The text that that gentleman is writing on the blackboard is 春城無處不飛花，寒食東風御柳斜；日暮漢宮傳蠟燭，輕煙散入五侯家。In the springtime city no place lacks swirling petals, on 'Eat Cold Food Day' the breeze inclines the willows; at dusk there's a flickering of candles in the Han Palace, drifting whisps of smoke enter the homes of the five great lords.
Tang Dynasty regulated verse by Han Hong (韓翃 'hon wang').
寒食 (COLD EAT)
Chun seng mou chü pat fei faa,
Hon-sik tung-fong yü lau che;
Yat-mou hon-gung chuen laap-juk,
Heng yan saan yap ng hau gaa.
NOTES:
The pronunciation of Chinese has deviated since the Tang era (唐朝 'tong chiu' 618 - 907 CE), so the rhymes no longer hold.
The transcription here is in Cantonese.
寒食 ('hon sik'): The day when fires aren't lit and cold food is eaten; the Chingming festival. Usually the fifth day of April, except in leap-years, when it is the fourth. Tomb-sweeping day, when graves are cleaned and ancestors reverenced.
飛花 ('fei faa'): Flying flowers; swirling petals, a flurry of blossoms; a marking of spring.
東風 ('tung fong'): East wind.
御 ('yü'): Manage, govern; resist, defend.
斜 ('che'): Oblique, aslant.
日暮 ('yat mou'): Day-dusk, sunset, at twilight just before darkness.
漢宮 ('hon gung'): The palace of the Han dynasty; here a clue that the poet refers to something both other timed and other placed, as he is writing several centuries later.
蠟燭 ('laap juk'): Waxen tapers; candles and oil lamps for reading by.
散 ('saan'): Dispersing, scattering; leisurely, at random; dispelled, disemployed.
五侯家 ('ng hau gaa'): Literally, "five marquis family", the semi-royal homes, but here an oblique reference to the core of important courtiers and eunuchs.
Like many other examples of regulated verse, especially the single quatrains, the interpretation is dependent on the mood inculcated in the reader, and his or her familiarity with implied details.
Take the thought, and mentally go further.
[Post pursuant an article in Time Magazine: Why Mandarin Won’t Be a Lingua Franca.]
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Showing posts with label 唐朝. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 唐朝. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Thursday, December 12, 2013
THREE HUNDRED POEMS
When I left the house for lunch in Chinatown yesterday it felt like good things were going to happen. Let's just say that my senses were fair tingling with such an expectation.
My senses did not let me down.
During lunch I ended up in conversation with a nice gentleman from Jiangsu (江蘇 'gong sou') province, long a resident of our city.
We had to share a table, and we ate similar things.
I would have had the preserved egg and lean pork porridge (皮蛋瘦肉粥 'pei daan sau yiuk juk'), except I noticed him ordering that, and I did not want to seem to be imitating. Besides, I speak Cantonese, and can read the stuff on the wall.
Show-off time: Request the congee with dried fish and peanuts (柴魚花生粥 'chaai-yü faa-sang juk'). It's written in Chinese.
"Firewood fish" (柴魚 'chaai yü') really tells you what it is. Fatty tuna blanched, dried over heat, fermented with specific strains of bacteria, and lastly sawed into pieces, fragmented, or even finely ground for flavouring. The Japanese use something very similar for their miso soup (味噌汁 'mei chang jap').
Instead of chaai-yü it's called katsuo bushi (鰹節 'gin jit').
I do not think I've ever discussed Old English, Middle English, Early Modern English, and Germanic linguistics with someone from Northern China before.
[Yes yes, I do know that Jiangsu is central-south. But it's far to the north of Lingnan (嶺南), two language groups removed from Canton, and pushing up against the Mandarin Belt. So it's north. Almost as north as you can get.]
His son is taking Latin (拉丁語) in college.
Which is almost as practical as 古文.
Or, for that matter, Old English.
[By the way: the first strophe of Beowulf (hwæt, we Gardena in geardagum, þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon, hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon) is identified as 'Icelandic' by Google Translate. This is giving those wall-fish eating heathens way too much credit. Instead, a different bunch of savages are lauded: the Bright Speared Danes.]
After a pleasant post-prandial chat we parted ways. I left the restaurant and lit a pipe, wandering first through Spofford (新呂宋巷 'san leui song hong'), then up to Hang Ah Alley (香雅巷 'heung ya hong'), which is now also called Pagoda Alley (寶塔巷 'pou taap hong'), before finally circling around through Waverly (天后廟街 'tin hou miu kai') and down to Grant (都板街 'dou pan kai'). Eventually, after finishing my pipe, I ended up in a cluster of indoor shops. Great Source Commercial.
Where I ended up purchasing a copy of the Three Hundred Poems of the Tang Dynasty. Of which I already have several copies.
That I cannot find.
See, the problem is that I keep pulling a copy to look something up, whereupon it ends up in another stack, eventually covered by other books...... Earlier today I tried to find Mathews Dictionary of Chinese, but neither copy of that could be found. I'm sure I have both of them somewhere. Along with all copies of the Three Hundred Poems.
Somewhere. Don't know where.
Not a clue.
So indeed, I needed another one.
The elderly proprietor was so tickled at finding someone who gave a damn that he cut me a deal. How could I resist?
I think he'd had the book for years.
It's finally found a home.
唐詩三百首
The Three Hundred Tang Poems is a classic anthology compiled by the Retired Scholar of Heng Tang (衡塘退士 'hang tong teui-si', 1711 - 1778) during the Manchu Dynasty. All the greats are represented within, and since it was first published it has been a constant best-seller. For the truly literate, all is transparent. But like most people, my favourite verses are the ones that I can actually read entirely. Poems with too many words that I have to look up don't rank very high; it is only by repeated exposure that more examples get added to the list.
Many of the words are of little use in daily life.
Some only appear rarely at best.
Others not at all.
Evenso, re-reading the Three Hundred Poems of Tang is like revisiting lost places, which one had last seen very long ago, and again meeting the people who once were familiar.
Part of the reason for that is of course the re-sparked memories, but a larger part is due to the nature of Chinese literati versifying, namely to impart a sense of empathy with those who are elsewhere and elsewhen. Much of the output of the great poets was shaped by their own internal exiles and that of their friends and relatives, and a significant portion of what they wrote shared a sensitivity to time and place with the people whom they were sure would read their writings.
Fellow exiles, wanderers, transients.
Floating scholars.
Imagine the following sample as a series of letters floating in and out of inboxes, as members of the same social network communicate with each other and connect. Marginalia, perhaps; query or comment on their circumstances, certainly; the writers are observant, and show a heightened sensitivity to strange stimulation. Everything has newness.
As stigmata of their displacement, there is a sharp cognizance of detail.
夜雨寄北 YE YU JI BEI
By 李商隐 (Li Shangyin)
君問歸期未有期，巴山夜雨漲秋池。
何當共剪西窗燭，卻話巴山夜雨時。
Jūn wèn guī-qī wèi yǒu qī, bāshān yè yǔ zhǎng qiū chí.
Hé dāng gòng jiǎn xī chuāng zhú, què huà bā shān yè yǔ shí.
EVENING RAIN WHILE RESIDING IN THE NORTH
"You ask me when I will return, but I have no date set; the evening rain on Ba Mountain makes the autumn pool overflow; when shall we once more trim wicks together at the western window? Let's just say that it will be when autumn comes again on Ba Mountain."
YE YU GEI PAAK
Gwan man gwai kei mei yau kei, baa saan ye yu jeung chau chi;
Ho dong gong jin sai cheung juk, keuk wa baa saan ye yu si.
Note: 巴山夜雨漲秋池 can also be read to mean "my exile in this strange and godforsaken place has topped all extremes".
