Song of Climbing Youzhou Tower, Chen Zi’ang (Tang Shi #46)
Saturday, 23 May 2020 08:15![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lnhammer Ahead, I don’t see men of old.
Behind, I don’t see those to come.
I think of heaven and earth—these last and last.
Alone, I sorrow indeed, and tears roll down.
登幽州台歌
前不见古人，
后不见来者；
念天地之悠悠，
独怆然而涕下。
So it turns out there was one more four-line poem, buried in the seven-character “old-style” verse—which in contrast the ‘modern’ regulated forms had no required tone pattern, and could be any length as long as even lines rhymed (in longer poems, such as “Song of Lasting Regret,” the rhymes changed every few uses). Sometimes, as in this one, the number of characters per line was flexible. That said, I don’t know in what sense this is a poem with seven-character lines, given it has no lines that length, but that’s how it’s classified. Oh well.
The tower, now called Jibei, is southwest of Beijing. I may be missing something, but this feels like the blandest poem so far in this collection—though to be fair, I haven’t read through the longer-than-usual appreciative commentaries yet. I can’t help comparing it (unfavorably) to Wang Wei’s first poem in Wangchuan Collection. (This may not be fair—very few of us can be Wang Wei.)
---L.
Behind, I don’t see those to come.
I think of heaven and earth—these last and last.
Alone, I sorrow indeed, and tears roll down.
登幽州台歌
前不见古人，
后不见来者；
念天地之悠悠，
独怆然而涕下。
So it turns out there was one more four-line poem, buried in the seven-character “old-style” verse—which in contrast the ‘modern’ regulated forms had no required tone pattern, and could be any length as long as even lines rhymed (in longer poems, such as “Song of Lasting Regret,” the rhymes changed every few uses). Sometimes, as in this one, the number of characters per line was flexible. That said, I don’t know in what sense this is a poem with seven-character lines, given it has no lines that length, but that’s how it’s classified. Oh well.
The tower, now called Jibei, is southwest of Beijing. I may be missing something, but this feels like the blandest poem so far in this collection—though to be fair, I haven’t read through the longer-than-usual appreciative commentaries yet. I can’t help comparing it (unfavorably) to Wang Wei’s first poem in Wangchuan Collection. (This may not be fair—very few of us can be Wang Wei.)
---L.