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larryhammerChapter 802 of Complete Tang Poems, one of nine devoted to poems by women, has five erotic poems by Zhao Luanluan, of whom they say she “was a famous courtesan of Pingkang,” an entertainment district of Tang-era Chang’an.
This is one of the more famous slip-ups of the editors who, under an imperial order of 1705, hurried to publish as quickly as possible. Thanks to a contemporary biography they apparently weren’t aware of, we know that Zhao Luanluan, courtesy name Wenyuan, actually lived during the reign of Yuan Emperor Huizong, who ruled China from 1341 till he was ousted back to the Mongolia of his ancestors by Ming revolutionaries in 1367. It was a dramatic and turbulent time, and the anthology Chronicles of Yuan Poems also preserves a four-poem set written to her husband while she was held captive by rebels. The biography itself is a tragic romantic narrative that inspired an opera, now lost, but thanks to the poems we can be pretty sure the captivity really happened.
I’ll deal with her Yuan life later, after I translate the work her captivity poems were modeled on—but before that, I wanted to find out what’s up with poems so erotic they were mistaken for a Tang courtesan’s. Because, yanno, erotic.
Before you get your hopes up too high, note that per cultural norms, simply being set in a boudoir counted as erotic, as did any physical description of a woman beyond the generic—and each poem is focused on one aspect of female anatomy. That said, there is some real spice here too. All five poems are noticeably elegant in their phrasing and imagery, with lots of implicit comparisons which I’ve sometimes made explicit for clarity, only one of which I call out in the notes.
Cloud Hair
She tidies up her fragrant cloud that’s not yet dry from washing—
Like crow’s neck or cicada’s wing, it’s glossy, shiny, cold.
On one side she inserts aslant a golden phoenix pin,
Then makeup done, she looks up smiling at her lord and husband.
云鬟
扰扰香云湿未干，
鸦领蝉翼腻光寒。
侧边斜插黄金凤，
妆罢夫君带笑看。
Cloud hair is a specific hairstyle with loops rising up from the head (I’ve sometimes translated it as “cloud chignon”), as well as a general term for beautiful hair and by metonymy a term for a pretty young woman.
Willow Brows
A curving willow leaf that’s playing at the edge of worried,
Clearly reflected in her water-chestnut mirror again.
Lovely and charming, she won’t bother using eyebrow paint,
For that “spring mountain” hue appears as natural as a thought.
柳眉
弯弯柳叶愁边戏，
湛湛菱花照处频。
妩媚不烦螺子黛，
春山画出自精神。
Willow eyebrows are long and slender, like a willow leaf, which was considered attractive. Lost in translation: in full, it’s a “water-chestnut flower (mirror).” Mirrors decorated with that motif were common especially in the Tang Dynasty—this might have misled the CTP editors. “Spring mountain” is a specific color of 黛, makeup for painting eyebrows.
Crimson Mouth
A cup held at it barely moves her cherry lips—
A dainty cough, and there’s the scent of jasmine blooms.
I saw an unpainted mouth like Bai Juyi’s Fan Su:
A string of melon seeds, a pomegranate fragrance.
檀口
衔杯微动樱桃颗，
咳唾轻飘茉莉香。
曾见白家樊素口，
瓠犀颗颗缀榴芳。
Crimson is literally “sandalwood,” which has the connotation of “fine” as well as the color. Fan Su was a courtesan in Tang poet Bai Juyi’s household, whom he celebrated in a famous poem. The melon seeds are, if it’s not clear, her white teeth. Added in translation: l.3’s “like,” because the author lived over three centuries later, but the implicit comparison may be another thing that misled the CTP editors.
Delicate Fingers
Slim and slender, soft as jade, or shavings from spring scallions,
Always kept inside her jade-green sleeves of fragrant gauze.
Yesterday they sought for notes upon the pipa strings—
And now her nails are obviously filled with scarlet polish.
纤指
纤纤软玉削春葱，
长在香罗翠袖中。
昨日琵琶弦索上，
分明满甲染猩红。
A pipa is a lute-like instrument. Evidently someone hadn’t practiced for a while. Added in translation: “for notes.”
Creamy Breasts
Perfumed and powdered, moist with sweat, like pegs of an inlaid qin—
In spring’s lust they are melting cream, a gentle rain, soft fat—
And when her bathing’s done, her husband touches, fondles them.
The magic blossoms, as the cool seeps in, are purple grapes.
酥乳
粉香汗湿瑶琴轸，
春逗酥融绵雨膏。
浴罢檀郎扪弄处，
灵华凉沁紫葡萄。
The root sense of 酥 is butter or curd-cheese, which I’ve nativized as “creamy,” though “butter” might be more clear in l.2. I think the point of the pegs is how round her breasts are—though jutting out may also be part of the image? Honestly not sure here. Lost in translation: the qin is specifically inlaid with “jade.”
Man, I wish we had the context for her writing these.
---L.