山行 SHAN XING
By 項斯 (Xiang Si)
青櫪林深亦有人，一渠流水數家分。
山當日午回峰影，草帶泥痕過鹿群。
蒸茗氣從茅舍出，繰絲聲隔竹籬聞。
行逢賣藥歸來客，不惜相隨入島雲。
Qīng lì lín shēn yì yǒu rén, yī qú liú shuǐ shǔ jiā fēn.
Shān dāng rì wǔ huí fēng yǐng, cǎo dài ní hén guò lù qún.
Zhēng míng qì cóng máo-shè chū, zǎo sī shēng gé zhú lí wén.
Xíng féng mài yào guī-lái kè, bù xī xiāng suí rù dǎo yún.
WANDERING IN THE MOUNTAINS
"In the verdant depths of the forest there are also people; along a stream there may live several households; during the day the sun delineates the peaks; grass casts stripes to hide the deer;
Tea fragrance comes from a rustic cottage; reeling silk whispersounds cross the garden fence; back from selling herbs the recluse wanders; with sure tread re-entering his island clouds."
SAAN HANG
Ching lik lam sam yik yau yan, yat keui lau seui sou gaa fan;
Saan dong yat ng wui fung, chou daai nai han gwo luk kwan.
Jhing ming hei chung maau se chut, chiu si seng gaak juk lei man;
Haang fung mai yeuk gwai loi haak, pat sik seung cheui yap dou wan.
夜雪 YE XUE
By 白居易 (Bai Juyi)
已訝衾枕冷，復見窗戶明。
夜深知雪重，時聞折竹聲。
Yǐ yà qīn zhěn lěng, fù jiàn chuāng-hù míng.
Yè shēn zhī xuě zhòng, shí wén zhé zhú shēng.
NIGHT SNOW
"Already astounded by the cold of my blanket and pillow, the brightness at the window added to that;
Late at night I knew the snow was thick, when I heard the cracking of bamboo."
YE SUET
yi ngaa kam ngam laang, fuk kin cheung wu ming;
ye sam ji suet chung, si man jit juk seng.
春雪 CHUN XUE
By 韓愈 (Han Yu)
新年都未有芳華，二月初驚見草芽。
白雪卻嫌春色晚，故穿庭樹作飛花。
Xīn nián dōu wèi yǒu fāng huá, èr yuè chū jīng jiàn cǎo yá.
Bái xuě què xián chūn-sè wǎn, gù chuān ting shù zuò fēi huā.
SPRING SNOW
"This new year still lacks fragrance, even by the second month it is startling to see buds;
Though white snow delays the colouration of Spring, a courtyard tree defiantly blossoms."
CHUN SUET
San nin dou mei yau fong waa, yi yuet cho geng kin chou ngaa;
Paak suet keuk yim cheun sik maan, gu chuen ting syue jok fei faa.
春思 CHUN SI
By 賈至 (Jia Zhi)
草色青青柳色黃，桃花歷亂李花香。
東風不為吹愁去，春日偏能惹恨長。
Cǎo-sè qīng-qīng liǔ-sè huáng, táo huā lì luàn li huā xiāng.
Dōng fēng bù wéi chuī chóu qù, chūn rì piān néng rě hèn zhǎng.
SPRING THOUGHTS
"Grasses are intensely green and the willows golden, peach trees riotously blooming and plums fragrant; The east wind does not blow to sadden, Spring days are not suitable for bitterness."
CHUN SI
Chou sik ching ching lau sik wong, tou faa lik-luen lei faa heung;
Tung fong pat wai cheui sau heui, cheun yat pin nang ye han cheung.
月夜憶舍弟 YUE YE YI SHE DI
By 杜甫 (Du Fu)
戍鼓斷人行，秋邊一雁聲。
露從今夜白，月是故鄉明。
有弟皆分散，無家問死生。
寄書長不避，況乃未休兵。
Shù gǔ duàn rén xíng, qiū biān yī yàn shēng.
Lù cóng jīn-yè bái, yuè shì gù-xiāng míng.
Yǒu dì jiē fēn sàn, wú jiā wèn sǐ shēng.
Jì shū cháng bù bì, kuàng nǎi wèi xiū bīng.
REMEMBERING MY BROTHERS BY MOONLIGHT
"Military drums cut the march, far off a migrating goose calls; Dew will be white from this night forward, and the moon is home-town bright;
My younger brothers are scattered hither and yon, with no one at home to ask whether they are alive or dead; mailed letters long await responses, and our troops have no relief."
YUET YE YI SE DAI
Syu gu duen yan hang, chau pin yat ngaan sing;
Lou chung gam ye paak, yue si gu heung ming.
Yau dai gaai fan saan, mou gaa man sei saang;
Gei syu cheung pat pei, fong naai mei yau bing.
It might not be too much to read a note of mild tension in these poems; there is no certainty, all termination is open-ended.
It is, on the other hand, relatively easy to understand how these poets appealed across the generations, when countless of their countrymen experienced distant postings, upheavals, changes of fortune, and displacement. Even today the simple straightforward evocation of something else, and something therefore exceptional, speaks in vibrant verse to the Chinese eye.
I am sorry; my paraphrasis of the texts in English cannot do them justice.
I have tried to give an idea of what they mean, and how they meant it.
POST SCRIPT
While waiting for the Pacific Avenue bus I encountered an old friend. She does not look worried now, and has changed jobs. I am not certain that her current employ gives her the time she needs for her daughter, but she seems less stressed. I hope it will work out.
She has that look of strength, vulnerability, and defiant stubbornness which I find so admirable among certain Cantonese women.
Seeing her again was marvelous.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
My senses did not let me down.
During lunch I ended up in conversation with a nice gentleman from Jiangsu (江蘇 'gong sou') province, long a resident of our city.
We had to share a table, and we ate similar things.
I would have had the preserved egg and lean pork porridge (皮蛋瘦肉粥 'pei daan sau yiuk juk'), except I noticed him ordering that, and I did not want to seem to be imitating. Besides, I speak Cantonese, and can read the stuff on the wall.
Show-off time: Request the congee with dried fish and peanuts (柴魚花生粥 'chaai-yü faa-sang juk'). It's written in Chinese.
"Firewood fish" (柴魚 'chaai yü') really tells you what it is. Fatty tuna blanched, dried over heat, fermented with specific strains of bacteria, and lastly sawed into pieces, fragmented, or even finely ground for flavouring. The Japanese use something very similar for their miso soup (味噌汁 'mei chang jap').
Instead of chaai-yü it's called katsuo bushi (鰹節 'gin jit').
I do not think I've ever discussed Old English, Middle English, Early Modern English, and Germanic linguistics with someone from Northern China before.
[Yes yes, I do know that Jiangsu is central-south. But it's far to the north of Lingnan (嶺南), two language groups removed from Canton, and pushing up against the Mandarin Belt. So it's north. Almost as north as you can get.]
His son is taking Latin (拉丁語) in college.
Which is almost as practical as 古文.
Or, for that matter, Old English.
[By the way: the first strophe of Beowulf (hwæt, we Gardena in geardagum, þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon, hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon) is identified as 'Icelandic' by Google Translate. This is giving those wall-fish eating heathens way too much credit. Instead, a different bunch of savages are lauded: the Bright Speared Danes.]
After a pleasant post-prandial chat we parted ways. I left the restaurant and lit a pipe, wandering first through Spofford (新呂宋巷 'san leui song hong'), then up to Hang Ah Alley (香雅巷 'heung ya hong'), which is now also called Pagoda Alley (寶塔巷 'pou taap hong'), before finally circling around through Waverly (天后廟街 'tin hou miu kai') and down to Grant (都板街 'dou pan kai'). Eventually, after finishing my pipe, I ended up in a cluster of indoor shops. Great Source Commercial.
Where I ended up purchasing a copy of the Three Hundred Poems of the Tang Dynasty. Of which I already have several copies.
That I cannot find.
