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larryhammerIn the spring of 758 the imperial court of China, now under Emperor Suzong, returned to Chang’an after its recapture from the rebel forces of An Lushan. To celebrate one of the first dawn court audiences in the imperial palace, Jia Zhi, an official high enough in the Secretariat to attend, wrote a poem. An auspicious thing to do—and a sensible move, careerwise.
And then a couple poets “matched” Jia’s poem, some of whom you may recognize: Cen Can, Du Fu, and Wang Wei. “Matching” (sometimes translated as “harmonizing”) was a poetry game where you respond to someone else’s poem, usually using the same rhyme-words. Sometimes, as in all three of these, they use different rhymes and so are only “matching” the content, not the form. All of them are also looking to their careers, each in his own way.
I can’t tell the order the responses were written, or even if they were done together, but Cen and Du were friends, and Wang and Du have details in common that the other poems don’t, suggesting one of them had read the other’s. Beyond that, I’m purely guessing at a reading sequence. FWIW, my base text for 300 Tang Poems puts Cen’s before Wang’s (the other two aren’t included), but said text pays more attention to date of birth than of composition.
Early Morning Court at Daming Palace, Presented to Colleagues in the Two Bureaus, Jia Zhi
Silvery candles, misty heavens, purple lanes are long.
Forbidden City looks like spring, the daybreak deep, deep green.
Thousands of graceful willow ribbons are layers of green stripes—
Hundreds of flowing oriole songs encircle Jianzhang Palace.
The swords and pendants clink with every step in the Jade Courtyard.
In robe and cap, I must resist the smoke of incense burners.
All cleanse themselves in merciful waves above the Phoenix Pool.
Dawn audience: I ink my brush, attend my lord and ruler.
Early Morning Court at Daming Palace, Respectfully Matching Middle Secretary Jia Zhi’s Poem, Cen Can
Cocks crow—upon the purple lanes, the light of dawn is cold.
Orioles sing—within the capital, spring’s at its limit.
From golden towers, the daybreak bells throw wide ten-thousand doors.
On the jade stairs, Immortal Arms hold back a thousand officials—
The flowers welcome swords and pendants—stars begin to fall—
The willows shake at feathered banners—dew is not yet dry.
There’s only this: a visitor above Paired-Phoenix Pool,
His “Sunny Spring” a song that’s hard for anyone to match.
Early Morning Court at Daming Palace, Respectfully Matching Secretary Jia Zhi’s Poem, Du Fu
The fifth night-watch—drips push the water-clock to point to dawn.
Within the palace walls, the spring seems drunk on Immortal Peaches.
The sun is warm on feathered banners—snakes and dragons flutter.
Wind’s gentle in the hall—swallows and sparrows fly aloft.
Court finishes, the smoke of incense carried by filled sleeves.
Your poem’s complete, like pearls and jades beneath a moving brush.
I long to hear that generations wear your fine silk tassels—
Henceforth above that pool will always be your phoenix feathers.
Early Morning Court at Daming Palace, Matching the Poem Written by Secretary Jia, Wang Wei
Red-turbaned rooster men have sent away the dawn-watch token.
Men of the chamber two-by-two advance with green cloud furs.
The main gate of the Ninth-most Heaven opens up the palace—
The robes and caps of ten-thousand lands bow to the jade-fringed hat.
Day’s face, the talented approach—Immortal Palms are waving.
The smoke of incense crowds up close—the dragon robes are floating.
Court finishes, and you must shape the five-colored decree:
The clinks of pendants go back to the head of Phoenix Pool.
早朝大明宫呈两省僚友
银烛熏天紫陌长，
禁城春色晓苍苍。
千条弱柳垂青琐，
百啭流莺绕建章。
剑佩声随玉墀步，
衣冠身惹御炉香。
共沐恩波凤池上，
朝朝染翰侍君王。
奉和中书舍人贾至早朝大明宫
鸡鸣紫陌曙光寒，
莺啭皇州春色阑。
金阙晓钟开万户，
玉阶仙仗拥千官。
花迎剑佩星初落，
柳拂旌旗露未乾。
独有凤凰池上客，
阳春一曲和皆难。
奉和贾至舍人早朝大明宫
五夜漏声催晓箭，
九重春色醉仙桃。
旌旗日暖龙蛇动，
宫殿风微燕雀高。
朝罢香烟携满袖，
诗成珠玉在挥毫。
欲知世掌丝纶美，
池上于今有凤毛。
和贾舍人早朝大明宫之作
绛帻鸡人送晓筹，
尚衣方进翠云裘。
九天阊阖开宫殿，
万国衣冠拜冕旒。
日色才临仙掌动，
香烟欲傍衮龙浮。
朝罢须裁五色诏，
佩声归向凤池头。
Jia: Daming (“great radiance”) Palace was the emperor’s main residence. The two bureaus are the Secretariat and Chancellery, which were two of the three main branches (along with the six Ministries) of the government. The ordinary day of court business started with a dawn audience with the emperor, including a procession of the officials attending. The “pendants” are tokens of office hung from the belt. Phoenix Pool was more properly Paired-Phoenix Pool, but the short form lets Jia pun on a type of ink-stone—yeah, he’s totally a scribe.
