Larry's Pretty Good Poetry Journal

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.

Silver candles, misty heavens, purple lanes are long.
Forbidden City looks like spring, the daybreak deep, deep green.
Thousands of graceful willow ribbons are layers of green stripes—
Hundreds of flowing oriole songs encircle Jianzhang Palace.
The clinks of swords and belt-chains sound each step in the Jade Courtyard.
In robe and cap, I must resist the smoke of incense burners.
All cleanse themselves in merciful waves above the Phoenix Pool.
Dawn audience: I dip my brush, attend my lord and ruler.

早朝大明宫呈两省僚友
银烛熏天紫陌长，
禁城春色晓苍苍。
千条弱柳垂青琐，
百啭流莺绕建章。
剑佩声随玉墀步，
衣冠身惹御炉香。
共沐恩波凤池上，
朝朝染翰侍君王。

This is not in 3TP but is relevant to both #177 and #178, so stick a pin in it for now.

Written in 758, shortly after the imperial court, now under Emperor Suzong, returned to Chang’an after recapturing it from the forces of An Lushan. The two bureaus are the Secretariat and Chancellery, which were two of the three main branches (along with the six Ministries) of the government. Jia was high up in the Secretariat. The ordinary day of court business started with a dawn audience with the emperor, including a procession of the officials attending. The “belt-chains” (佩) are decorations hung from the belt of an official’s robe, part of his uniform—I’m not thrilled with that translation, but haven’t hit on a better. There’s a pun in l.7: there was indeed a Phoenix Pool (more fully, Paired-Phoenix Pool) on the palace grounds, but it’s also a type of ink-stone.

And, yeah, evidence that calling the imperial palace grounds the Forbidden City waaay predates the one in Beijing.

---L.

Paired Phoenix Terrace where the phoenix pairs arrived—
The phoenixes departed—Yangzi flows vainly on.
Wu Palace shrubs and flowers hide secluded paths.
Jin minister robes and caps wound up in ancient graves.
Santai Hill’s half-missing, blue mountains lie beyond.
Two rivers are divided by White Heron Isle.
When floating clouds are gathered, they can conceal the sun—
Chang’an cannot discern a person is depressed.

登金陵凤凰台
凤凰台上凤凰游，
凤去台空江自流。
吴宫花草埋幽径，
晋代衣冠成古邱。
三台半落青山外，
二水中分白鹭洲。
总为浮云能蔽日，
长安不见使人愁。



Li Bai is not known for his regulated verse, and this is one of his few 7-character examples. Written during the return journey from exile that was started in #269. The literal name for the terrace, which is on a hill and may actually have been a tower, is “male-phoenix female-phoenix”. Nanjing was the capital of both Wu, the southeastern of the Three Kingdoms, and the Eastern Jin Dynasty. Santai is the next hill over, presumably partly cut off by the current hill or maybe the terrace structure. White Heron Isle was a sandbank in the Yangzi where the Qinhuai River (which flows through Nanjing) joined it.

Commentaries note that seeing any mountains at all from Nanjing implies exceptionally clear conditions … and even so, Chang’an still can’t see you. Especially when gathered clouds of nay-sayers get in your way.

I think just about every literate culture has expressed vanitas vanitatum in insouciant, pretty ways.

---L.

To lofty peaks of Great Mt. Hua, the capital bows down—
Three summits past the heavens that humans couldn’t carve.
The clouds desire to disperse before Wu Temple
And rain clears off where the Immortal’s Palm ascends.
Rivers and mountains to the north cushion the Qin Pass.
Road stations to the west connect the calm Han Altar.
I want to ask these travelers seeking fame and fortune
To linger here and study immortality.

行经华阴
岧嶢太华俯咸京，
天外三峰削不成。
武帝祠前云欲散，
仙人掌上雨初晴。
河山北枕秦关险，
驿树西连汉畤平。
借问路傍名利客，
无如此处学长生。

Huayin is a town east of Chang’an at the confluence of the Wei and Yellow Rivers, in the north foothills of Mt. Hua a.k.a. Taihua (“great Hua”), one of the five sacred mountains of Daoism. Said mountain has three peaks, the highest of which is Immortal’s Palm (Xianrenzhang). Wu Temple is where emperors made sacrifices to heaven and earth, and the Han Altar is the ancestral temple of the Han Dynasty rulers. The nearby Qin Pass is Hangu Gate, the frontier between the Warring States kingdom of Qin and the plains of the lower Yellow River. Lost in translation: he wants to ask passers-by “[from] beside the road.”

(Yeah, these 40% larger poems are taking me longer to translate—one a day isn’t sustainable atm.)

---L.

Okay, getting back to the rest of this set...


Three months of spring in Xianyang City,
Thousands of flowers like a brocade—
Who can in spring be worried alone?
For facing this I straight must drink.
Both poor and rich, refined and crude,
The Maker has bestowed their places:
One jar makes life and death the same
And all the things so hard to gauge—
Once drunk, I shrug off heaven and earth
And, fainting, just approach my pillow
Not knowing if my body exists:
This is the happiest place of all!

月下独酌 之三
三月咸阳城，
千花昼如锦。
谁能春独愁，
对此径须饮。
穷通与修短，
造化夙所禀。
一樽齐死生，
万事固难审。
醉后失天地，
兀然就孤枕。
不知有吾身，
此乐最为甚。

Xianyang, the capital of Qin before Chang’an was built nearby, was sometimes used as an alternate name for the capital.

So this is better than #2, but not as good as #1.

---L.

A hermit returns to his lone bed,
Alone, his worries washed away.
He shares this with a high-flown bird
So it conveys afar his feelings—
But day and night, such futile thoughts,
For who can see his purity?
“Fliers and failures, they’re clearly parted—
What place consoles my loyalty?”