See, the problem is that I keep pulling a copy to look something up, whereupon it ends up in another stack, eventually covered by other books...... Earlier today I tried to find Mathews Dictionary of Chinese, but neither copy of that could be found. I'm sure I have both of them somewhere. Along with all copies of the Three Hundred Poems.
Somewhere. Don't know where.
Not a clue.
So indeed, I needed another one.
The elderly proprietor was so tickled at finding someone who gave a damn that he cut me a deal. How could I resist?
I think he'd had the book for years.
It's finally found a home.
唐詩三百首
The Three Hundred Tang Poems is a classic anthology compiled by the Retired Scholar of Heng Tang (衡塘退士 'hang tong teui-si', 1711 - 1778) during the Manchu Dynasty. All the greats are represented within, and since it was first published it has been a constant best-seller. For the truly literate, all is transparent. But like most people, my favourite verses are the ones that I can actually read entirely. Poems with too many words that I have to look up don't rank very high; it is only by repeated exposure that more examples get added to the list.
Many of the words are of little use in daily life.
Some only appear rarely at best.
Others not at all.
Evenso, re-reading the Three Hundred Poems of Tang is like revisiting lost places, which one had last seen very long ago, and again meeting the people who once were familiar.
Part of the reason for that is of course the re-sparked memories, but a larger part is due to the nature of Chinese literati versifying, namely to impart a sense of empathy with those who are elsewhere and elsewhen. Much of the output of the great poets was shaped by their own internal exiles and that of their friends and relatives, and a significant portion of what they wrote shared a sensitivity to time and place with the people whom they were sure would read their writings.
Fellow exiles, wanderers, transients.
Floating scholars.
Imagine the following sample as a series of letters floating in and out of inboxes, as members of the same social network communicate with each other and connect. Marginalia, perhaps; query or comment on their circumstances, certainly; the writers are observant, and show a heightened sensitivity to strange stimulation. Everything has newness.
As stigmata of their displacement, there is a sharp cognizance of detail.
夜雨寄北 YE YU JI BEI
By 李商隐 (Li Shangyin)
君問歸期未有期，巴山夜雨漲秋池。
何當共剪西窗燭，卻話巴山夜雨時。
Jūn wèn guī-qī wèi yǒu qī, bāshān yè yǔ zhǎng qiū chí.
Hé dāng gòng jiǎn xī chuāng zhú, què huà bā shān yè yǔ shí.
EVENING RAIN WHILE RESIDING IN THE NORTH
"You ask me when I will return, but I have no date set; the evening rain on Ba Mountain makes the autumn pool overflow; when shall we once more trim wicks together at the western window? Let's just say that it will be when autumn comes again on Ba Mountain."
YE YU GEI PAAK
Gwan man gwai kei mei yau kei, baa saan ye yu jeung chau chi;
Ho dong gong jin sai cheung juk, keuk wa baa saan ye yu si.
Note: 巴山夜雨漲秋池 can also be read to mean "my exile in this strange and godforsaken place has topped all extremes".
山行 SHAN XING
By 項斯 (Xiang Si)
青櫪林深亦有人，一渠流水數家分。
山當日午回峰影，草帶泥痕過鹿群。
蒸茗氣從茅舍出，繰絲聲隔竹籬聞。
行逢賣藥歸來客，不惜相隨入島雲。
Qīng lì lín shēn yì yǒu rén, yī qú liú shuǐ shǔ jiā fēn.
Shān dāng rì wǔ huí fēng yǐng, cǎo dài ní hén guò lù qún.
Zhēng míng qì cóng máo-shè chū, zǎo sī shēng gé zhú lí wén.
Xíng féng mài yào guī-lái kè, bù xī xiāng suí rù dǎo yún.
WANDERING IN THE MOUNTAINS
"In the verdant depths of the forest there are also people; along a stream there may live several households; during the day the sun delineates the peaks; grass casts stripes to hide the deer;
Tea fragrance comes from a rustic cottage; reeling silk whispersounds cross the garden fence; back from selling herbs the recluse wanders; with sure tread re-entering his island clouds."
SAAN HANG
Ching lik lam sam yik yau yan, yat keui lau seui sou gaa fan;
Saan dong yat ng wui fung, chou daai nai han gwo luk kwan.
Jhing ming hei chung maau se chut, chiu si seng gaak juk lei man;
Haang fung mai yeuk gwai loi haak, pat sik seung cheui yap dou wan.
夜雪 YE XUE
By 白居易 (Bai Juyi)
已訝衾枕冷，復見窗戶明。
夜深知雪重，時聞折竹聲。
Yǐ yà qīn zhěn lěng, fù jiàn chuāng-hù míng.
Yè shēn zhī xuě zhòng, shí wén zhé zhú shēng.
NIGHT SNOW
"Already astounded by the cold of my blanket and pillow, the brightness at the window added to that;
Late at night I knew the snow was thick, when I heard the cracking of bamboo."
YE SUET
yi ngaa kam ngam laang, fuk kin cheung wu ming;
ye sam ji suet chung, si man jit juk seng.
春雪 CHUN XUE
By 韓愈 (Han Yu)
新年都未有芳華，二月初驚見草芽。
白雪卻嫌春色晚，故穿庭樹作飛花。
Xīn nián dōu wèi yǒu fāng huá, èr yuè chū jīng jiàn cǎo yá.
Bái xuě què xián chūn-sè wǎn, gù chuān ting shù zuò fēi huā.
SPRING SNOW
"This new year still lacks fragrance, even by the second month it is startling to see buds;
Though white snow delays the colouration of Spring, a courtyard tree defiantly blossoms."
CHUN SUET
San nin dou mei yau fong waa, yi yuet cho geng kin chou ngaa;
Paak suet keuk yim cheun sik maan, gu chuen ting syue jok fei faa.
春思 CHUN SI
By 賈至 (Jia Zhi)
草色青青柳色黃，桃花歷亂李花香。
東風不為吹愁去，春日偏能惹恨長。
Cǎo-sè qīng-qīng liǔ-sè huáng, táo huā lì luàn li huā xiāng.
Dōng fēng bù wéi chuī chóu qù, chūn rì piān néng rě hèn zhǎng.
SPRING THOUGHTS
"Grasses are intensely green and the willows golden, peach trees riotously blooming and plums fragrant; The east wind does not blow to sadden, Spring days are not suitable for bitterness."
CHUN SI
Chou sik ching ching lau sik wong, tou faa lik-luen lei faa heung;
Tung fong pat wai cheui sau heui, cheun yat pin nang ye han cheung.
月夜憶舍弟 YUE YE YI SHE DI
By 杜甫 (Du Fu)
戍鼓斷人行，秋邊一雁聲。
露從今夜白，月是故鄉明。
有弟皆分散，無家問死生。
寄書長不避，況乃未休兵。
Shù gǔ duàn rén xíng, qiū biān yī yàn shēng.
Lù cóng jīn-yè bái, yuè shì gù-xiāng míng.
Yǒu dì jiē fēn sàn, wú jiā wèn sǐ shēng.
Jì shū cháng bù bì, kuàng nǎi wèi xiū bīng.
REMEMBERING MY BROTHERS BY MOONLIGHT
"Military drums cut the march, far off a migrating goose calls; Dew will be white from this night forward, and the moon is home-town bright;
My younger brothers are scattered hither and yon, with no one at home to ask whether they are alive or dead; mailed letters long await responses, and our troops have no relief."
YUET YE YI SE DAI
Syu gu duen yan hang, chau pin yat ngaan sing;
Lou chung gam ye paak, yue si gu heung ming.
Yau dai gaai fan saan, mou gaa man sei saang;
Gei syu cheung pat pei, fong naai mei yau bing.
It might not be too much to read a note of mild tension in these poems; there is no certainty, all termination is open-ended.
