Monday, 7 November 2022

lnhammer: the Chinese character for poetry, red on white background (Default)
[TN: This redonkulous long episode is getting serialized. Srsly—it’s almost 100 lines spread across 7 poems, plus a chonky headnote. Other episodes might get interspersed between installments, as I’m still working on the later poems.]

Around 795, Dugu Mu of Henan, a distant descendent of Dugu Sheng, was traveling about Huainan. One night he sought refuge in lodgings in Dayi County, and came across a servant in the road who guided him to a gated compound where they were extremely respectful, the food and wine and bedding perfectly provided for. Two women came out to meet him, one calling herself the Magistrate of Sui Dynasty’s Linzi County and daughter of the Prince of Qi, who died in the Rebellion in Guangling (in 617). Because Mu was a descendent of a Sui general, whose loyal sacrifice is reported even in this generation, she desired an underworld marriage with him. She summoned Lai Hu’er’s singer, who joined them, and they composed poetry, as was courteous. [TN: a “read the first five poems” will go here] Then she said that at the time she died, she was buried hastily in a shallow grave, and urged Mu to rebury her on a north-facing hill in Luoyang. [TN: a “read the last two poems” will go here] The next(?) day, Mu went out for several meters and obtained her lost skeleton. Once he reburied her as she asked, that night the County Magistrate saw him again, and said, “In the 16th year of the (60-year) cycle, it will be suitable for us to be together at last.” In 799, Mu died of a sudden illness, and was buried in a joint grave with her.

Presented by the County Magistrate to Mu
In Yangzhou once was death and chaos—
Below the palace massed tents and troops.
Wolves and tigers devoured unchecked,
Thousands of spears spread wide each day.
The rebels themselves arrived outside—
At midnight they opened the inner wall:
Flesh and blood steeped palace halls,
Swords and spears leaned on the columns.
I understand now that the rebels
Themselves were dukes and ministers—
Their naked blades defiled the realm,
And they succeeded as it collapsed.
The strong winds show which plants are sturdy—
Chaos reveals the loyal officials.
In utmost sorrow, Dugu had honor,
And facing death he was a martyr.
Heaven and earth, since “Unchecked” and “Perverse,”
In clouds and thunder isn’t smooth.
Now, two hundred years since then,
My feelings hidden as if not ready—
The hills and streams are scenes as of old—
I sleep in a mound—fresh dew and mist.
Grasp, Noble One, your grandsire’s virtue,
Famed at the border as loyal and keen:
From your ornate carriage grant your favor—
In my earth house, I’d feel the honor.
O husband, be resolved and seize this—
I don’t exist without your love.
I beseech the righteous—you can support me,
For who embraces only secret faith?

与独孤穆冥会诗
作者:临淄县主
〈贞元中,河南独孤穆者,隋将独孤盛裔孙也。客游淮南,夜投大仪县宿,路逢青衣,引至一所,见门馆甚肃,酒食衾褥备具。有二女子出见,自称隋临淄县主,齐王之女,死于广陵之变,以穆隋将后裔,世禀忠烈,欲成冥婚,召来护儿歌人同至,赋诗就礼,且云死时浮瘗草草,嘱穆改葬洛阳北坂。穆于异日发地数尺,果得遗骸。因如言携葬,其夜县主复见,曰:“岁至己卯,当遂相见。”至贞元十五年己卯,穆果暴亡,与之合窆。〉

江都昔丧乱,
阙下多构兵。
豺虎恣吞噬,
干戈日纵横。
逆徒自外至,
半夜开重城。
膏血浸宫殿,
刀枪倚檐楹。
今知从逆者,
乃是公与卿。
白刃污黄屋,
邦家遂因倾。
疾风知劲草,
世乱识忠臣。
哀哀独孤公,
临死乃结缨。
天地既《板》《荡》,
云雷时未亨。
今者二百载,
幽怀犹未平。
山河风月古,
陵寝露烟青。
君子秉祖德,
方垂忠烈名。
华轩一惠顾,
土室以为荣。
丈夫立志操,
存没感其情。
求义若可托,
谁能抱幽贞。〈县主赠穆〉

This is the first of five sets of 冥会诗 (or 冥㑹诗 in some texts) literally “underworld meeting poems” exchanged between someone living and one or more ghosts—which for the moment I’m calling afterlife encounters. That said, I’m using underworld marriage for 冥婚 (a marriage between a living person and a ghost) because that seems to be the standard translation. Yes, that’s enough of a Thing to have a standard translation. Yes, that fact is awesome. As is that this is the first of a couple female ghosts who claim the title for what traditionally was a strictly male role.

Notes on the headnote, starting with a history infodump: Qi was an imperial principality (named after the Warring State) centered in northern Shandong, which in most dynasties was held by members of the imperial family. At the time of the Magistrate’s death, the Prince of Qi was the crown prince, the only surviving son of Sui Emperor Yang, making her an imperial princess. The rebellion that killed her is the coup that captured and killed the emperor, her father, and several other family members (and oh by the way brought down the dynasty), in the Sui capital of Jiangdu aka Guangling aka modern Yangzhou, Jiangsu. Dugu Sheng and Lai Hu’er were generals who died defending the emperor during that coup. Linzi is now a district of Zibo City, northern Shandong, and was the capital of Qi at the time. Confusingly, the only Dayi I can find is now a township of Juye County, western Shangdong, and neither it nor Huainan in Anhui are nowhere near Yangzhou.

Literally, Mu goes several chi to find her remains, which is an odd choice of distance, as a chi is only a third of a meter. As for the 16th year, um. :deep breath: Okay—the 60-year cycle, slightly oversimplified: the 12 zodiac animals familiar in the west is actually only part of the traditional calendar cycle, which simultaneously also had a 5-year rotation through the Five Phases (aka Elements), giving a full count of 60 before returning to the start. Each year is not an {animal} year but an {element} {animal} year, for example, the current year, which started in 2022 CE, is a water tiger year. And yes, 799 was indeed an earth rabbit year aka 16th of the cycle.

BTW, that second woman? Never gets explained or mentioned again.

Notes on the first poem: The original’s repetitive syntax over the first eight lines, recounting the battle, is almost incantory—because languages work differently, I couldn't reproduce the syntax, but I managed a pale echo of the effect. Idiom: a martyr is literally a “bound tassel,” and I would love to find the story behind that bit of language. “Perverse/Abnormal” (板) and “Rampant” (荡) are poems from the Classic of Songs that lament times when the powerful oppress the weak—so “ever since (the turmoils of) ancient times.”

[See what I mean about redonkulous long? And that's just the first part.]

---L.

About

Warning: contents contain line-breaks.

As language practice, I like to translate poetry. My current project is Chinese, with practice focused on Tang Dynasty poetry. Previously this was classical Japanese, most recently working through the Kokinshu anthology (archived here). Suggestions, corrections, and questions always welcome.

There's also original pomes in the journal archives.

April 2025

S M T W T F S
  12345
678910 1112
13141516171819
20212223242526
27282930   

Style Credit

Powered by Dreamwidth Studios
Page generated Sunday, 22 June 2025 08:32

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags