Yi Lake, Wang Wei & Pei Di (Wangchuan Collection #11)

Playing flutes, we cross to the far shore:
As the day ends, I see you off.
Upon the lake, a turn of the head—
White clouds are curling round green mountains.

    The sky is wide, lake waters broad—
    Blue shimmers: heaven’s color’s the same.
    As I moor my boat, one long howl:
    From all around the clear wind comes.

欹湖

吹箫凌极浦，
日暮送夫君。
湖上一回首，
青山卷白云。

    空阔湖水广，
    青荧天色同。
    舣舟一长啸，
    四面来清风。

As anticipated, Wang’s friend (addressed with a term of respect for a male friend) departs. The flute is a xiāo (箫), which can be any of several types of end-blown bamboo flute, both fingered and collected like panpipes. The 啸 (xiào) in Pei’s line 3 is an ambiguous sound word, encompassing anything along the lines of howl, sigh, whistle, hiss, or sing. Given the apes in Pei’s #9, I’m going with howl, though Wang’s flutes and the wind itself are also possibilities.

(In Wang’s line 3, there’s an alternate reading of "turn to look" instead of "turn (my) head," which doesn’t change the substance of the poem, just its nuance; since I’m not up for judging nuances here, I’m not going to second-guess my base text.)

---L.