It is, on the other hand, relatively easy to understand how these poets appealed across the generations, when countless of their countrymen experienced distant postings, upheavals, changes of fortune, and displacement. Even today the simple straightforward evocation of something else, and something therefore exceptional, speaks in vibrant verse to the Chinese eye.
I am sorry; my paraphrasis of the texts in English cannot do them justice.
I have tried to give an idea of what they mean, and how they meant it.
POST SCRIPT
While waiting for the Pacific Avenue bus I encountered an old friend. She does not look worried now, and has changed jobs. I am not certain that her current employ gives her the time she needs for her daughter, but she seems less stressed. I hope it will work out.
She has that look of strength, vulnerability, and defiant stubbornness which I find so admirable among certain Cantonese women.
Seeing her again was marvelous.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, March 30, 2013
A THEME OF SPRING: THE POEM 春怨 BY 金昌绪
The avid reader always associates the Spring Season with strife between the civilized world and the savages, as well as political rot. The less-than-avid reader may wonder at times why this is so.
The connection is orioles.
鸎
The oriole symbolizes spring and joy, song and sunlight, as expressed in the idiomatic expression 鶯歌燕舞 (Cantonese: ang goh, yin mou), referring to the warbling of some birds and the lively energy of others - orioles and swallows respectively, indicating that all is well with the world, the weather has improved, and prosperity is on the increase. What is significant is that both types of bird mentioned move north when the weather warms up, and thus harbinge the return of more pleasant days.
[Idiomatic expression: 成語 (seng yu). A large number of them can be found here, with explanations in English and Chinese. Many such expressions are common to both Mandarin and Cantonese, being drawn from literature, classical sources, songs and poetry, and as well as pithy turns of phrase.]
鶯歌燕舞
Orioles sing, swallows dance. Nicely put, and a blameless sentiment, except that one remembers a poem written during the Tang Dynasty showing a darker view of orioles; one that paints them as noisy pests that caused unhappiness in a woman yearning for the man she loved.
春怨
打起黃鶯兒，
莫教枝上啼。
啼時驚妾夢，
不得到遼西。
Spring Sorrow
Oh chase away those orioles,
Stop them singing in the tree!
Their cries destroyed my dream,
And I never reached Liao Hsi!
This broken verse quatrain by 金昌緒 (Jin Chang Xu; Cantonese: Kam Cheung-suei) evokes a husband stationed at the border between the Tang realm and the territory of the Khitans during one of the periodic wars in the north. His wife in the distant heartland imagines herself traveling towards his camp while dreaming, but the birds startle her awake ere she reaches her destination.
CHWUN YUEN
Daa-hei wong ang yi,
Mou gaau ji seung tai.
Tai si geng jip mong,
Pat tak dou Liu-Sai.
[Mandarin: Chun Yuan - 'Da qi huang ying er, mo jiao zhi shang ti. Ti shi jing qie meng, bu de dao liao xi'.]
BARBARIAN HORDES
Khitans? Who or what were the Khitans?
History shows that they were distant descendants of the Tunghu (東胡 tung wu; Eastern Hu), who were a plague upon the border for over a millenium before being destroyed by the Hsiungnu (匈奴 hung nou; clamorous slaves) in the second century BCE. The Tunghu were almost certainly speakers of a Mongolic language, about the linguistic affinity of the Hsiungnu comparatively little is known. Both groups were native to regions in Mongolia, Manchuria, North-Eastern China, and furthest Russia.
After their defeat, remnants of the Tunghu survived as the Wuhuan (烏桓) in Northern China, and the Hsianpei (鮮卑) in Manchuria and Mongolia.
[烏桓 Wuhuan: pronounced wu-wun in Cantonese. The first word is 'crow', with a secondary meaning of 'dark' or 'black', the last a type of tree. Ethnonym.
鮮卑 Hsianpei: pronounced sin-pai in Cantonese, meaning approximately 'freshly despicable'. Significant branches of the Hsianpei included the Murong (慕容 mou-yung; admirable appearance), Yuwen (宇文 yiu-man; structure texts), Tuoba (拓跋 tok-bat; support epilogue or colophon), Duanshi (段氏 tuen-si; section clan), Chifu (乞伏 hat-fuk; beg & conceal), the Tufa (秃發 tuk-fa; baldness issue), et multo plura. ]
For the next several centuries, Chinese rulers often supported the Hsiungnu and the Hsianpei against each other as a means of keeping peace on the border by promoting butchery in the wastelands. This was an effective and pragmatic approach, which the rapacity of the threatening tribes more than justified.
By the third century CE the Hsianpei confederacy dissipated, and various sections established their own polities. The Murong, as one of the more important groups, founded the Former Yan (前燕 chin yin, 337-370 CE), Western Yan (西燕 sai yin, 384-394 CE), Later Yan (後燕 hau yin, 384-409 CE). The Tuoba ruled a part of north-east China as the Northern Wei Dynasty (北魏朝 paak ngai chiu; the northern awesomely-overtowering dynasty) from 386 to 534 CE.
The Khitan (契丹 kaai daan; contract or bond, cinnabar) were slower to establish themselves as pests, however. Their rapacious tendencies, while long evident, did not become manifested as an independent kingdom till the twilight years of the Tang dynasty. In 907 CE they founded the Liao state (遼 liu; distant or far) in what is now Liaoning (遼寧 liu ning; "pacified Liao"), which was defeated by the Jurchen in 1125, when that latter group of proto-Manchus styled themselves the Jin Dynasty (金朝 kam chiu: 1115–1234 CE). The survivors fled into Central Asia and founded the Western Liao Khanate (西遼朝 sai liu chiu: 1124-1218 CE).
Both the Khitan (Liao) and the Jurchen (Jin) were overrun by the Mongols.
The first in 1218, the latter in 1234.
The Mongols were not only the scourge of nations, but the most savagely brutal and reprehensible of all the barbarians to rupture from the deserts.
After the destruction they wrought, much was permanently altered.
The Khitans disappeared, the Jurchens eventually became the Manchus, and subjugated both China and the tribes on the frontiers (including the Mongols), founding the Ching Empire (大清帝國 daai ching dai kwok; great clearness imperial state) and taking Beijing (北京 paak keng; northern capital) in 1644.
遼西 LIAO HSI
[The following paragraphs are parentheses-rich, for which I apologize.]
The principal river in North-East China is the Liao He (遼河 liu ho; distant river), originating in Inner Mongolia, separating the modern-day Chinese provinces Liaoning (遼寧 liu neng; the pacified or settled marches) and Liaotung (遼東 liu tung; the eastern marches), before terminating in the Gulf of Chihli (直隸海灣 jik lai hoi waan; erect servant bay, now called Bohai - 渤海 but hoi; swelling sea).
The provincial capital of Liaoning, Shenyang city (瀋陽 sam yeung; liquid masculine), formerly called Shengjing (盛京 sing-keng; abundant metropole) and also known as Mukden, was where the Manchus built their first imperial palace, nineteen years before they broke through into Sina trans mura and entered Peking in 1644. Even after consolidating their hold on the civilized world, Shengjing remained their ancestral urbis clarissimae.
During the centuries before the Hsianpei and Jurchen became significant the place was called Houcheng (候城 hau sing; expect city), later becoming Fengtian Fu (奉天府 fung tin fu; esteem heaven prefectoral city). Around 300 BCE during the rule of the Yan Dynasty (燕國 yin kwok; swallow country, extant from circa 1045 BCE till conquered by Qin Shihuang* in 222 BCE) the name was changed to Shen Zhou (瀋州 sam jau; pouring state), which the Mongols changed to Shenyang Lu (瀋陽路 sam yeung lou; the Shenyang administrative circuit).
It was subsequently renamed Shenyang Zhongwai (瀋陽中衛 sam yeung jung wai: the Shenyang central commandery) during the Ming period.
In 1914, three years after the fall of the Ching Dynasty, it was given the current name (瀋陽), the meaning of which shows that it is on the sunny side of the Shen River (瀋水 sam seui; pouring water).
[Qin Shihuang (秦始皇 cheun chi-wong; 259 – 210 BCE): founder of the Qin Dynasty (秦朝 cheun chiu; 221 - 206 BCE). Notable achievements include unifying China and terrorizing his subjects. He was followed by his son, an incompetent who met his death in 207 BCE. Note that the term Qin (秦) is the dynastic appellation and an ancient toponym, shihuang (始皇) merely means 'first emperor'. His personal name was Zhao Zheng (趙政 Jiu Jing).]
奉天 "MUKDEN"
As just one instance of the friability of the area, this is the arena where the Japanese created a pretext in 1931 for the invasion of northeastern China. Shenyang was still referred to as Mukden in the Manchu language at the time. After an explosion near a Japanese railway line at Five Willows Lake (柳條湖 Liǔtiáohú; 'lau tiu wu'), staged by rogue officers, the Imperial Japanese Government blamed Chinese bandits, and massively invaded, defeating the garrison troops of Chang Hsue-liang (張學良 Zhāng Xuéliáng; 'cheung hok leung') stationed at the Northern Great Barracks (北大營 běidàyíng; 'baak daai ying') in a few scant hours. They went on to conquer all of Manchuria, and proclaimed the formation of the "Great Manchurian Empire" (大滿洲帝國 Dà Mǎnzhōu Dìguó; 'daai mun jau dai kwok') on February eighteen of the following year.
As their "head of state", the Japanese chose Aisin-Gioro Pu-yi (愛新覺羅·溥儀 Àixīnjuéluó·Pǔyí; 'ngoi san gaau lou·pou yi'), formerly known as the Hsuan-t'ung Emperor (宣統皇帝 Xuāntǒng Huángdì; 'suen tung wong dai') whose abdication in 1912 ended the Manchu era and the imperial age.
The entire watershed of the Liao river and its tributaries was always considered a distant and unstable region, and even today is still partly barbaric. Although Chinese have always lived there -- frequently in internal exile or posted on the frontier -- it was a part of the civilized world that was not infrequently subject to rapine by outside tribes; the Di (狄、翟 dik) and Rong (戎 yung) peoples, then the Hsiungnu, Hsianpei, Khitan, Jin, Mongol, Turk, and Manchu.
遼東郡與遼西郡
LIU TUNG GWAN AND LIU SAI GWAN
During the Tang era, the eastern and western Liao commandaries (遼東郡、遼西郡) along the northern frontier were frequently in a state of chaos, as the Khitans, though nominally subjected, were not well subjugated.
Generations of soldiers and officials were dispatched to pacify the region, their absence much lamented by the relatives they left behind.
In the quatrain cited at the beginning of this essay, the poet speaks as if in the voice of one such family member, utilizing the customary first person self-depreciating term 'qie' (妾 jip; your servant, concubine) employed by wives in that day and age. It is a literary conceit, which allows him to obliquely criticize the government. Surely if politicians are competent and just, all under heaven (天下 tin haa; 'podnebesnaya' ) will be at peace?
Perhaps things are seriously flawed at the imperial court; otherwise such circumstances could not arise, and people would not suffer.
Note: Separation of couples when husbands were sent to the border is an extremely common theme in Chinese literature; the territories at the Great Wall (長城 cheung sing; long fortification) were a source of danger for millennia.
Afterthought: The operative word in all of this may be 緖 (seui: mental thread, clue, state of mind). Which is also part of the name of the poet whose quatrain was cited. It is a very useful word, obviously.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
The connection is orioles.
鸎
The oriole symbolizes spring and joy, song and sunlight, as expressed in the idiomatic expression 鶯歌燕舞 (Cantonese: ang goh, yin mou), referring to the warbling of some birds and the lively energy of others - orioles and swallows respectively, indicating that all is well with the world, the weather has improved, and prosperity is on the increase. What is significant is that both types of bird mentioned move north when the weather warms up, and thus harbinge the return of more pleasant days.
[Idiomatic expression: 成語 (seng yu). A large number of them can be found here, with explanations in English and Chinese. Many such expressions are common to both Mandarin and Cantonese, being drawn from literature, classical sources, songs and poetry, and as well as pithy turns of phrase.]
鶯歌燕舞
Orioles sing, swallows dance. Nicely put, and a blameless sentiment, except that one remembers a poem written during the Tang Dynasty showing a darker view of orioles; one that paints them as noisy pests that caused unhappiness in a woman yearning for the man she loved.
春怨
打起黃鶯兒，
莫教枝上啼。
啼時驚妾夢，
不得到遼西。
Spring Sorrow
Oh chase away those orioles,
Stop them singing in the tree!
Their cries destroyed my dream,
And I never reached Liao Hsi!
This broken verse quatrain by 金昌緒 (Jin Chang Xu; Cantonese: Kam Cheung-suei) evokes a husband stationed at the border between the Tang realm and the territory of the Khitans during one of the periodic wars in the north. His wife in the distant heartland imagines herself traveling towards his camp while dreaming, but the birds startle her awake ere she reaches her destination.
CHWUN YUEN
Daa-hei wong ang yi,
Mou gaau ji seung tai.
Tai si geng jip mong,
Pat tak dou Liu-Sai.
[Mandarin: Chun Yuan - 'Da qi huang ying er, mo jiao zhi shang ti. Ti shi jing qie meng, bu de dao liao xi'.]
BARBARIAN HORDES
Khitans? Who or what were the Khitans?
History shows that they were distant descendants of the Tunghu (東胡 tung wu; Eastern Hu), who were a plague upon the border for over a millenium before being destroyed by the Hsiungnu (匈奴 hung nou; clamorous slaves) in the second century BCE. The Tunghu were almost certainly speakers of a Mongolic language, about the linguistic affinity of the Hsiungnu comparatively little is known. Both groups were native to regions in Mongolia, Manchuria, North-Eastern China, and furthest Russia.
After their defeat, remnants of the Tunghu survived as the Wuhuan (烏桓) in Northern China, and the Hsianpei (鮮卑) in Manchuria and Mongolia.
[烏桓 Wuhuan: pronounced wu-wun in Cantonese. The first word is 'crow', with a secondary meaning of 'dark' or 'black', the last a type of tree. Ethnonym.
鮮卑 Hsianpei: pronounced sin-pai in Cantonese, meaning approximately 'freshly despicable'. Significant branches of the Hsianpei included the Murong (慕容 mou-yung; admirable appearance), Yuwen (宇文 yiu-man; structure texts), Tuoba (拓跋 tok-bat; support epilogue or colophon), Duanshi (段氏 tuen-si; section clan), Chifu (乞伏 hat-fuk; beg & conceal), the Tufa (秃發 tuk-fa; baldness issue), et multo plura. ]
For the next several centuries, Chinese rulers often supported the Hsiungnu and the Hsianpei against each other as a means of keeping peace on the border by promoting butchery in the wastelands. This was an effective and pragmatic approach, which the rapacity of the threatening tribes more than justified.
By the third century CE the Hsianpei confederacy dissipated, and various sections established their own polities. The Murong, as one of the more important groups, founded the Former Yan (前燕 chin yin, 337-370 CE), Western Yan (西燕 sai yin, 384-394 CE), Later Yan (後燕 hau yin, 384-409 CE). The Tuoba ruled a part of north-east China as the Northern Wei Dynasty (北魏朝 paak ngai chiu; the northern awesomely-overtowering dynasty) from 386 to 534 CE.
