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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 belt-chains go back to the head of Phoenix Pool.
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。
Like #177, this is “matching” only the content, not the rhymes, of Jia’s poem. Wang is less honorific than Cen in the title, 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. As such, this poem is currying favor.
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 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. I am guessing at the omitted pronoun in l.7.
(FWIW, Du Fu also “matched” Jia’s poem during his brief 757-8 stint as a palace official, for much the same reasons as Wang, though he had already wrangled a court appointment before Suzong moved court to Chang’an—see #108.) (No, I’m not translating it. No. No no no. Stop that.)
—L.
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 belt-chains go back to the head of Phoenix Pool.
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。
Like #177, this is “matching” only the content, not the rhymes, of Jia’s poem. Wang is less honorific than Cen in the title, 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. As such, this poem is currying favor.
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 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. I am guessing at the omitted pronoun in l.7.
(FWIW, Du Fu also “matched” Jia’s poem during his brief 757-8 stint as a palace official, for much the same reasons as Wang, though he had already wrangled a court appointment before Suzong moved court to Chang’an—see #108.) (No, I’m not translating it. No. No no no. Stop that.)
—L.