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larryhammerBruh. Finally. The last thirteen. Not the last of all ghost poets, mind, but the last in this collection within Complete Tang Poems. Fair warning, btw: this installment includes fragments included to be complete (Complete is right there on the tin, after all) which the editors dumped on pushed to the end to keep them out of the way of fuller episodes. IOW there’s some cryptic bits—or rather, even more cryptic than usual.
Highlights include another notorious imperial consort of history who meets a living guy and then sleeps with him in a way that’s totally not wish-fulfillment no-sirree nope nuh-uh, an imperial consort of history who meets a living guy and then doesn’t sleep with him but rather becomes a Daoist immortal with his aid, a couple different types of concubines, and a second singing courtesan. (I’m surprised there aren’t more courtesan ghosts, actually, given how many of the known female poets of history were in the trade.)
Also, this has my favorite poem-as-poetry of this collection. I was surprised by it, actually. And the faster I get to the poems, the faster you’ll get to it:
Poems of an Afterlife Encounter, together with Yan Jun, Chen Palace Imperial Consorts
Composed by Principal Consort Zhang
Bleak terrace in the autumn grass, the sounds of crickets at night—
The poplar trees have fully withered, the mournful winds die off.
The many-colored note was torn, and it deceived Jiang Zong.
The fine pavilion vanished into dust—the jade trees empty.
Composed by Consort Kong
A precious pavilion lined with clouds, worthy for seeing immortals—
Five-colored clouds, lofty and splendid, clasping the daybreak sky.
Qing Creek is just like, at that time, there was a shining moon
And in response exquisite flowers burst forth a lavish feast.
Composed by Youfang
The sky’s white orb starts round, but then resents the ladies fair—
The many blooms, a gaudy crowd, are in the end like what?
The Southern Courts, although there was the water of the Yanzi,
Just as of old, before their gateway, it makes passing waves.
Jun’s Poem
A peaceful song to flutes and pipes—I hate the beautiful blossoms.
Cold moonlight on the autumn river—the patterned shutter’s tilted.
Ashamed of slanders on their last ruler, I scribe a verse as a guest—
I ought to see the flowers on Approaching Spring Pavilion.
与颜浚冥会诗
作者：陈宫妃嫔
〈会昌中，进士颜浚下第，游广陵，同载有青衣，年二十许，自云姓赵，名幼芳。临别，期之中元游瓦官阁，当一会神仙中人。浚如言果往，见美人，及幼芳亦在。美人言：“家在清溪。”邀浚过之，则陈朝张丽华也。须臾，孔贵嫔亦来，问幼芳，乃是丽华侍儿，后为隋宫御女，死于江都之乱者。命酒赋诗。浚因留与丽华同寝，达曙而别。寻其处，地近清溪，乃陈朝宫人墓，浚惨恻而返。〉
秋草荒台响夜蛩，
白杨凋尽减悲风。
彩笺曾擘欺江总，
绮阁尘消玉树空。
〈丽华赋〉
宝阁排云称望仙，
五云高艳拥朝天。
清溪犹有当时月，
应照琼花绽绮筵。
〈贵嫔赋〉
素魄初圆恨翠娥，
繁华浓艳竟如何。
南朝唯有长江水，
依旧门前作逝波。
〈幼芳赋〉
箫管清吟怨丽华，
秋江寒月绮窗斜。
惭非后主题笺客，
得见临春阁上花。
〈浚诗〉
Time for another spot of potted history: the Chen Dynasty, the last of the Southern Dynasties, was conquered by Sui Dynasty forces in 589 to reunify the empire for the first time in three centuries. Consort Zhang and Consort Kong were favorites of the last Chen Emperor, and when Sui forces closed in on his palace between modern Nanjing and Yangzhou, he famously hid with them in a well. Spoiler: this didn’t work. The consorts were blamed for the collapse of his reign and executed by a Sui general, but the deposed emperor lived for another 15 years in captivity. His demotion to un-imperial rank may be why he’s more commonly known by his given name, Shubao, instead of his regnal name, Houzhu.
To clarify some titles, an emperor’s “consort” here translates any of a couple higher ranks of concubines-slash-secondary-wives, distinguished from the “empress” who’s The Official Wife and various lower ranks of “concubines.” At her death, Zhang was Principal Consort (with a literally flowery title: “elegant flower”), and the emperor was considering replacing his current empress with her when the war broke out.
And we finally get to the other major festival of the dead: Zhongyuan aka the Ghost Festival, on the 15th day of the 7th lunar month, during which food was traditionally offered up to one’s ancestors. Unlike during Tomb-Sweeping Festival/Cold Food Day, the ghosts were believed (in both Toaist and Buddhist traditions) to visit and eat the sacrificial meal—very like the Day of the Dead in Mexican Catholicism. (The Japanese version of this is Obon, if that helps.)
I’m intrigued that the narrative stops mentioning the servant, but he apparently tagged along with Jun and joined the poetry slam. I’m assuming he didn’t “lie down together” with Consort Kong and/or the young fragrance, but ya never know. (Yet another thing for next Yuletide.)
Headnote: Same Qing Creek near Nanjing as an earlier poem where we met a ghost who experienced the start of the Chen Dynasty. Same rebellion at Guangling = Jiangdu = Yangzhou as the Linzi County Magistrate, at the fall of the Sui Dynasty, which happened only 30 years after the fall of Chen. Huichang is in Jiangxi, two provinces south of the Jiangsu setting—so there was time to get well acquainted with a fellow-traveler. An immortal’s go-between is a servant of a Daoist immortal who handles their dealings with the mortal world, and yes there’s a specific term for this.
Poems: Jiang Zong was a Chen Dynasty official and poet, who was serving as prime minister when the Sui attacked, a pesky little problem he ignored in favor of partying with the empress in the imperial harem. His incompetence is possibly why he survived the dynasty’s fall by another five years. I haven’t tracked down the incident of the torn note-paper. Youfang’s poem uses a lot of flowery poeticisms—for example, idiom: the ladies fair is literally “kingfisher-green beauty.” The wide and strong-flowing Yanzi is an excellent defensive barrier that many northern armies failed to cross over the millenia. Approaching Spring pavilion was attached to a palace built by the last Chen emperor.
Poem Recited at a Post-Station, Woman of Central Hunan
The red trees drunk on autumn colors,
The emerald stream plucks evening’s strings.
Auspicious times can’t come again:
The winds and rains are deep as years.
驿楼诵诗
作者：湘中女子
〈郑仆射愚尝游湘中，宿于驿楼。夜遇女子诵诗，顷刻不见。〉
红树醉秋色，
碧溪弹夜弦。
佳期不可再，
风雨杳如年。
Questionable translation: commentaries understand 夜 as full “night” instead evening. (Yes, this poem has commentaries, in the plural even, including one that compares it to Poem of Hidden Resentment, which is a couple poems after it the collection.) I prefer evening so that the darkness progresses through the poem. An “auspicious time” is a tryst. It is really striking to see metaphors in a Chinese poem, instead of symbols and explicit similes.
This is my favorite poem-as-poetry of this entire collection.
Poems Revealed after Her Burial, Zhang Taihua
Enduring autumn, I lie alone, cicada hair let down.
Wind rises in the poplar trees—I cannot fall asleep.
I think of those departed days when Jiao Hall girls were pampered—
Tears wet my darkened collar, erode my jade hairpin.
Thanking Li Ruochong
The guard of the talisman hurriedly knocks the bolted door at night—
Complying with the golden book, I leave the Netherworld.
Teacher’s endorsing my promotion—his kindness is not shallow.
Achieving immortality, I’ve nine mistakes endured.
葬后见形诗
作者：孟蜀妃张太华
〈孟昶，广政初，与妃张太华同游青城山丈人观。太华死，即葬其地。数年后，道士李若冲忽见其现形。因吟一诗，恳若冲超拔幽魂，若冲于中元节黄箓斋会，为太华奠长生金简生神玉章得度。梦太华复吟一诗来谢，壁间有黄土书。〉
独卧经秋堕鬓蝉，
白杨风起不成眠。
寻思往日椒房宠，
泪湿夜襟损翠钿。
谢李若冲
符吏匆匆叩夜扃，
便随金简出幽冥。
蒙师荐拔恩非浅，
领得生神九过经。
Meng Chang was the second and final ruler of Later Shu, another of the Ten Kingdoms of the post-Tang period, which like Former Shu was based in Sichuan. He ruled from 934 till he surrendered his kingdom to Song Dynasty forces in 965. Mt. Qingcheng is a mountain sacred to Daoists northwest of Chengdu. The fasters are partaking of a cleansing diet prior to meeting spirits of the dead during the festival. The gold-leaf talisman is a long, narrow strip of beaten gold, in shape reminiscent of the bamboo strips anciently used for writing before the invention of paper, on which a spell has been engraved. A few different jade i.e. precious scriptures on “being born divine” i.e. ascending to immortality have survived. The writings in her grave hint at being further Daoist scriptures.
“Cicada hair” is a type of hairstyle, where the hair is brushed back from the temples in a way said to resemble the thin wings of a cicada then bound up in a complicated bun. Jiao (“pepper-tree”) Hall is a generic name for a residence of imperial concubines. The “guard of the talisman” is a Daoist priest tasked with protecting a sacred talisman. The “nine mistakes” seems to be intentionally obscure.
Responding to Jian’s Poem, Wei Jian’s Deceased Concubine
The spring rains keep on drizzling, I cannot see the sky—
Outside the gate of every house, the willows blend with mist.
Nowadays my gut feels slashed, I drip down tears in vain.
I laugh with joy, again recalling parting’s for just a year.
Appendix
Poem of Jian Mourning His Deceased Concubine
A treasured sword becomes a dragon, returning to the sky—
Chang’e obeys the moon, descending to the Yellow Springs.
With a single cup of wine, I face the green spring evening.
Lonely, I write on the window, I hate sleeping alone.
Inscribed After the Dream
The white waves boundless, ever boundless, go and don’t return—
The floating clouds fly to the end, the sun declines in the west.
Upon the tomb of Qin’s first ruler are thousand-year-old trees—
His silver ducks and golden mallards also turn to dust.
和检诗
作者：韦检亡姬
〈检举进士不第，有美姬捧心而卒，追痛不胜，举酒吟诗。一日忽梦姬，言有后期，遂和前诗。检终日悒悒，更梦姬曰：“即遂相见矣。”觉来，神魂恍惚，复题诗一首。未几，果即世，皆符兆。〉
春雨蒙蒙不见天，
家家门外柳和烟。
如今肠断空垂泪，
欢笑重追别有年。
〈附〉
检悼亡姬诗
宝剑化龙归碧落，
嫦娥随月下黄泉。
一杯酒向青春晚，
寂寞书窗恨独眠。
梦后自题
白浪漫漫去不回，
浮云飞尽日西颓。
始皇陵上千年树，
银鸭金凫也变灰。
An Advanced Scholar “without rank” has passed the imperial exam but without distinction—good enough to be appointed an official but not marked as a rising star. Chang’e is a moon goddess, formerly a mortal but who ascended after stealing the elixir of immortality. First Emperor Shi Huangdi was the founder of the Qin Dynasty and the first emperor of a united China; trees were deliberately planted on his mausoleum to make it look like a natural hill, making them dubious as a symbol of universal decay.
Recited Poems, together with her husband, Su Jian’s Wife
Jian’s Wife
Chu waters flat just like a mirror—
Circling round, the white birds fly.
In Nanjing, how much earth is there?
One left, and his return’s unknown.
Jian
Returning east to Wu, I’m passing through Chengcheng:
Upon the tower, clear breeze and wine—I’m half-awake.
I think I should go home, for spring’s already ending—
Thousands of crab-apples have already withered away.
与夫同咏诗
作者：苏检妻
〈苏检登第归吴，行及澄城，止于县楼上，梦其妻取红笺，剪数寸题诗，检亦裁蜀笺而赋焉。诗成，俱送所卧席下。及卧，果于席下得其诗，视箧中红笺，亦有剪处。归家，妻死已葬矣。问其死日，乃澄城所梦之日。谒其茔，四面多是海棠花也。一作钟辐事，互异。〉
楚水准如镜，
周回白鸟飞。
金陵几多地，
一去不知归。
〈检妻〉
还吴东去过澄城，
楼上清风酒半醒。
想得到家春已暮，
海棠千树已凋零。
〈检〉
The Wu region roughly corresponds to modern Jiangsu, which includes Nanjing. Chengcheng is in Shaanxi, on the road east from Chang’an. Sichuan was famous for making especially fine decorated papers. The bit about the scissors sounds like there was a superstition about keeping scissors in the same place as paper, but I haven’t found anything relevant. Certainly many cultures have bad-luck taboos against certain actions with scissors.
