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Untitled, Li Shangyin (300 Tang Shi #210)
Tuesday, 23 May 2023 08:52Yesternight the stars above, yesternight the wind—
A painted tower in the west, Cassia Hall the east.
Though I’ve no wings to fly like brightly colored phoenixes,
Our two hearts beat as one like rhinos with their single horns.
In separate seats, we both played Pass the Hook—spring wine was warm—
In different groups, we Flipped the Covers—candlelight was red.
Alas I heard the watch drum beat and had to leave for duties,
Galloping to Orchid Terrace, a whirling aster seed.
无题
昨夜星辰昨夜风，
画楼西畔桂堂东。
身无彩凤双飞翼，
心有灵犀一点通。
隔座送钩春酒暖，
分曹射覆蜡灯红。
嗟余听鼓应官去，
走马兰台类转蓬。
And here we meet extra challenges. This is the first of six of romantic/erotic poems in 3TP that Li Shangyin did not give a title (in contrast to #143, where the title was lost) —a very unusual practice. This edition numbers the other five as 1 through 5, despite their coming from different poem-sets and being placed not in sequence. And then I’m, like, why not number this? IDK. The editing of my base text leaves a lot to be desired, sometimes, and I should probably renumber them—or more likely, just remove the numbers. These poems are to/about a woman (or possibly more than one) who has never been identified, leading to 无题 sometimes being translated as “To One Unnamed,” which … actually is a defensible, but “Untitled” is more accurate.
But to focus on this one: it was written as the first of a two-poem set, the second of which (a quatrain) is not in 3TP. It’s framed as written the morning after a banquet where he could see but not interact closely with his (would-be?) lover. Rhinoceroses were believed to communicate telepathically through their horns. (Possibly I should commit to rendering this line as a fully English idiom.) “Pass the hook” (送钩) and “flip the cover” (射覆) were guessing games in which an object (such as a hook) is hidden in closed fists or under covers, respectively, and someone has to guess which one.
---L.
A painted tower in the west, Cassia Hall the east.
Though I’ve no wings to fly like brightly colored phoenixes,
Our two hearts beat as one like rhinos with their single horns.
In separate seats, we both played Pass the Hook—spring wine was warm—
In different groups, we Flipped the Covers—candlelight was red.
Alas I heard the watch drum beat and had to leave for duties,
Galloping to Orchid Terrace, a whirling aster seed.
无题
昨夜星辰昨夜风，
画楼西畔桂堂东。
身无彩凤双飞翼，
心有灵犀一点通。
隔座送钩春酒暖，
分曹射覆蜡灯红。
嗟余听鼓应官去，
走马兰台类转蓬。
And here we meet extra challenges. This is the first of six of romantic/erotic poems in 3TP that Li Shangyin did not give a title (in contrast to #143, where the title was lost) —a very unusual practice. This edition numbers the other five as 1 through 5, despite their coming from different poem-sets and being placed not in sequence. And then I’m, like, why not number this? IDK. The editing of my base text leaves a lot to be desired, sometimes, and I should probably renumber them—or more likely, just remove the numbers. These poems are to/about a woman (or possibly more than one) who has never been identified, leading to 无题 sometimes being translated as “To One Unnamed,” which … actually is a defensible, but “Untitled” is more accurate.
But to focus on this one: it was written as the first of a two-poem set, the second of which (a quatrain) is not in 3TP. It’s framed as written the morning after a banquet where he could see but not interact closely with his (would-be?) lover. Rhinoceroses were believed to communicate telepathically through their horns. (Possibly I should commit to rendering this line as a fully English idiom.) “Pass the hook” (送钩) and “flip the cover” (射覆) were guessing games in which an object (such as a hook) is hidden in closed fists or under covers, respectively, and someone has to guess which one.
---L.