Cen: The Immortal Arms are the ceremonial pole-arms of the imperial guard, which block the procession of officials until the emperor is ready to start the audience. The banners carried by the imperial guard were decorated with kingfisher feathers. The “visitor” is Jia Zhi, and “Sunny Spring” is the name of an ancient song his poem is being flatteringly compared to.
Du: Water-clocks with dials were used to tell time since at least the Han Dynasty. The Peaches of Immortality were grown and eaten by the gods. Idiom: the palace walls are literally “nine-layered.” The dragons and snakes are designs on the imperial banners. The silk tassels are part of Jia’s uniform of office, and Du is loading up the flattery with a wish that he’ll be able to pass his office to his descendants. Flattery was important for him at the time, as he was having a rough go at being a court official, being the sort to take to take his job description literally rather than being a courtier: 300TP #99 is Cen warning him about this. He’d be demoted away from court in a few months (see 300TP #108).
Wang: Wang’s title is less honorific than Cen and Du, in part because he’s closer in rank to Jia. That said, he wrote it while out of office because he’d been held captive by An Lushan’s forces and his loyalty was still suspect. (Du had been in the same boat, but had managed to overcome this before the court returned to Chang’an.) As such, this poem is currying favor even harder, if less explicitly, than the other two. Red turbans were worn by the imperial household guards (and I’m bemused to see Wang Wei, of all people, jokingly compare their appearance to the combs of chickens), and night watchmen kept track of their watches with tally-sticks, ending with one for the dawn hour. The emperor’s ceremonial headdress had a veil-like beaded fringe in front and back, his robes were decorated with dragons, and the Immortal Palms are his ceremonial fans. Imperial decrees were written on five-color paper (or at least that’s what the type of paper was called) based on what was dictated during the audience.
---L.
Index of Chinese translations
Subject quote from The Fall of Rome, W.H. Auden.
And then a couple poets “matched” Jia’s poem, some of whom you may recognize: Cen Can, Du Fu, and Wang Wei. “Matching” (sometimes translated as “harmonizing”) was a poetry game where you respond to someone else’s poem, usually using the same rhyme-words. Sometimes, as in all three of these, they use different rhymes and so are only “matching” the content, not the form. All of them are also looking to their careers, each in his own way.
I can’t tell the order the responses were written, or even if they were done together, but Cen and Du were friends, and Wang and Du have details in common that the other poems don’t, suggesting one of them had read the other’s. Beyond that, I’m purely guessing at a reading sequence. FWIW, my base text for 300 Tang Poems puts Cen’s before Wang’s (the other two aren’t included), but said text pays more attention to date of birth than of composition.
Early Morning Court at Daming Palace, Presented to Colleagues in the Two Bureaus, Jia Zhi
Silvery candles, misty heavens, purple lanes are long.
Forbidden City looks like spring, the daybreak deep, deep green.
Thousands of graceful willow ribbons are layers of green stripes—
Hundreds of flowing oriole songs encircle Jianzhang Palace.
The swords and pendants clink with every step in the Jade Courtyard.
In robe and cap, I must resist the smoke of incense burners.
All cleanse themselves in merciful waves above the Phoenix Pool.
Dawn audience: I ink my brush, attend my lord and ruler.
Early Morning Court at Daming Palace, Respectfully Matching Middle Secretary Jia Zhi’s Poem, Cen Can
Cocks crow—upon the purple lanes, the light of dawn is cold.
Orioles sing—within the capital, spring’s at its limit.
From golden towers, the daybreak bells throw wide ten-thousand doors.
On the jade stairs, Immortal Arms hold back a thousand officials—
The flowers welcome swords and pendants—stars begin to fall—
The willows shake at feathered banners—dew is not yet dry.
There’s only this: a visitor above Paired-Phoenix Pool,
His “Sunny Spring” a song that’s hard for anyone to match.
Early Morning Court at Daming Palace, Respectfully Matching Secretary Jia Zhi’s Poem, Du Fu
The fifth night-watch—drips push the water-clock to point to dawn.
Within the palace walls, the spring seems drunk on Immortal Peaches.
The sun is warm on feathered banners—snakes and dragons flutter.
Wind’s gentle in the hall—swallows and sparrows fly aloft.
Court finishes, the smoke of incense carried by filled sleeves.
Your poem’s complete, like pearls and jades beneath a moving brush.
I long to hear that generations wear your fine silk tassels—
Henceforth above that pool will always be your phoenix feathers.
Early Morning Court at Daming Palace, Matching the Poem Written by Secretary Jia, Wang Wei
Red-turbaned rooster men have sent away the dawn-watch token.
Men of the chamber two-by-two advance with green cloud furs.
The main gate of the Ninth-most Heaven opens up the palace—
The robes and caps of ten-thousand lands bow to the jade-fringed hat.
Day’s face, the talented approach—Immortal Palms are waving.
The smoke of incense crowds up close—the dragon robes are floating.
Court finishes, and you must shape the five-colored decree:
The clinks of pendants go back to the head of Phoenix Pool.
早朝大明宫呈两省僚友
银烛熏天紫陌长，
禁城春色晓苍苍。
千条弱柳垂青琐，
百啭流莺绕建章。
剑佩声随玉墀步，
衣冠身惹御炉香。
共沐恩波凤池上，
朝朝染翰侍君王。
奉和中书舍人贾至早朝大明宫
鸡鸣紫陌曙光寒，
莺啭皇州春色阑。
金阙晓钟开万户，
玉阶仙仗拥千官。
花迎剑佩星初落，
柳拂旌旗露未乾。
独有凤凰池上客，
阳春一曲和皆难。
奉和贾至舍人早朝大明宫
五夜漏声催晓箭，
九重春色醉仙桃。
旌旗日暖龙蛇动，
宫殿风微燕雀高。
朝罢香烟携满袖，
诗成珠玉在挥毫。
欲知世掌丝纶美，
池上于今有凤毛。
和贾舍人早朝大明宫之作
绛帻鸡人送晓筹，
尚衣方进翠云裘。
九天阊阖开宫殿，
万国衣冠拜冕旒。
日色才临仙掌动，
香烟欲傍衮龙浮。
朝罢须裁五色诏，
佩声归向凤池头。
Jia: Daming (“great radiance”) Palace was the emperor’s main residence. The two bureaus are the Secretariat and Chancellery, which were two of the three main branches (along with the six Ministries) of the government. The ordinary day of court business started with a dawn audience with the emperor, including a procession of the officials attending. The “pendants” are tokens of office hung from the belt. Phoenix Pool was more properly Paired-Phoenix Pool, but the short form lets Jia pun on a type of ink-stone—yeah, he’s totally a scribe.
Cen: The Immortal Arms are the ceremonial pole-arms of the imperial guard, which block the procession of officials until the emperor is ready to start the audience. The banners carried by the imperial guard were decorated with kingfisher feathers. The “visitor” is Jia Zhi, and “Sunny Spring” is the name of an ancient song his poem is being flatteringly compared to.
Du: Water-clocks with dials were used to tell time since at least the Han Dynasty. The Peaches of Immortality were grown and eaten by the gods. Idiom: the palace walls are literally “nine-layered.” The dragons and snakes are designs on the imperial banners. The silk tassels are part of Jia’s uniform of office, and Du is loading up the flattery with a wish that he’ll be able to pass his office to his descendants. Flattery was important for him at the time, as he was having a rough go at being a court official, being the sort to take to take his job description literally rather than being a courtier: 300TP #99 is Cen warning him about this. He’d be demoted away from court in a few months (see 300TP #108).
Wang: Wang’s title is less honorific than Cen and Du, in part because he’s closer in rank to Jia. That said, he wrote it while out of office because he’d been held captive by An Lushan’s forces and his loyalty was still suspect. (Du had been in the same boat, but had managed to overcome this before the court returned to Chang’an.) As such, this poem is currying favor even harder, if less explicitly, than the other two. Red turbans were worn by the imperial household guards (and I’m bemused to see Wang Wei, of all people, jokingly compare their appearance to the combs of chickens), and night watchmen kept track of their watches with tally-sticks, ending with one for the dawn hour. The emperor’s ceremonial headdress had a veil-like beaded fringe in front and back, his robes were decorated with dragons, and the Immortal Palms are his ceremonial fans. Imperial decrees were written on five-color paper (or at least that’s what the type of paper was called) based on what was dictated during the audience.
---L.
Index of Chinese translations
Subject quote from The Fall of Rome, W.H. Auden.
no subject
Date: 26 July 2022 10:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 26 July 2022 11:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 27 July 2022 02:49 am (UTC)I am reminded of the colour names for various modern Japanese traditional steel tools; it's got nothing to do with the appearance of the steel and everything to do with the traditional wrapping paper.
no subject
Date: 27 July 2022 04:00 pm (UTC)