I’ve no idea why the title says the poems were “recited” when the headnote is explicit that they were written down and implies they weren’t shared.
Poems of an Afterlife Encounter, Palace Concubines
Consort Jīng: precious immortal
How could I not meet someone who’d speak with this one?
—This one within the long night, never knowing spring.
For since the realm was ruined and the people scattered,
Even upon Mt. Long, the fragrant grass grows fresh.
Madam Zhang: brilliant realm
Don’t speak of the world of mortals—I hate yearning so.
And more, this honored guest: we must deal with each other.
Even if within the hall there’s thousands of tunes,
Do not on reaching the warmth of spring one ballad sing.
Concubine Jǐng: hibiscus flower
The hidden valley’s withered flowers are like this one’s life.
Even if bearing amorous feelings, I’ll vent without cause.
I’ve much affection for Noble Son—might he visit me?
I must let loose returning winds that briefly borrowed spring.
Kind feelings are not yet enough—the dawn light hastens;
The several sprays of sleeping buds have not yet opened.
Although I envy one or two of those gold bracelets,
I must obey the mortal world and leave for the future.
冥㑹诗
作者：宫嫔
争不逢人话此身，
此身长夜不知春。
自从国破家亡后，
陇上惟添芳草新。
〈京昭仪宝仙〉
休说人间恨恋多，
况逢佳客此相过。
堂中纵有千般乐，
争及阳春一曲歌。
〈张夫人华国〉
幽谷穷花似妾身，
纵怀香艳吐无因。
多情公子能相访，
应解回风暂借春。
〈景才人舜英〉
恩情未足晓光催，
数朵眠花未得开。
却羡一双金扼臂，
得随人世出将来。
Ah, headnote, I hardly knew ye. An ascription for the last poem would also be nice, not to mention an explanation of the topics(?) after the ascriptions we do get.
Consort Jīng (京) has the title for a high-but-not-highest ranking imperial concubine, while Concubine Jǐng (景) has a lower-ranked imperial concubine title. Madam Zhang on the other hand is a Mrs., the wife of someone not royal/noble—so again N high + 1 lower status. Based on other “afterworld encounters,” I would expect the last poem to be by a living person, which its content supports, possibly a man who has just slept with one or more of the concubines. Or maybe, just to be original, a woman—thus the bracelet envy.
Mt. Long is in eastern Gansu, at the border with Shaanxi.
Poem Presented to Peng, Wei Peng’s Wife
My lonely grave looks on the river.
Each day I watch the sun turn dusk—
Pine shadows shake in endless winds
As moonlight falls upon the foothills.
My hometown’s over a thousand li—
I rarely saw my relatives.
I gaze and gaze at cloudy mountains.
I grieve and grieve, my tears like sleet.
I hate I have a foreign tomb
And so return to this strange town:
I long to speak of old Dunchou—
Do not reject this lowly one.
赠朋诗
作者：魏朋妻
〈建州刺史魏朋，辞满后，客居南昌，素无诗思。后遇病，迷惑失心，如有人相引接，忽索笔书诗，诗意如其亡妻以赠朋也。后十馀日，朋卒。〉
孤坟临清江，
每睹白日晚。
松影摇长风，
蟾光落岩甸。
故乡千里馀，
亲戚罕相见。
望望空云山，
哀哀泪如霰。
恨为泉台客，
复此异乡县。
愿言敦畴昔，
勿以弃疵贱。
Jianzhou is modern Jian’ou, Fujian, while Nanchang is the capital of Jiangxi, the province to the west. The implication is that she was buried in the former, and that Dunchou (which I’ve not located) is their original hometown. The sense for lonely grave of “a grave for a married couple where only one is buried because the other is alive” is relevant here.
Inscribed in Mingyue Hall: Two Poems, Deceased Woman of the Liu Family
1.
Startled by autumn in my cicada hair: fresh gray.
How pitiful, this red grudge ends in dirt and dust.
One dreaming by West Mountain—what year will I wake?
In front of Mingyue Hall, I don’t see anyone.
2.
A jade-hook moon—wind rushes—echoing ding-dongs.
I turn to see West Mountain like it’s in a dream.
In front of Mingyue Hall, that person has not come.
Fore-courtyard: one night ages in the autumn wind.
题明月堂二首
作者：刘氏亡妇
[其一]
蝉鬓惊秋华发新，
可怜红隙尽埃尘。
西山一梦何年觉，
明月堂前不见人。
[其二]
玉钩风急响丁东，
回首西山似梦中。
明月堂前人不到，
庭前一夜老秋风。
The last handful-plus poems in the collection are all cryptic or fragmentary, often both, most of them without headnotes. In this case, the author is a daughter-in-law who seems to have died before her husband returned from … whatever took him away. Same cicada-wing hairstyle as previously. For what it’s worth, Mingyue means “bright moon.”
Poem & Jinling Song, Deceased Courtesan of Taicheng
Poem
My moon-song on the jade floor was cut off,
My dance in gold-thread robes was incomplete.
The even hairpins, gathered, burst their bonds
And frowning eyebrows parted many gates.
Its web cut, the spider still keeps weaving,
And don’t spring swallows come back to the bridge?
How can I bear to look back at the river
Landing where the wild-pear petals fly?
Jinling Song
Within the hall, fine plants are damp with fragrant crimson blooms—
Inside the hall, a slender waist weeps by the green screened window.
There are indeed upon the arched beams swallow chicks in spring,
And yet beside the pearl-bead curtain, the jade-hook moon is rising.