The Khitan (契丹 kaai daan; contract or bond, cinnabar) were slower to establish themselves as pests, however. Their rapacious tendencies, while long evident, did not become manifested as an independent kingdom till the twilight years of the Tang dynasty. In 907 CE they founded the Liao state (遼 liu; distant or far) in what is now Liaoning (遼寧 liu ning; "pacified Liao"), which was defeated by the Jurchen in 1125, when that latter group of proto-Manchus styled themselves the Jin Dynasty (金朝 kam chiu: 1115–1234 CE). The survivors fled into Central Asia and founded the Western Liao Khanate (西遼朝 sai liu chiu: 1124-1218 CE).
Both the Khitan (Liao) and the Jurchen (Jin) were overrun by the Mongols.
The first in 1218, the latter in 1234.
The Mongols were not only the scourge of nations, but the most savagely brutal and reprehensible of all the barbarians to rupture from the deserts.
After the destruction they wrought, much was permanently altered.
The Khitans disappeared, the Jurchens eventually became the Manchus, and subjugated both China and the tribes on the frontiers (including the Mongols), founding the Ching Empire (大清帝國 daai ching dai kwok; great clearness imperial state) and taking Beijing (北京 paak keng; northern capital) in 1644.
遼西 LIAO HSI
[The following paragraphs are parentheses-rich, for which I apologize.]
The principal river in North-East China is the Liao He (遼河 liu ho; distant river), originating in Inner Mongolia, separating the modern-day Chinese provinces Liaoning (遼寧 liu neng; the pacified or settled marches) and Liaotung (遼東 liu tung; the eastern marches), before terminating in the Gulf of Chihli (直隸海灣 jik lai hoi waan; erect servant bay, now called Bohai - 渤海 but hoi; swelling sea).
The provincial capital of Liaoning, Shenyang city (瀋陽 sam yeung; liquid masculine), formerly called Shengjing (盛京 sing-keng; abundant metropole) and also known as Mukden, was where the Manchus built their first imperial palace, nineteen years before they broke through into Sina trans mura and entered Peking in 1644. Even after consolidating their hold on the civilized world, Shengjing remained their ancestral urbis clarissimae.
During the centuries before the Hsianpei and Jurchen became significant the place was called Houcheng (候城 hau sing; expect city), later becoming Fengtian Fu (奉天府 fung tin fu; esteem heaven prefectoral city). Around 300 BCE during the rule of the Yan Dynasty (燕國 yin kwok; swallow country, extant from circa 1045 BCE till conquered by Qin Shihuang* in 222 BCE) the name was changed to Shen Zhou (瀋州 sam jau; pouring state), which the Mongols changed to Shenyang Lu (瀋陽路 sam yeung lou; the Shenyang administrative circuit).
It was subsequently renamed Shenyang Zhongwai (瀋陽中衛 sam yeung jung wai: the Shenyang central commandery) during the Ming period.
In 1914, three years after the fall of the Ching Dynasty, it was given the current name (瀋陽), the meaning of which shows that it is on the sunny side of the Shen River (瀋水 sam seui; pouring water).
[Qin Shihuang (秦始皇 cheun chi-wong; 259 – 210 BCE): founder of the Qin Dynasty (秦朝 cheun chiu; 221 - 206 BCE). Notable achievements include unifying China and terrorizing his subjects. He was followed by his son, an incompetent who met his death in 207 BCE. Note that the term Qin (秦) is the dynastic appellation and an ancient toponym, shihuang (始皇) merely means 'first emperor'. His personal name was Zhao Zheng (趙政 Jiu Jing).]
奉天 "MUKDEN"
As just one instance of the friability of the area, this is the arena where the Japanese created a pretext in 1931 for the invasion of northeastern China. Shenyang was still referred to as Mukden in the Manchu language at the time. After an explosion near a Japanese railway line at Five Willows Lake (柳條湖 Liǔtiáohú; 'lau tiu wu'), staged by rogue officers, the Imperial Japanese Government blamed Chinese bandits, and massively invaded, defeating the garrison troops of Chang Hsue-liang (張學良 Zhāng Xuéliáng; 'cheung hok leung') stationed at the Northern Great Barracks (北大營 běidàyíng; 'baak daai ying') in a few scant hours. They went on to conquer all of Manchuria, and proclaimed the formation of the "Great Manchurian Empire" (大滿洲帝國 Dà Mǎnzhōu Dìguó; 'daai mun jau dai kwok') on February eighteen of the following year.
As their "head of state", the Japanese chose Aisin-Gioro Pu-yi (愛新覺羅·溥儀 Àixīnjuéluó·Pǔyí; 'ngoi san gaau lou·pou yi'), formerly known as the Hsuan-t'ung Emperor (宣統皇帝 Xuāntǒng Huángdì; 'suen tung wong dai') whose abdication in 1912 ended the Manchu era and the imperial age.
The entire watershed of the Liao river and its tributaries was always considered a distant and unstable region, and even today is still partly barbaric. Although Chinese have always lived there -- frequently in internal exile or posted on the frontier -- it was a part of the civilized world that was not infrequently subject to rapine by outside tribes; the Di (狄、翟 dik) and Rong (戎 yung) peoples, then the Hsiungnu, Hsianpei, Khitan, Jin, Mongol, Turk, and Manchu.
遼東郡與遼西郡
LIU TUNG GWAN AND LIU SAI GWAN
During the Tang era, the eastern and western Liao commandaries (遼東郡、遼西郡) along the northern frontier were frequently in a state of chaos, as the Khitans, though nominally subjected, were not well subjugated.
Generations of soldiers and officials were dispatched to pacify the region, their absence much lamented by the relatives they left behind.
In the quatrain cited at the beginning of this essay, the poet speaks as if in the voice of one such family member, utilizing the customary first person self-depreciating term 'qie' (妾 jip; your servant, concubine) employed by wives in that day and age. It is a literary conceit, which allows him to obliquely criticize the government. Surely if politicians are competent and just, all under heaven (天下 tin haa; 'podnebesnaya' ) will be at peace?
Perhaps things are seriously flawed at the imperial court; otherwise such circumstances could not arise, and people would not suffer.
Note: Separation of couples when husbands were sent to the border is an extremely common theme in Chinese literature; the territories at the Great Wall (長城 cheung sing; long fortification) were a source of danger for millennia.
Afterthought: The operative word in all of this may be 緖 (seui: mental thread, clue, state of mind). Which is also part of the name of the poet whose quatrain was cited. It is a very useful word, obviously.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
FIRES ALONG THE BORDER
While the Tang Dynasty (唐朝, 618 CE to 907 CE) is rightly considered one of China’s golden ages, because of the huge amount of art and literature that was created during the long prosperous years of peace under able emperors, there were always pockets of flame flickering here and there in the empire. Not all the barbarians brought under the imperial sway were equally pleased to be part of the most cosmopolitan society that existed on earth, nor were some of them even remotely capable of appreciating the warm embrace of civilization.
THE PESTILENTIAL SCOURGE
This is not surprising, when you consider that many malcontents were Turks. Their ancestors had assaulted the borders for over a millennium, bent on slaughter, rapine, and pillage. It wasn’t till very many generations after the fall of Tang that some Turkish tribes would actually acquire a written language and more acceptable manners.
During the eighth and ninth centuries they were still vicious savages happily despoiling all settled societies within reach.
The Chinese frontier, even during the height of Tang power, always tempted confederacies of horse-borne brigands, who would search out weak spots, and strike at opportune moments. Sometimes they succeeded in breaking through the wall, and laid waste to entire provinces.
Yes, I know. It isn’t politically correct to talk about an ethnic group in such disparaging terms. Even the Turks.
But were it not for their greed, bloodlust, depraved savagery, and brutal opportunism, the thousand mile wall to keep them out would never have been necessary, let alone built. The Great Wall more than anything else preserved China, and persuaded the heathen desert demons to expand westward, where their descendants eventually raped Russia, destroyed the Caliphates, and conquered Byzantium.
