight fine steeds traverse thousands of miles a day—
So what’s the reason King Mu doesn’t come again?
瑶池
瑶池阿母绮窗开，
黄竹歌声动地哀。
八骏日行三万里，
穆王何事不重来。
Mythology infodump: Jasper Lake in the Kunlun mountains was the dwelling place of the goddess Queen Mother of the West. Mu was a real king of the Zhou dynasty; according to later legends, in the mid-900s BCE he traveled around the world with his 8 supernaturally fast horses (here, literally traveling 30,000 li a day, or 6000 miles), along the way visiting and having a fling with the Queen Mother. On his way home, he supposedly saw Yellow Bamboo village starving in a famine and sang an elegy for it. He promised to return to her in three years but died before doing so.
303. Chang’e, Li Shangyin
The candle’s shadows deepen on the mica screen—
The River of Stars slowly lowers, the Dawn Star sinks.
Chang’e surely regrets stealing the potion of life:
Green skies, blue seas, night after night within her heart.
嫦娥
云母屏风烛影深，
长河渐落晓星沈。
嫦娥应悔偷灵药，
碧海青天夜夜心。
Another mythology infodump: Chang’e stole a potion (or pill) of immortality given to her husband and fled to the moon, where she remained exiled as the Moon Goddess.
304. Sir Jia, Li Shangyin
The palace needed talent, but demoted this official:
Sir Jia was capable indeed—and more, without a peer.
So what a pity: modest now before the throne at midnight,
The emperor ignores the people, asking of ghosts and gods.
贾生
宣室求贤访逐臣，
贾生才调更无伦。
可怜夜半虚前席，
不问苍生问鬼神。
Another ancient history infodump: the capable official and scholar Jia Yi was demoted to a provincial office for submitting a memo criticising Han Emperor Wen. He was later summoned back to the capital not to reinstate him but rather for a late-night consultation on how to raise spirits. The incident is a common idiom for a missed opportunity.
305. Jade Se Complaint, Wen Tingyun
Ice mat and silvered bed—I can’t start dreaming.
Jade sky like water—nighttime clouds are soft.
Far wild geese call, heading for Xiangjiang River.
Within the twelve towers, moonlight shines alone.
瑶瑟怨
冰簟银床梦不成，
碧天如水夜云轻。
雁声远过潇湘去，
十二楼中月自明。
The se is an ancient zither with between 25–50 strings and moveable bridges—ancestor of both the qin and zheng; it and its jade inlay suggest an elegant setting. The implied speaker is a woman lying awake with longing. That her quarters have 12 towers on the grounds is probably rhetorical exaggeration. The river is in Hunan.
306. Mawei Hill, Zheng Tian
Xuanzong returns by horse, his Yang-fei dead,
Their rain-clouds hard to forget in days to come.
Thus the enlightened son of heaven ends it:
Who would repeat the Jingyang Palace well?
马嵬坡
玄宗回马杨妃死，
云雨难忘日月新。
终是圣明天子事，
景阳宫井又何人。
Mawei is where Yang Yuhuan Guifei was summarily beheaded by Emperor Xuanzong’s bodyguards as they fled Chang’an ahead of its capture by her adoptive son, the rebel general An Lushan. The second line is literally “clouds (and) rain (will be) hard to forget (in) new suns (and) moons,” a lovely constellation of images—and “clouds (and) rain” is here an idiom for sexual bliss. As the victorious Sui armies closed in, the last emperor of the Chen Dynasty (see #291 above) hid in a palace well with his two favorite concubines.
307. Already Chilly, Han Wo
Outside the jade-green railing an embroidered curtain hangs;
A scarlet-colored screen painted with broken branches;
An eight-foot mat of rushes, a square brocaded cushion:
Already chilly weather, though it’s not yet winter.
已凉
碧阑干外绣帘垂，
猩色屏风画折枝。
八尺龙须方锦褥，
已凉天气未寒时。
The rushes are a type called “dragon whiskers.”
308. A Picture of Nanjing, Wei Zhuang
The river rain is heavy on level river grasses.
Six Dynasties are like a dream—bird calls in sky.
The most unfeeling is this willow in Taicheng.
Unchanging mist still covers the three miles of dyke.
金陵图
江雨霏霏江草齐，
六朝如梦鸟空啼。
无情最是台城柳，
依旧烟笼十里堤。
The Six Dynasties were, during the Northern and Southern Dynasties period of disunity between the Han and Sui empires, the southern ones all having their capital in what’s now Nanjing. Taicheng was the imperial palace for most of the six. The 3 miles (5 km) is literally 10 li.