作者：故台城妓
〈金陵黄进士梦遇台城故妓，自云今为吴神乐部，其诗云：〉
诗
歌罢玉楼月，
舞残金缕衣。
匀钿收迸节，
敛黛别重闱。
网断蛛犹织，
梁春燕不归。
那堪回首处，
江步野棠飞。
金陵词
宫中细草香红湿，
宫内纤腰碧窗泣。
唯有虹梁春燕雏，
犹傍珠帘玉钩立。
More potted history: Taicheng was the name for China’s southern capital from the Three-Kingdoms-era state of Eastern Wu until the city’s destruction when the Chen Dynasty was conquered by Sui forces. Its courtesans were known for songs describing landscapes, which as a genre influenced early Tang Dynasty poetry. The city was rebuilt as a capital by the Ten-Kingdoms-era state of Yang Wu, which restored its Warring-States-era name Jinling. It was renamed Nanjing during the Ming Dynasty, and normally I’d use the modern name but the headnote is specifically highlighting two eras by using historical names.
The Department of Sacrificial Music was part of the state religious apparatus, in charge of exactly what it says on the tin: providing music during sacrifices. As in many other cultures, higher status courtesans often provided entertainment, including song and dance, to their clients. The many gates are those in the entranceway to the women’s quarters in a palace or estate, and the arched beams are those beneath a traditional rainbow bridge, exactly the sort of place that swallows still love to nest.
Poems, Unnamed Ghost
1.
Boat masts on the river all of a hundred feet—
Tower-tops within the mountains, twelve times over.
Upstairs the mountain monk looks down upon the river,
Points out the masts, and laughing, he then murders me.
2.
Immortals might not easily become immortal,
Yet in the mortal world, the mortals do not know.
Hand grasping his white beard, he follows both the deer—
We meet by chance, and yet he asks me what’s my name.
诗
作者：无名鬼
[其一]
江上樯竿一百尺，
山中楼台十二重。
山僧楼上望江上，
指点樯竿笑杀侬。
[其二]
仙人未必便仙去，
还在人间人不知。
手把白须从两鹿，
相逢却问姓名谁。
Did I mention these last few poems get cryptic? “Feet” translates chǐ, which like pre-modern units of measure everywhere varied somewhat, but the modern definition is a third of a meter. Deer were folklorically thought to live very long lives, and so were a symbol of longevity, so Daoist interest in them is obvious. The bit about following two of them is a confusing bit of Daoist esoterica. I’m guessing at the omitted pronouns to understand (who’s chasing, who’s asking) in the last two lines, but I’m pretty sure it’s two deer being chased, not two chasers.
For your amusement, “Immortals Might Not Easily Become Immortal” is the title of this painting. Well, I’m amused, anyway.
Lines, Nonghua
The cypress hall is newly finished—music hasn’t ended.
Turning to come, turning to go—Pei Lang is perplexed.
句
作者：秾华
〈浚仪王氏，葬其母，有婿裴郎，醉卧棺后，家人不知，遂掩其圹。酒醒，见文柏为堂，群婢连臂踏歌，一婢名秾华，歌云：〉
柏堂新成乐未央，
回来回去绕裴郎。
The former county of Junyi is part of Kaifeng, Henan. As for why the spirit medium (whose name means “lush flower”) gets attribution instead of the ghost, I can only speculate that possibly it’s the ambiguity over whether it’s the matriarch or presumably-now-dead son-in-law who’s speaking through her.
Blackest humor yet, for one of these episodes.
Lines, Zhang Shuozhong
Song of the Butterfly
Su Qin of stingy fate departed each kingdom in turn,
Pan Yue of many feelings cycled through lust and sorrow.
Tonight I roost in the fragrant grass beside the path—
Which summons thoughts of the underworld to sons of lords.
句
作者：张守中
薄命苏秦频去国，
多情潘岳旋兴悲。
今夜若栖芳草径，
为传幽意达王孙。
〈咏蝶〉
Su Qin was a political strategist of the Warring States period, leader of a clique who tried to create an alliance against Qin of the other six remaining states—lots of diplomatic journeys. Pan Yue was a famously good-looking poet of the Jin Dynasty—a reputed veteran of many love affairs. “Descendent of lords” is an honorific, not necessarily a literal.
Lines, Unnamed Ghost
The lilac flowers are half-scattered—
Wind’s in the pines, the night is clear.
句
作者：无名鬼
芫花半落，
松风晚清。
I mentioned these last few ghost poems get fragmentary, yeah? Case in point.
:dusts off hands:
:slumps down on a couch somewhere: :stares at a wall:
---L.
Index of Chinese translations
Highlights include another notorious imperial consort of history who meets a living guy and then sleeps with him in a way that’s totally not wish-fulfillment no-sirree nope nuh-uh, an imperial consort of history who meets a living guy and then doesn’t sleep with him but rather becomes a Daoist immortal with his aid, a couple different types of concubines, and a second singing courtesan. (I’m surprised there aren’t more courtesan ghosts, actually, given how many of the known female poets of history were in the trade.)
Also, this has my favorite poem-as-poetry of this collection. I was surprised by it, actually. And the faster I get to the poems, the faster you’ll get to it:
Poems of an Afterlife Encounter, together with Yan Jun, Chen Palace Imperial Consorts
Advanced Scholar Yan Jun was demoted from Huichang and traveled to Guangling. A fellow passenger was a servant, aged about 20, whose surname was Zhao, given name Youfang. When it was time for them to part, it was the Zhongyuan Festival, and they wandered the Wa Palace pavilion, where they encountered an immortal’s go-between. Jun went to speak with him, and as a result left there and met a beauty along with a ‘young fragrance.’ The beauty said, “My house is at Qing Creek,” and invited Jun to go over there, for she was Chen Dynasty’s Principal Consort Zhang. A moment later, Consort Kong also arrived. He asked about the ‘young fragrance,’ and was told she was the Principal Consort’s maid-servant, who afterward served as a Sui Palace attendant and died in the Jiangdu Rebellion. They arranged for wine and composed poems. [TN: all four poems] Because he remained there, Jun lay down together with the Principal Consort, until daybreak arrived and she departed. He searched for her place in the lands around Qing Creek, but the Chen Palace people were all in their graves. Jun was wretched and sorrowful, and returned.
Composed by Principal Consort Zhang
Bleak terrace in the autumn grass, the sounds of crickets at night—
The poplar trees have fully withered, the mournful winds die off.
The many-colored note was torn, and it deceived Jiang Zong.
The fine pavilion vanished into dust—the jade trees empty.
Composed by Consort Kong
A precious pavilion lined with clouds, worthy for seeing immortals—
Five-colored clouds, lofty and splendid, clasping the daybreak sky.
Qing Creek is just like, at that time, there was a shining moon
And in response exquisite flowers burst forth a lavish feast.
Composed by Youfang
The sky’s white orb starts round, but then resents the ladies fair—
The many blooms, a gaudy crowd, are in the end like what?
The Southern Courts, although there was the water of the Yanzi,
Just as of old, before their gateway, it makes passing waves.
Jun’s Poem
A peaceful song to flutes and pipes—I hate the beautiful blossoms.
Cold moonlight on the autumn river—the patterned shutter’s tilted.
Ashamed of slanders on their last ruler, I scribe a verse as a guest—
I ought to see the flowers on Approaching Spring Pavilion.
与颜浚冥会诗
作者：陈宫妃嫔
〈会昌中，进士颜浚下第，游广陵，同载有青衣，年二十许，自云姓赵，名幼芳。临别，期之中元游瓦官阁，当一会神仙中人。浚如言果往，见美人，及幼芳亦在。美人言：“家在清溪。”邀浚过之，则陈朝张丽华也。须臾，孔贵嫔亦来，问幼芳，乃是丽华侍儿，后为隋宫御女，死于江都之乱者。命酒赋诗。浚因留与丽华同寝，达曙而别。寻其处，地近清溪，乃陈朝宫人墓，浚惨恻而返。〉
秋草荒台响夜蛩，
白杨凋尽减悲风。
彩笺曾擘欺江总，
绮阁尘消玉树空。
〈丽华赋〉
宝阁排云称望仙，
五云高艳拥朝天。
清溪犹有当时月，
应照琼花绽绮筵。
〈贵嫔赋〉
素魄初圆恨翠娥，
繁华浓艳竟如何。
南朝唯有长江水，
依旧门前作逝波。
〈幼芳赋〉
箫管清吟怨丽华，
秋江寒月绮窗斜。
惭非后主题笺客，
得见临春阁上花。
〈浚诗〉
Time for another spot of potted history: the Chen Dynasty, the last of the Southern Dynasties, was conquered by Sui Dynasty forces in 589 to reunify the empire for the first time in three centuries. Consort Zhang and Consort Kong were favorites of the last Chen Emperor, and when Sui forces closed in on his palace between modern Nanjing and Yangzhou, he famously hid with them in a well. Spoiler: this didn’t work. The consorts were blamed for the collapse of his reign and executed by a Sui general, but the deposed emperor lived for another 15 years in captivity. His demotion to un-imperial rank may be why he’s more commonly known by his given name, Shubao, instead of his regnal name, Houzhu.
To clarify some titles, an emperor’s “consort” here translates any of a couple higher ranks of concubines-slash-secondary-wives, distinguished from the “empress” who’s The Official Wife and various lower ranks of “concubines.” At her death, Zhang was Principal Consort (with a literally flowery title: “elegant flower”), and the emperor was considering replacing his current empress with her when the war broke out.
And we finally get to the other major festival of the dead: Zhongyuan aka the Ghost Festival, on the 15th day of the 7th lunar month, during which food was traditionally offered up to one’s ancestors. Unlike during Tomb-Sweeping Festival/Cold Food Day, the ghosts were believed (in both Toaist and Buddhist traditions) to visit and eat the sacrificial meal—very like the Day of the Dead in Mexican Catholicism. (The Japanese version of this is Obon, if that helps.)
I’m intrigued that the narrative stops mentioning the servant, but he apparently tagged along with Jun and joined the poetry slam. I’m assuming he didn’t “lie down together” with Consort Kong and/or the young fragrance, but ya never know. (Yet another thing for next Yuletide.)
Headnote: Same Qing Creek near Nanjing as an earlier poem where we met a ghost who experienced the start of the Chen Dynasty. Same rebellion at Guangling = Jiangdu = Yangzhou as the Linzi County Magistrate, at the fall of the Sui Dynasty, which happened only 30 years after the fall of Chen. Huichang is in Jiangxi, two provinces south of the Jiangsu setting—so there was time to get well acquainted with a fellow-traveler. An immortal’s go-between is a servant of a Daoist immortal who handles their dealings with the mortal world, and yes there’s a specific term for this.
Poems: Jiang Zong was a Chen Dynasty official and poet, who was serving as prime minister when the Sui attacked, a pesky little problem he ignored in favor of partying with the empress in the imperial harem. His incompetence is possibly why he survived the dynasty’s fall by another five years. I haven’t tracked down the incident of the torn note-paper. Youfang’s poem uses a lot of flowery poeticisms—for example, idiom: the ladies fair is literally “kingfisher-green beauty.” The wide and strong-flowing Yanzi is an excellent defensive barrier that many northern armies failed to cross over the millenia. Approaching Spring pavilion was attached to a palace built by the last Chen emperor.
Poem Recited at a Post-Station, Woman of Central Hunan
The servant Zheng was once sent to central Hunan. While lodging in a post-station, he encountered at night a woman who recited a poem, then immediately vanished.
The red trees drunk on autumn colors,
The emerald stream plucks evening’s strings.
Auspicious times can’t come again:
The winds and rains are deep as years.
驿楼诵诗
作者：湘中女子
〈郑仆射愚尝游湘中，宿于驿楼。夜遇女子诵诗，顷刻不见。〉
红树醉秋色，
碧溪弹夜弦。
佳期不可再，
风雨杳如年。
Questionable translation: commentaries understand 夜 as full “night” instead evening. (Yes, this poem has commentaries, in the plural even, including one that compares it to Poem of Hidden Resentment, which is a couple poems after it the collection.) I prefer evening so that the darkness progresses through the poem. An “auspicious time” is a tryst. It is really striking to see metaphors in a Chinese poem, instead of symbols and explicit similes.
This is my favorite poem-as-poetry of this entire collection.
Poems Revealed after Her Burial, Zhang Taihua
In 938, Meng Chang traveled together with his Consort Zhang Taihua to Zhangren Monastery on Mt. Qingcheng. Taihua died there, and was immediately buried. Several years later, Daoist priest Li Ruochong suddenly saw her become visible. Because she recited a poem [TN: first poem], the sincere Ruochong freed himself(?) from the hidden spirit, then went to the gathering of fasters for the Zhongyuan Festival, where they offered up to Taihua a gold-leaf talisman of eternal life and the jade chapter of becoming a god, and she achieved immortality. Taihua returned in a dream and recited a poem giving thanks, (saying) between the walls there were writings in her grave.