感遇 之三
幽人归独卧，
滞虑洗孤清，
持此谢高鸟，
因之传远情。
日夕怀空意，
人谁感至精？
飞沈理自隔，
何所慰吾诚？

This was written as the 2nd poem of a 12-poem set, added by later editors. The hermit represents the author in exile from court, and the bird a messenger who hopefully will convey his loyalty to the implied distant emperor. The allegorical ‘moving encounter’ genre feels a bit thin here.

—L.

A lone swan comes across the sea
To a moat it dares not look at.
Nearby, it spies a kingfisher pair,
Their nest upon a Three-Pearl Tree:
“You there, atop that precious tree—
Don’t you fear a gold sling-bullet?
The wretched lambaste beautiful robes,
The high and mighty endure their trolls.
I travel now the lofty sky—
What place does an archer long for?”

感遇 之一
孤鸿海上来，
池潢不敢顾；
侧见双翠鸟，
巢在三珠树。
矫矫珍木巅，
得无金丸惧？
美服患人指，
高明逼神恶。
今我游冥冥，
弋者何所慕？

A jump back to the very beginning of the collection! —though this is … complicated. The original edition of 3TP began with two poems of a 12-poem set, specifically the 1st and 7th. Later editors added the 4th and 2nd poems of the set, inserting them as what’s now #1 and #3, respectively, turning the original first two poems into #2 and #4, respectively. Why the additions were inserted out of order and out of sequence, I don’t pretend to understand—just trying to keep all that straight makes my head hurt enough thank you very much. In fact, let’s just take the ’splainings one poem at a time:

This was written as the 4th poem of a 12-poem set, added by later editors.

The title is a statement of genre: these are allegories, small stories with a ‘moving’ moralized message—I’m not entirely confident I’ve given it the best possible translation. Of note when interpreting them: they were written after being demoted from high office to a provincial posting thanks to court politics—thus, the palace implied by the moat is not coincidental, nor is the bejeweled Three-Pearl Tree from Chinese mythology. Idiom: trolls are “evil spirits” who, in this case, criticize their betters—nice to find a colloquial English equivalent. The bullets are from the slings of hunters, and the archer is also a hunter. (The author, btw, also wrote #91 and was addressed in #119 and #124.)

---L.

A young wife of the Lu’s in a tulip-scented hall
Where pairs of swallows perch in rafters of tortoiseshell:
Ninth Month, cold washing-stones are urging on the leaves.
Ten years in garrison—she thinks of far Liaoyang.
From north of White-Wolf River, news and letters have stopped—
South of Red Phoenix City, autumn nights are long.
Who wants her to be anxious—alone, not seeing him?
Let the bright moon shine once more on her flowing-yellow robes.

古意呈补阙乔知之
卢家少妇郁金香，
海燕双栖玳瑁梁。
九月寒砧催木叶，
十年征戍忆辽阳。
白狼河北音书断，
丹凤城南秋夜长。
谁为含愁独不见，
更教明月照流黄。

So, okay, this is an 8-line poem of 7-character lines and my base text puts it in Part 6, which is 7-character regulated verse … however, comma, it is not that but rather a folk-song-style poem that for Some Reason was placed here instead of with the rest of the 7-character yuefu of Part 4. (Will I ever get over this text’s handling of yuefu? NO. We all need our grumptions. Don’t judge me.) I mean, okay, yes, there’s the antithetical middle couplets, but that’s not enough to make the form.

This is also (probably better) known as “Alone, Not Seeing Him.” Liaoyang and White-Wolf (Bailang) River were on the far northeastern frontier, in modern Liaoning Province, while Red Phoenix City is Chang’an (one of the southern city gates was Red Phoenix Gate). Added in translation: “far” to clarify where the grass-widow isn’t and “robes” to clarify that flowing-yellow is a cloth pattern. The swallows are literally “sea swallows,” which in Modern Mandarin is the name for stormy petrels, who do not roost inside a wealthy house in Shaanxi, so I’m taking the “sea” part to be fanciful/ornamental and lost it in translation.

—L.

The clear se’s lamentation through the night,
Sinuous strings that mourn in wind and rain.
By a lonely lamp I hear a Chu-style horn
As the last of the moon descends behind Zhang Tower—
The fragrant grasses already fade again—
My old friend’s visit still is in the future—
Family letters cannot be delivered—
Autumn geese once more return to the south.

章台夜思
清瑟怨遥夜，
绕弦风雨哀。
孤灯闻楚角，
残月下章台。
芳草已云暮，
故人殊未来。
乡书不可寄，
秋雁又南回。

Zhang Tower was part of a palace (more usually called Zhonghua) in the Warring States kingdom of Chu, now in Jingzhou, Hubei. The Chu horn was a kind of bugle, generally considered to have a somber tone.

---L.

So many lines returned across the border
But this thin silhouette goes where alone?
Through evening rain it calls to those it’s lost—
To some cold pond it longs to descend at last.
It crosses the cloudy islet low in the dark,
Lonely together with the moonlit pass.
Surely it won’t encounter a hunter’s arrow—
Flying solo myself, I can but wonder.

孤雁
几行归塞尽，
片影独何之？
暮雨相呼失，
寒塘欲下迟。
渚云低暗渡，
关月冷相随。
未必逢矰缴，
孤飞自可疑。



This was written as the second of a 2-poem set. Hmm. There’s a few poetic inversions of word order in the original, which I’ve tried the flavor of to replicate. Lost in translation: the arrow is one with a silk cord tied on, so the hunter can retrieve a fallen bird.

---L.