309. Longxi Journey, Chen Tao
Sworn to sweep away the Xiongnu, not caring for their lives,
Five-thousand sable uniforms lay dead in the dust of the Hu.
Have pity on these bones upon the bank of Shifting River—
They still are the people dreamt of in the women’s quarters.
陇西行
誓扫匈奴不顾身，
五千貂锦丧胡尘。
可怜无定河边骨，
犹是深闺梦里人。
This refers to an infamous 104 BCE defeat by Xiongnu steppe nomads in a battle by the Wuding (“unfixed”) River in northern Shaanxi. Xiongnu and Hu are technically different peoples, but as mentioned before, the terms for non-Han outside the empire sometimes get tossed around carelessly. Lost in translation: the uniforms are named indirectly as “sable-fur (and) brocade,” which were used in the uniforms of elite soldiers.
Longxi of the title is, FWIW, in eastern Gansu, a fair distance away from the battlefield—this was originally part of a four-poem sequence written while traveling there.
310. Sent to Someone, Zhang Bi
After leaving, I dreamed I traveled to Xie House—
The small veranda twisting round, the railing askew.
In the spring courtyard there was only the bright moon:
It’s like my distant one’s a painting of falling flowers.
寄人
别梦依依到谢家，
小廊回合曲阑斜。
多情只有春庭月，
犹为离人照落花。
Context strongly suggests he’s writing to a lover.
311. Miscellaneous Poem, Anonymous
It’s almost Cold Food Day—the plants grow lush in the rain—
The wind blows through the wheat-sprouts—willows lean on the dyke.
Like me, you have a home, but I cannot go back:
Cuckoo, stop crying “Quickly return!” beside my ear!
杂诗
尽寒食雨草萋萋，
著麦苗风柳映堤。
等是有家归未得，
杜鹃休向耳边啼。
Cold Food Day (see #274) is in early April. The conventional onomatopoeia for the cuckoo’s call (not given in the original) sounds like “quickly return”.
312. Weicheng Song, Wang Wei
A Weicheng dawn, rain gently dampens the dust—
The tavern’s green with willows freshly colored.
I urge you, drain another cup of wine:
Out west, beyond Yang Pass, there’s no old friends.
渭城曲
渭城朝雨浥轻尘，
客舍青青柳色新。
劝君更尽一杯酒，
西出阳关无故人。
On to the folk-song-style poems that also happen to be four seven-character lines, similar to the group at the end of part 7 starting with #253—and as with those, in some editions, these are included with the other seven-character folk-song-style poems.
Weicheng (“city on the Wei”) was a few kilometers west/upstream of Chang’an. The willows imply a parting, confirmed in the next lines. Yang Pass, on the Silk Road near Dunhuang, Gansu, somewhat to the west, was the border between the central and frontier provinces.
313. Autumn Night Song, Wang Wei
The moon’s just visible, the autumn dew is sparse—
Light silk’s too thin but I’ve not yet put on more clothes.
Night deepens, I repeatedly pluck my silver zheng:
Heart dreads that empty room—I cannot bear to return.
秋夜曲
桂魄初生秋露微，
轻罗已薄未更衣。
银筝夜久殷勤弄，
心怯空房不忍归。
The implied speaker is (again) a lonely woman, one who’s avoiding her bedroom. A zheng is a zither with movable bridges (like a koto). Lost in translation: it’s literally the “cassia [on the moon] ’s soul” that’s just visible—basically a poeticism for the moon itself.
314. Complaint of Eternal Truth Pavilion, Wang Changling
We sweep the courtyard clean, and then the Gold Hall opens;
Holding our round fans, we pace back and forth.
My jade face isn’t even worth a jackdaw’s mug—
For that one can at least reach where the clear sun comes.
长信怨
奉帚平明金殿开，
且将团扇共徘徊。
玉颜不及寒鸦色，
犹带昭阳日影来。
This incorporates quotations from poems by Zhao Feiyan, a consort of Han Emperor Cheng, who though a great beauty of the imperial harem eventually fell out of favor through court intrigue. The speaker is, like her, an imperial concubine and sunlight stands for the emperor’s favor.
315. Beyond the Border, Wang Changling
In Qin times, same bright moon—in Han times, same frontier—
A long march of ten-thousand li, no men return.
If only Dragon City’s Flying General were here:
He’d not permit Hu horses to cross the Shadow Mountains.
出塞
秦时明月汉时关，
万里长征人未还。
但使龙城飞将在，
不教胡马渡阴山。
At the time, the frontier of the Great Wall passed along the southern range of the Shadow (Yin) Mountains crossing the Ordos Loop in Inner Mongolia. The Flying General was Li Guang (d.119 BCE), who won several important defensive victories against the feared Xiongnu (who, again, actually weren’t the same people as the Hu).
316. Beyond the Border, Wang Zihuan
The distant Yellow River. Above, a gap in white clouds.
A single lonely city wall in towering mountains.
A Qiang flute—who’s complaining with that willow song?
The spring winds still aren’t blowing through the Jade Gate Pass.
出塞
黄河远上白云间，
一片孤城万仞山。
羌笛何须怨杨柳，
春风不度玉门关。
This is also known as "Liangzhou Song" (that being a garrison in central Gansu), and was originally the first of a two-poem sequence. The mountains are literally "10,000 ren" or about 80,000 feet high. The Qiang are a non-Han people (first met in #259) now mainly living in northern Sichuan but formerly ranging into Gansu and Qinghai provinces; the flute associated with them is a transverse bamboo model. The song is a popular one about parting in springtime. Jade Gate Pass in western Gansu (see #277) was where the Silk Road passed around the far western end of the Great Wall, and the wind is a symbol for attention (in the way of support) from the central government.
317. To the Tune of “Pure Peace” 1, Li Bai
Clouds want her clothing, flowers want her countenance—
The spring winds stroke the railing where the bright dew’s thick.
If we can’t glimpse her upon the top of Qunyu Mountain,
Then we can face Jade Terrace and meet her beneath the moon.
清平调之一
云想衣裳花想容，
春风拂槛露华浓。
若非群玉山头见，
会向瑶台月下逢。
This and the next two were composed impromptu at a flower-viewing party attended by Emperor Xuanzong and Yang Yuhuan Guifei, where they were sung by Li Guinian (see #271). As such, all three are bald flattery—and strikingly beautiful songs that became wildly popular. Jade Terrace on Mt Qunyu is the residence of the Queen Mother of the West (see also #302).
318. To the Tune of “Pure Peace” 2, Li Bai
A branch of crimson splendor, fragrant, thick with dew—
Rain-clouds upon Mt Wu and broken hearts are in vain.
I ask you, who in the Han palace could compare?
No, pity Feiyan, who had to use fresh makeup.
清平调之二
一枝红艳露凝香，
云雨巫山枉断肠。
借问汉宫谁得似，
可怜飞燕倚新妆。
The crimson branch is understood as the red flowers of tree peonies. “Rain (and) clouds” is, as in #306, an idiom for having sex, and Mt Wu in western Hubei was reputed to be a home for beautiful fairies. Like the present empress consort, Consort Zhao Feiyan (see #314) also monopolized her husband’s attention (for a time).
319. To the Tune of “Pure Peace” 3, Li Bai
Such flowers and devastating beauty both bring joy—
And always make their ruler gaze on them with a smile.
To dispel the springtime wind’s unbounded resentment,
North of Aloeswood Pavilion, they lean on the railing.
清平调之三
名花倾国两相欢，
常得君王带笑看。
解释春风无限恨，
沈香亭北倚阑干。
Still with the tree peonies, this time directly comparing them to Yang Guifei, who is described as a “kingdom-wrecker” level of beauty without the irony of historical hindsight. The last line is sometimes understood as the couple leaning on the railing to pick flowers.
320. Gold-Threaded Robe, Du Qiuniang
I urge my lord, don’t cherish this gold-threaded robe—
I urge my lord to cherish now the years of youth.
When blossoms can be picked, you must just pick them—
Don’t wait till there’s no flowers to pick the empty branch.
金缕衣
劝君莫惜金缕衣，
劝君惜取少年时。
花开堪折直须折，
莫待无花空折枝。
Last in the collection is the only poem attributed to a woman, which is addressed as a concubine to her husband. The titular robe stands for pursuing an official career. (FWIW, while a military governor, he rebelled against the emperor and was executed, after which she was made an imperial concubine.) It’s easy to read this as urging him to cherish his own youth, but given he was likely rather older than her, I hear cherishing her youth as an undertone.
And with that, I’ve run out of four-line poems. Time to tackle longer things.
---L.
Index of Chinese translations