Enduring autumn, I lie alone, cicada hair let down.
Wind rises in the poplar trees—I cannot fall asleep.
I think of those departed days when Jiao Hall girls were pampered—
Tears wet my darkened collar, erode my jade hairpin.
Thanking Li Ruochong
The guard of the talisman hurriedly knocks the bolted door at night—
Complying with the golden book, I leave the Netherworld.
Teacher’s endorsing my promotion—his kindness is not shallow.
Achieving immortality, I’ve nine mistakes endured.
葬后见形诗
作者：孟蜀妃张太华
〈孟昶，广政初，与妃张太华同游青城山丈人观。太华死，即葬其地。数年后，道士李若冲忽见其现形。因吟一诗，恳若冲超拔幽魂，若冲于中元节黄箓斋会，为太华奠长生金简生神玉章得度。梦太华复吟一诗来谢，壁间有黄土书。〉
独卧经秋堕鬓蝉，
白杨风起不成眠。
寻思往日椒房宠，
泪湿夜襟损翠钿。
谢李若冲
符吏匆匆叩夜扃，
便随金简出幽冥。
蒙师荐拔恩非浅，
领得生神九过经。
Meng Chang was the second and final ruler of Later Shu, another of the Ten Kingdoms of the post-Tang period, which like Former Shu was based in Sichuan. He ruled from 934 till he surrendered his kingdom to Song Dynasty forces in 965. Mt. Qingcheng is a mountain sacred to Daoists northwest of Chengdu. The fasters are partaking of a cleansing diet prior to meeting spirits of the dead during the festival. The gold-leaf talisman is a long, narrow strip of beaten gold, in shape reminiscent of the bamboo strips anciently used for writing before the invention of paper, on which a spell has been engraved. A few different jade i.e. precious scriptures on “being born divine” i.e. ascending to immortality have survived. The writings in her grave hint at being further Daoist scriptures.
“Cicada hair” is a type of hairstyle, where the hair is brushed back from the temples in a way said to resemble the thin wings of a cicada then bound up in a complicated bun. Jiao (“pepper-tree”) Hall is a generic name for a residence of imperial concubines. The “guard of the talisman” is a Daoist priest tasked with protecting a sacred talisman. The “nine mistakes” seems to be intentionally obscure.
Responding to Jian’s Poem, Wei Jian’s Deceased Concubine
Wei Jian, an Advanced Scholar without rank, had a beautiful concubine who clasped her heart and died. Recalling a sorrow he could not get over, he lifted wine and recited a poem. [TN: read the second poem now] One day, he suddenly dreamed of his concubine, who said that later they’ll have time (together), then she responded to his previous poem. [TN: first poem] Jian spent the days gloomy and depressed, and in another dream, the concubine said, “Soon we’ll meet each other at last.” When he came to, his mind still muzzy, he replied by inscribing a poem. [TN: third poem] Before long, his time came, and everyone marked the omen.
The spring rains keep on drizzling, I cannot see the sky—
Outside the gate of every house, the willows blend with mist.
Nowadays my gut feels slashed, I drip down tears in vain.
I laugh with joy, again recalling parting’s for just a year.
Appendix
Poem of Jian Mourning His Deceased Concubine
A treasured sword becomes a dragon, returning to the sky—
Chang’e obeys the moon, descending to the Yellow Springs.
With a single cup of wine, I face the green spring evening.
Lonely, I write on the window, I hate sleeping alone.
Inscribed After the Dream
The white waves boundless, ever boundless, go and don’t return—
The floating clouds fly to the end, the sun declines in the west.
Upon the tomb of Qin’s first ruler are thousand-year-old trees—
His silver ducks and golden mallards also turn to dust.
和检诗
作者：韦检亡姬
〈检举进士不第，有美姬捧心而卒，追痛不胜，举酒吟诗。一日忽梦姬，言有后期，遂和前诗。检终日悒悒，更梦姬曰：“即遂相见矣。”觉来，神魂恍惚，复题诗一首。未几，果即世，皆符兆。〉
春雨蒙蒙不见天，
家家门外柳和烟。
如今肠断空垂泪，
欢笑重追别有年。
〈附〉
检悼亡姬诗
宝剑化龙归碧落，
嫦娥随月下黄泉。
一杯酒向青春晚，
寂寞书窗恨独眠。
梦后自题
白浪漫漫去不回，
浮云飞尽日西颓。
始皇陵上千年树，
银鸭金凫也变灰。
An Advanced Scholar “without rank” has passed the imperial exam but without distinction—good enough to be appointed an official but not marked as a rising star. Chang’e is a moon goddess, formerly a mortal but who ascended after stealing the elixir of immortality. First Emperor Shi Huangdi was the founder of the Qin Dynasty and the first emperor of a united China; trees were deliberately planted on his mausoleum to make it look like a natural hill, making them dubious as a symbol of universal decay.
Recited Poems, together with her husband, Su Jian’s Wife
Su Jian ranked high on the imperial exams and returned to Wu. Passing through Chengcheng, he stayed in the tower at the county hall. That night, he dreamed his wife took out red note-paper, cut off several inches, and inscribed a poem, while Jian also took Sichuan paper and wrote a poem on this. [TN: read the poems now] Their poems complete, together they lay down where he’d said farewell beneath a woven mat. After they slept, from under the mat he retrieved her poem, and looking within her rattan box at the red paper, (he saw) the scissors were also in there. When he returned home, his wife was dead and already buried. He asked when she died, and it was the day he dreamed of her in Chengcheng, and when he visited her grave, in all four directions there were many flowering crab-apples. This is also given as an incident of Zhong Fu, with differences.
Jian’s Wife
Chu waters flat just like a mirror—
Circling round, the white birds fly.
In Nanjing, how much earth is there?
One left, and his return’s unknown.
Jian
Returning east to Wu, I’m passing through Chengcheng:
Upon the tower, clear breeze and wine—I’m half-awake.
I think I should go home, for spring’s already ending—
Thousands of crab-apples have already withered away.
与夫同咏诗
作者：苏检妻
〈苏检登第归吴，行及澄城，止于县楼上，梦其妻取红笺，剪数寸题诗，检亦裁蜀笺而赋焉。诗成，俱送所卧席下。及卧，果于席下得其诗，视箧中红笺，亦有剪处。归家，妻死已葬矣。问其死日，乃澄城所梦之日。谒其茔，四面多是海棠花也。一作钟辐事，互异。〉
楚水准如镜，
周回白鸟飞。
金陵几多地，
一去不知归。
〈检妻〉
还吴东去过澄城，
楼上清风酒半醒。
想得到家春已暮，
海棠千树已凋零。
〈检〉
The Wu region roughly corresponds to modern Jiangsu, which includes Nanjing. Chengcheng is in Shaanxi, on the road east from Chang’an. Sichuan was famous for making especially fine decorated papers. The bit about the scissors sounds like there was a superstition about keeping scissors in the same place as paper, but I haven’t found anything relevant. Certainly many cultures have bad-luck taboos against certain actions with scissors.
I’ve no idea why the title says the poems were “recited” when the headnote is explicit that they were written down and implies they weren’t shared.
Poems of an Afterlife Encounter, Palace Concubines
Consort Jīng: precious immortal
How could I not meet someone who’d speak with this one?
—This one within the long night, never knowing spring.
For since the realm was ruined and the people scattered,
Even upon Mt. Long, the fragrant grass grows fresh.
Madam Zhang: brilliant realm
Don’t speak of the world of mortals—I hate yearning so.
And more, this honored guest: we must deal with each other.
Even if within the hall there’s thousands of tunes,
Do not on reaching the warmth of spring one ballad sing.
Concubine Jǐng: hibiscus flower
The hidden valley’s withered flowers are like this one’s life.
Even if bearing amorous feelings, I’ll vent without cause.
I’ve much affection for Noble Son—might he visit me?
I must let loose returning winds that briefly borrowed spring.
Kind feelings are not yet enough—the dawn light hastens;
The several sprays of sleeping buds have not yet opened.
Although I envy one or two of those gold bracelets,
I must obey the mortal world and leave for the future.
冥㑹诗
作者：宫嫔
争不逢人话此身，
此身长夜不知春。
自从国破家亡后，
陇上惟添芳草新。
〈京昭仪宝仙〉
休说人间恨恋多，
况逢佳客此相过。
堂中纵有千般乐，
争及阳春一曲歌。
〈张夫人华国〉
幽谷穷花似妾身，
纵怀香艳吐无因。
多情公子能相访，
应解回风暂借春。
〈景才人舜英〉
恩情未足晓光催，
数朵眠花未得开。
却羡一双金扼臂，
得随人世出将来。
Ah, headnote, I hardly knew ye. An ascription for the last poem would also be nice, not to mention an explanation of the topics(?) after the ascriptions we do get.
Consort Jīng (京) has the title for a high-but-not-highest ranking imperial concubine, while Concubine Jǐng (景) has a lower-ranked imperial concubine title. Madam Zhang on the other hand is a Mrs., the wife of someone not royal/noble—so again N high + 1 lower status. Based on other “afterworld encounters,” I would expect the last poem to be by a living person, which its content supports, possibly a man who has just slept with one or more of the concubines. Or maybe, just to be original, a woman—thus the bracelet envy.
Mt. Long is in eastern Gansu, at the border with Shaanxi.
Poem Presented to Peng, Wei Peng’s Wife
After the end of his term as Provincial Governor of Jianzhou, Wei Peng lived abroad in Nanchang, always without a thought of writing poetry. After falling ill, he acted bewildered as though losing his mind, like there was someone guiding him. Suddenly, he demanded a brush and wrote a poem, the sense of which was as if it had been bestowed on him by his dead wife. After ten-plus days, Peng expired.
My lonely grave looks on the river.
Each day I watch the sun turn dusk—
Pine shadows shake in endless winds
As moonlight falls upon the foothills.
My hometown’s over a thousand li—
I rarely saw my relatives.
I gaze and gaze at cloudy mountains.
I grieve and grieve, my tears like sleet.
I hate I have a foreign tomb
And so return to this strange town:
I long to speak of old Dunchou—
Do not reject this lowly one.
赠朋诗
作者：魏朋妻
〈建州刺史魏朋，辞满后，客居南昌，素无诗思。后遇病，迷惑失心，如有人相引接，忽索笔书诗，诗意如其亡妻以赠朋也。后十馀日，朋卒。〉
孤坟临清江，
每睹白日晚。
松影摇长风，
蟾光落岩甸。
故乡千里馀，
亲戚罕相见。
望望空云山，
哀哀泪如霰。
恨为泉台客，
复此异乡县。
愿言敦畴昔，
勿以弃疵贱。
Jianzhou is modern Jian’ou, Fujian, while Nanchang is the capital of Jiangxi, the province to the west. The implication is that she was buried in the former, and that Dunchou (which I’ve not located) is their original hometown. The sense for lonely grave of “a grave for a married couple where only one is buried because the other is alive” is relevant here.
Inscribed in Mingyue Hall: Two Poems, Deceased Woman of the Liu Family
1.
Startled by autumn in my cicada hair: fresh gray.
How pitiful, this red grudge ends in dirt and dust.
One dreaming by West Mountain—what year will I wake?
In front of Mingyue Hall, I don’t see anyone.
2.
A jade-hook moon—wind rushes—echoing ding-dongs.
I turn to see West Mountain like it’s in a dream.
In front of Mingyue Hall, that person has not come.
Fore-courtyard: one night ages in the autumn wind.
题明月堂二首
作者：刘氏亡妇
[其一]
蝉鬓惊秋华发新，
可怜红隙尽埃尘。
西山一梦何年觉，
明月堂前不见人。
[其二]
玉钩风急响丁东，
回首西山似梦中。
明月堂前人不到，
庭前一夜老秋风。
The last handful-plus poems in the collection are all cryptic or fragmentary, often both, most of them without headnotes. In this case, the author is a daughter-in-law who seems to have died before her husband returned from … whatever took him away. Same cicada-wing hairstyle as previously. For what it’s worth, Mingyue means “bright moon.”
