Early Autumn 3, Xu Hun

[lnhammer]

North of Ji, the wild geese are still distant—
South of the Huai, this man already grieves.
The last peach falls into the open well
And fresh chrysanthemums grow through the fence.
Books and swords—how could they both be wrong?
The qin and wine-cup—I hold these, at least.
West of my study, wind and rain at night—
But more than this, I chant my feeble poems.

早秋 之三
蓟北雁犹远，
淮南人已悲。
残桃间堕井，
新菊亦侵篱。
书剑岂相误，
琴尊聊自持。
西斋风雨夜，
更有咏贫诗。

Third of a three-poem set, only the first of which was included in 3TP. Line 2 repeats line 2 of the previous poem, further linking and responding. Ji was a Warring States kingdom centered southwest of modern Beijing, and most of the geese (aside from the one in the first poem) that nest in Siberia haven’t yet migrated even that far. Wild chrysanthemums are autumn-bloomers. The qin is a 7-string zither with fixed bridges, and as a relatively soft and subtle instrument was the prestige instrument of the scholar-gentleman in his study (in contrast to the books and swords of public life).

---L.

Comments

[sartorias]

I wonder if chrysanthemums were a regular feature at memorials then, too, adding to the lugubrious tone. I like the inner three of the last four lines.

[lnhammer]

I've not seen mention of 'mums at funerals -- the only associations I have are a) autumn (which means decline) and b) the Longevity Festival (which means both living longer and old age). ('Mums aren't in season for either of the two festivals for the dead, either.) But I'm far from an expert here.

[sartorias]

Could be a recent thing, then. I've seen two Chinese sources about it, like, a warning not to give mums when visiting someone (one brings gifts), and on Hey yesterday, they weere selling mums outside a graveyard.

[lnhammer]

TIL!