Index of Chinese translations
Subject quote from Someone’s Daughter, Beth Orton.
This is one of the more famous slip-ups of the editors who, under an imperial order of 1705, hurried to publish as quickly as possible. Thanks to a contemporary biography they apparently weren’t aware of, we know that Zhao Luanluan, courtesy name Wenyuan, actually lived during the reign of Yuan Emperor Huizong, who ruled China from 1341 till he was ousted back to the Mongolia of his ancestors by Ming revolutionaries in 1367. It was a dramatic and turbulent time, and the anthology Chronicles of Yuan Poems also preserves a four-poem set written to her husband while she was held captive by rebels. The biography itself is a tragic romantic narrative that inspired an opera, now lost, but thanks to the poems we can be pretty sure the captivity really happened.
I’ll deal with her Yuan life later, after I translate the work her captivity poems were modeled on—but before that, I wanted to find out what’s up with poems so erotic they were mistaken for a Tang courtesan’s. Because, yanno, erotic.
Before you get your hopes up too high, note that per cultural norms, simply being set in a boudoir counted as erotic, as did any physical description of a woman beyond the generic—and each poem is focused on one aspect of female anatomy. That said, there is some real spice here too. All five poems are noticeably elegant in their phrasing and imagery, with lots of implicit comparisons which I’ve sometimes made explicit for clarity, only one of which I call out in the notes.
Cloud Hair
She tidies up her fragrant cloud that’s not yet dry from washing—
Like crow’s neck or cicada’s wing, it’s glossy, shiny, cold.
On one side she inserts aslant a golden phoenix pin,
Then makeup done, she looks up smiling at her lord and husband.
云鬟
扰扰香云湿未干，
鸦领蝉翼腻光寒。
侧边斜插黄金凤，
妆罢夫君带笑看。
Cloud hair is a specific hairstyle with loops rising up from the head (I’ve sometimes translated it as “cloud chignon”), as well as a general term for beautiful hair and by metonymy a term for a pretty young woman.
Willow Brows
A curving willow leaf that’s playing at the edge of worried,
Clearly reflected in her water-chestnut mirror again.
Lovely and charming, she won’t bother using eyebrow paint,
For that “spring mountain” hue appears as natural as a thought.
柳眉
弯弯柳叶愁边戏，
湛湛菱花照处频。
妩媚不烦螺子黛，
春山画出自精神。
Willow eyebrows are long and slender, like a willow leaf, which was considered attractive. Lost in translation: in full, it’s a “water-chestnut flower (mirror).” Mirrors decorated with that motif were common especially in the Tang Dynasty—this might have misled the CTP editors. “Spring mountain” is a specific color of 黛, makeup for painting eyebrows.
Crimson Mouth
A cup held at it barely moves her cherry lips—
A dainty cough, and there’s the scent of jasmine blooms.
I saw an unpainted mouth like Bai Juyi’s Fan Su:
A string of melon seeds, a pomegranate fragrance.
檀口
衔杯微动樱桃颗，
咳唾轻飘茉莉香。
曾见白家樊素口，
瓠犀颗颗缀榴芳。
Crimson is literally “sandalwood,” which has the connotation of “fine” as well as the color. Fan Su was a courtesan in Tang poet Bai Juyi’s household, whom he celebrated in a famous poem. The melon seeds are, if it’s not clear, her white teeth. Added in translation: l.3’s “like,” because the author lived over three centuries later, but the implicit comparison may be another thing that misled the CTP editors.
Delicate Fingers
Slim and slender, soft as jade, or shavings from spring scallions,
Always kept inside her jade-green sleeves of fragrant gauze.
Yesterday they sought for notes upon the pipa strings—
And now her nails are obviously filled with scarlet polish.
纤指
纤纤软玉削春葱，
长在香罗翠袖中。
昨日琵琶弦索上，
分明满甲染猩红。
A pipa is a lute-like instrument. Evidently someone hadn’t practiced for a while. Added in translation: “for notes.”
Creamy Breasts
Perfumed and powdered, moist with sweat, like pegs of an inlaid qin—
In spring’s lust they are melting cream, a gentle rain, soft fat—
And when her bathing’s done, her husband touches, fondles them.
The magic blossoms, as the cool seeps in, are purple grapes.
酥乳
粉香汗湿瑶琴轸，
春逗酥融绵雨膏。
浴罢檀郎扪弄处，
灵华凉沁紫葡萄。
The root sense of 酥 is butter or curd-cheese, which I’ve nativized as “creamy,” though “butter” might be more clear in l.2. I think the point of the pegs is how round her breasts are—though jutting out may also be part of the image? Honestly not sure here. Lost in translation: the qin is specifically inlaid with “jade.”
Man, I wish we had the context for her writing these.
---L.
Index of Chinese translations
Subject quote from Someone’s Daughter, Beth Orton.
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Date: 2 June 2023 04:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2 June 2023 09:30 pm (UTC)