Poem & Jinling Song, Deceased Courtesan of Taicheng
Advanced Scholar Huang of Jinling dreamed he met a deceased courtesan of Taicheng. Since she said them, her poems were used by Yang Wu’s Sacrificial Music Department, and they went:
Poem
My moon-song on the jade floor was cut off,
My dance in gold-thread robes was incomplete.
The even hairpins, gathered, burst their bonds
And frowning eyebrows parted many gates.
Its web cut, the spider still keeps weaving,
And don’t spring swallows come back to the bridge?
How can I bear to look back at the river
Landing where the wild-pear petals fly?
Jinling Song
Within the hall, fine plants are damp with fragrant crimson blooms—
Inside the hall, a slender waist weeps by the green screened window.
There are indeed upon the arched beams swallow chicks in spring,
And yet beside the pearl-bead curtain, the jade-hook moon is rising.
作者：故台城妓
〈金陵黄进士梦遇台城故妓，自云今为吴神乐部，其诗云：〉
诗
歌罢玉楼月，
舞残金缕衣。
匀钿收迸节，
敛黛别重闱。
网断蛛犹织，
梁春燕不归。
那堪回首处，
江步野棠飞。
金陵词
宫中细草香红湿，
宫内纤腰碧窗泣。
唯有虹梁春燕雏，
犹傍珠帘玉钩立。
More potted history: Taicheng was the name for China’s southern capital from the Three-Kingdoms-era state of Eastern Wu until the city’s destruction when the Chen Dynasty was conquered by Sui forces. Its courtesans were known for songs describing landscapes, which as a genre influenced early Tang Dynasty poetry. The city was rebuilt as a capital by the Ten-Kingdoms-era state of Yang Wu, which restored its Warring-States-era name Jinling. It was renamed Nanjing during the Ming Dynasty, and normally I’d use the modern name but the headnote is specifically highlighting two eras by using historical names.
The Department of Sacrificial Music was part of the state religious apparatus, in charge of exactly what it says on the tin: providing music during sacrifices. As in many other cultures, higher status courtesans often provided entertainment, including song and dance, to their clients. The many gates are those in the entranceway to the women’s quarters in a palace or estate, and the arched beams are those beneath a traditional rainbow bridge, exactly the sort of place that swallows still love to nest.
Poems, Unnamed Ghost
1.
Boat masts on the river all of a hundred feet—
Tower-tops within the mountains, twelve times over.
Upstairs the mountain monk looks down upon the river,
Points out the masts, and laughing, he then murders me.
2.
Immortals might not easily become immortal,
Yet in the mortal world, the mortals do not know.
Hand grasping his white beard, he follows both the deer—
We meet by chance, and yet he asks me what’s my name.
诗
作者：无名鬼
[其一]
江上樯竿一百尺，
山中楼台十二重。
山僧楼上望江上，
指点樯竿笑杀侬。
[其二]
仙人未必便仙去，
还在人间人不知。
手把白须从两鹿，
相逢却问姓名谁。
Did I mention these last few poems get cryptic? “Feet” translates chǐ, which like pre-modern units of measure everywhere varied somewhat, but the modern definition is a third of a meter. Deer were folklorically thought to live very long lives, and so were a symbol of longevity, so Daoist interest in them is obvious. The bit about following two of them is a confusing bit of Daoist esoterica. I’m guessing at the omitted pronouns to understand (who’s chasing, who’s asking) in the last two lines, but I’m pretty sure it’s two deer being chased, not two chasers.
For your amusement, “Immortals Might Not Easily Become Immortal” is the title of this painting. Well, I’m amused, anyway.
Lines, Nonghua
When the Wang family of Junyi buried their mother, her son-in-law Pei Lang lay down drunk behind her coffin. The members of the family didn’t know this and covered her grave. When he sobered up, he saw the grain of the cypress-wood (of her coffin) and took it for (the wall of) the entrance hall. When a crowd of maidservants linked arms for a round-dance, a maid named Nonghua sang thus:
The cypress hall is newly finished—music hasn’t ended.
Turning to come, turning to go—Pei Lang is perplexed.
句
作者：秾华
〈浚仪王氏，葬其母，有婿裴郎，醉卧棺后，家人不知，遂掩其圹。酒醒，见文柏为堂，群婢连臂踏歌，一婢名秾华，歌云：〉
柏堂新成乐未央，
回来回去绕裴郎。
The former county of Junyi is part of Kaifeng, Henan. As for why the spirit medium (whose name means “lush flower”) gets attribution instead of the ghost, I can only speculate that possibly it’s the ambiguity over whether it’s the matriarch or presumably-now-dead son-in-law who’s speaking through her.
Blackest humor yet, for one of these episodes.
Lines, Zhang Shuozhong
Song of the Butterfly
Su Qin of stingy fate departed each kingdom in turn,
Pan Yue of many feelings cycled through lust and sorrow.
Tonight I roost in the fragrant grass beside the path—
Which summons thoughts of the underworld to sons of lords.
句
作者：张守中
薄命苏秦频去国，
多情潘岳旋兴悲。
今夜若栖芳草径，
为传幽意达王孙。
〈咏蝶〉
Su Qin was a political strategist of the Warring States period, leader of a clique who tried to create an alliance against Qin of the other six remaining states—lots of diplomatic journeys. Pan Yue was a famously good-looking poet of the Jin Dynasty—a reputed veteran of many love affairs. “Descendent of lords” is an honorific, not necessarily a literal.
Lines, Unnamed Ghost
The lilac flowers are half-scattered—
Wind’s in the pines, the night is clear.
句
作者：无名鬼
芫花半落，
松风晚清。
I mentioned these last few ghost poems get fragmentary, yeah? Case in point.
:dusts off hands:
:slumps down on a couch somewhere: :stares at a wall:
---L.
Index of Chinese translations
no subject
Date: 13 December 2022 05:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 13 December 2022 08:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 13 December 2022 08:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 13 December 2022 08:42 pm (UTC)Bu kèqì!
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Date: 13 December 2022 10:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 13 December 2022 11:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 13 December 2022 11:13 pm (UTC)I also wonder about the nine questions. That one, too, I'd like to read.
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Date: 13 December 2022 11:21 pm (UTC)