Until the extermination of the Zhungar Khanate by the Ching under Chienlung (乾隆帝) in 1755, which served as a splendid object-lesson to the other wasteland terror-ethnicities, the eastern Turks and Turco-Mongols were kept at bay at best, feared as inhuman monsters at worst.
The three thousand year struggle to keep the heartland from being ravaged by the barbarians beyond the wall occupied the government of every dynasty, created an undying cultural memory of threat and immense sacrifice, and also inspired great literature.
That last far outweighs any contribution from the other side.
Whose impact worldwide has been mostly desolation.
Now, having riled up your liberal sentiments, possibly offended you (ESPECIALLY if you are a cultural relativist, a socialist, or simply ignorant), and having also perhaps insulted your ancestors, if you have the ghastly bad karma to actually be descended from the bestial hordes, here are a few lines of poetry from the height of the Tang period that express beautifully what the long frontier meant to the Chinese.
隴西行 LUNG-SAI HANG
陳陶
誓掃匈奴不顧身, 五千貂錦喪胡塵。
可憐無定河邊骨, 猶是深閨夢裡人。
Sai sou hung-nou bat gu san, ng-chien diu-gam song wu-chan;
Ho-lin mo-ding ho pin gwat, yau si sam-gwai mung-leui yan.
THE TURKESTAN CAMPAIGN
By Chan Tou (Chen Tao)
"Sworn to crush the Hsiungnu without considering themselves, five thousand clad in fur and silk lie buried in the Tatar dust;
How pitiable, those bones by the river of shifting sands, that still populate their widows' dreams."
[Notes: 匈奴 hung nou: an ancient term for the barbarians; 'Hun'. 貂錦 diu-gam: sable and silk, metaphorically the splendid accoutrements of imperial service. 可憐 ho-lin: how sad, how pitiable! 深閨夢 sam-gwai mung: dreams in the women's quarters. ]
夜上受降城聞笛 YE SEUNG SAU HONG SENG MAN DAK
李益
回樂峰前沙似雪, 受降城外月如霜。
不知何處吹蘆管, 一夜征人盡望鄉。
Wui lok fung chin saa chi suet, sau-hong seng-ngoi yuet yu seung;
Pat-chi ho chyu cheui lou gun, yat ye jing-yan cheun mong heung.
AT NIGHT HEARING A FLUTE ON THE CITY WALL AT SHOU-HSIANG
By Lei Yik (Li Yi)
"The sands before Hui-Le Peak seem like snow, beyond Accept-Surrender city the moon shows frost;
Not knowing from where the flute sound comes, all night long recruits think of home."
征人怨 JING -YAN YUEN
柳中庸
歲歲金河復玉關, 朝朝馬策與刀環。
三春白雪歸青塚, 萬里黃河繞黑山。
Seui-seui gam ho fu yuk gwaan, chiu-chiu maa-chaak yu dou-waan;
Saam cheun pak suet gwai ching chung, maan lei wong ho yiu haak saan.
A SOLDIER'S RESENTMENT
By Lau Jung-yung (Liu Zhongyong)
"Year upon year returning to the Jade Pass, age after age of horsewhips and sword hilts;
Three springtimes now snow has blanketed green graves, for a thousand miles the Yellow River girds Black Mountain."
[Notes: Dense visual imagery posed in contrast - snow versus the grasses growing on tombs, as ceaselessly the troops come to guard the frontier; though just the latest recruits in this eternal war, the writer states that for three years they has seen the seasons shift here, but the heartland (Huang Ho: 'Yellow River') will remain constant and timeless.]
AFTERWORD
The phonetic transcription I have given is based on the Cantonese language. This is fitting not only because many of the Chinese in San Francisco speak Cantonese, but also because the Cantonese are the only group to refer to themselves as 'Men of Tang' (Tong yan: 唐人), and their language as 'Tang-speech' (Tong-wa: 唐話).
It is also suitable, because the poetry of that era still mostly rhymes when voiced in their language, the last and greatest descendant of the koine of Tang
The barbarians are yet at the gates, by the way. But they are vastly outnumbered now, and have become rather less relevant since the conquest of Chinese Turkestan (Xinjiang: 新疆) by the Ching Dynasty.
Other than occasional outbursts of irredentist violence, they have no significance.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
THE PESTILENTIAL SCOURGE
This is not surprising, when you consider that many malcontents were Turks. Their ancestors had assaulted the borders for over a millennium, bent on slaughter, rapine, and pillage. It wasn’t till very many generations after the fall of Tang that some Turkish tribes would actually acquire a written language and more acceptable manners.
During the eighth and ninth centuries they were still vicious savages happily despoiling all settled societies within reach.
The Chinese frontier, even during the height of Tang power, always tempted confederacies of horse-borne brigands, who would search out weak spots, and strike at opportune moments. Sometimes they succeeded in breaking through the wall, and laid waste to entire provinces.
Yes, I know. It isn’t politically correct to talk about an ethnic group in such disparaging terms. Even the Turks.
But were it not for their greed, bloodlust, depraved savagery, and brutal opportunism, the thousand mile wall to keep them out would never have been necessary, let alone built. The Great Wall more than anything else preserved China, and persuaded the heathen desert demons to expand westward, where their descendants eventually raped Russia, destroyed the Caliphates, and conquered Byzantium.
Until the extermination of the Zhungar Khanate by the Ching under Chienlung (乾隆帝) in 1755, which served as a splendid object-lesson to the other wasteland terror-ethnicities, the eastern Turks and Turco-Mongols were kept at bay at best, feared as inhuman monsters at worst.
The three thousand year struggle to keep the heartland from being ravaged by the barbarians beyond the wall occupied the government of every dynasty, created an undying cultural memory of threat and immense sacrifice, and also inspired great literature.
That last far outweighs any contribution from the other side.
Whose impact worldwide has been mostly desolation.
Now, having riled up your liberal sentiments, possibly offended you (ESPECIALLY if you are a cultural relativist, a socialist, or simply ignorant), and having also perhaps insulted your ancestors, if you have the ghastly bad karma to actually be descended from the bestial hordes, here are a few lines of poetry from the height of the Tang period that express beautifully what the long frontier meant to the Chinese.
隴西行 LUNG-SAI HANG
陳陶
誓掃匈奴不顧身, 五千貂錦喪胡塵。
可憐無定河邊骨, 猶是深閨夢裡人。
Sai sou hung-nou bat gu san, ng-chien diu-gam song wu-chan;
Ho-lin mo-ding ho pin gwat, yau si sam-gwai mung-leui yan.
THE TURKESTAN CAMPAIGN
By Chan Tou (Chen Tao)
"Sworn to crush the Hsiungnu without considering themselves, five thousand clad in fur and silk lie buried in the Tatar dust;
How pitiable, those bones by the river of shifting sands, that still populate their widows' dreams."
[Notes: 匈奴 hung nou: an ancient term for the barbarians; 'Hun'. 貂錦 diu-gam: sable and silk, metaphorically the splendid accoutrements of imperial service. 可憐 ho-lin: how sad, how pitiable! 深閨夢 sam-gwai mung: dreams in the women's quarters. ]
夜上受降城聞笛 YE SEUNG SAU HONG SENG MAN DAK
李益
回樂峰前沙似雪, 受降城外月如霜。
不知何處吹蘆管, 一夜征人盡望鄉。
Wui lok fung chin saa chi suet, sau-hong seng-ngoi yuet yu seung;
Pat-chi ho chyu cheui lou gun, yat ye jing-yan cheun mong heung.
AT NIGHT HEARING A FLUTE ON THE CITY WALL AT SHOU-HSIANG
By Lei Yik (Li Yi)
"The sands before Hui-Le Peak seem like snow, beyond Accept-Surrender city the moon shows frost;
Not knowing from where the flute sound comes, all night long recruits think of home."
征人怨 JING -YAN YUEN
柳中庸
歲歲金河復玉關, 朝朝馬策與刀環。
三春白雪歸青塚, 萬里黃河繞黑山。
Seui-seui gam ho fu yuk gwaan, chiu-chiu maa-chaak yu dou-waan;
Saam cheun pak suet gwai ching chung, maan lei wong ho yiu haak saan.
A SOLDIER'S RESENTMENT
By Lau Jung-yung (Liu Zhongyong)
"Year upon year returning to the Jade Pass, age after age of horsewhips and sword hilts;
Three springtimes now snow has blanketed green graves, for a thousand miles the Yellow River girds Black Mountain."
[Notes: Dense visual imagery posed in contrast - snow versus the grasses growing on tombs, as ceaselessly the troops come to guard the frontier; though just the latest recruits in this eternal war, the writer states that for three years they has seen the seasons shift here, but the heartland (Huang Ho: 'Yellow River') will remain constant and timeless.]
AFTERWORD
The phonetic transcription I have given is based on the Cantonese language. This is fitting not only because many of the Chinese in San Francisco speak Cantonese, but also because the Cantonese are the only group to refer to themselves as 'Men of Tang' (Tong yan: 唐人), and their language as 'Tang-speech' (Tong-wa: 唐話).
It is also suitable, because the poetry of that era still mostly rhymes when voiced in their language, the last and greatest descendant of the koine of Tang
The barbarians are yet at the gates, by the way. But they are vastly outnumbered now, and have become rather less relevant since the conquest of Chinese Turkestan (Xinjiang: 新疆) by the Ching Dynasty.
Other than occasional outbursts of irredentist violence, they have no significance.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
DEATH ON MA WEI SLOPE
The astute reader will have noticed the clickable label 唐人街 under several posts discussing Chinatown on this blog.
The words 唐人街 ('Tong-Yan Kai') literally mean Tang Person Street - that being the name for the Chinese district in San Francisco, as well as most Chinatowns elsewhere. It is strictly a Cantonese term; the Cantonese refer to themselves as men of Tang, after China's arguably most splendid era.
In the Western World, the Tang dynasty is known mainly for San-Tsai pottery and horse paintings, whereas to the Chinese that period is famous primarily for poetry, fat beauties, and Turks.
The Cantonese, like all Chinese, take great pride in the poetry.
Not so much the fat beauties or the Turks.
Here in San Francisco we have Chinese people, and also enough plump hell-cats to make an emperor drool. Quite likely we have Turks as well.
[Honestly, what is it with modern San Francisco girls? Why do so many of them pack more poundage than I do? Why is there such a surfeit of young ladies here, so much younger than yours truly yet so much heavier? I'm a mature man, Fercrapsakes!
I'm not supposed to look trimmer and spryer than you lot! Really!]
No other Chinese describe themselves as Tang, only the Cantonese. It is deliciously odd.
INCESTUOUS THREATS
The Tang Dynasty (Tong Chiew: 唐朝 - anno 618 CE to 907 CE) was one of the high-water marks of Chinese civilization, during which the empire reached its furthest expanse. Great advances in the arts and sciences were made, and due to the many splendid achievements, especially in literature, the Tang Dynasty truly counts as one of the golden ages of human history.
Yet there was always a haunting sense of fragility.
Several societies have traditionally been endangered by howling savages from the north - Rome had the Germanic tribes, Israel has the Lebanese, and we have the Canadians.
China for centuries has had the Turks.
More than the fashionably fat temptresses beloved by the grandees of the capital, the constant threat of invasion by barbarians from beyond the frontier shaped Tang society. Scholars and officials for generations either were posted north to fend off the fur-clad mob, or fled south to escape their depredations. The sight of men on horseback was a constant in metropoles north of the Yangtze, and returnees told harrowing tales of deprivation and endurance in the waste lands.
Ironically the Tang Dynasty itself was actually part Turkish, albeit long Sinicized and acclimatized. The ruling clan, and of much of the Northern aristocracy, had been on the frontier for generations, and represented a subculture that was more-or-less Chinese politically, but had overmuch in common with the tribes that beset the border.
The ancestors of many such clans had been heathen warlords co-opted by titles and power, and gradually brought into the civilized fold.
They were 'gentled' by their association with Chinese culture, but not entirely converted - during periods of instability, their opportunism and rapacious native tendencies would resurface.
The following poem adds to that irony - it references the killing of the emperor's concubine during a period of crypto-Turkic rebellion and bloodshed.
Now please note: the ruling family of Tang was named Li (Lei: 李), a surname that very often indicates a Barbaric origin (hence so many Turco-Chinese, Koreans, Vietnamese, and others of questionable antecedents thus appelled). The lady in this quatrain was surnamed Yang (Yeung: 楊), that being also the name of the crypto-Turkic clan that the Lis of Tang had superceded (and both she herself as well as her lord were in fact related by blood to the previous dynasty), yet Yang is a very Chinese name with absolutely no heathen hue.
Though people with these surnames are USUALLY fully Chinese, these particular Lis and Yangs were MOSTLY of 'foreign' origin.
This poem could NOT be more Chinese - yet the people in it were barely so.
If anything, they were Tang.
馬嵬坡 - MA WEI PO
玄宗回馬楊妃死， 雲雨難忘日月新。
終是聖明天子事， 景陽宮井又何人。
[詩者: 鄭畋]
MA NGAI PO ('Ma Wei Slope')
Yun-Tsong wui ma Yeung-Fei sei,
Wan-yiu naan-mong yat-yuet san;
Jung-si Sing-Ming tien-ji si,
Ging-Yeung Gung jeng yau ho-yan?
[Written by Zheng Tian (Jeng Tin 鄭畋) ]
Translation:
Hsuan-Tsung return horse Yang honoured consort dead,
Cloud-rain difficult forget day month new;
Finality indeed Sheng-Ming son-of-heaven business,
Ching-Yang Palace waterwell once-more who?
Paraphrasis:
When Hsuan-Tsung came back from his ride Lady Yang was already dead,
His love for her will be remembered for all eternity;
‘Recollect the affair of the Sing-Ming emperor............
And who (also) ended up in the well at the Ging-Yeung Palace?’
In short, while the emperor was off riding, his soldiers killed his concubine, whose family they hated.
CLARIFICATORY BACKGROUND
In the year 712 CE Li Longji (Lei LungKei: 李隆基 born 685 CE, died 762 CE) became the seventh emperor of the Tang Dynasty (styled Tang Hsuan-Tsung / Tong Yun-Tsong: 唐玄宗), reigning till 756 CE. After several years of quite able rule, he grew lax and careless, eventually bringing the empire to the edge of ruin. The name most associated with this latter period is Yang Kweifei - the imperial consort Yang.
Yang Yu-Hwan (Yeung Yiuk-Waan: 楊玉環 - born 719 CE, died 756 CE), the daughter of Yang Hsuan-Yan (Yeung Yun-Yim: 楊玄琰), was the wife of Hsuan-Tsung's son the Prince of Shou. After emperor Hsuan-Tsung noticed her, she divorced her husband, became a Buddhist nun for while to ensure plausible deniability, then rejoined the world (circa 737 or 738 CE) and became the emperor's concubine, receiving the title kweifei (gwaifei: 貴妃 honoured consort).
[The Prince of Shou (Sau Wong: 壽王): Li Mao (Lei Mo: 李瑁) born 715 CE died 775 CE. The eighteenth son of the emperor, whose mother was Consort Wu (Wu Wuifei / Mou Waifei 武惠妃), daughter of a clan that had nearly usurped the throne in a previous generation. Consort Wu never became empress due to the extreme wariness of court officials, who remembered what had happened. She never the less had great status and influence in the palace, and was deferred to as the highest lady in the land. She died in 737 CE.
Like many other power-circles within the imperial court, the Wus were border aristocracy and related by blood to the imperial family. The surname Wu (Mou: 武) means martial, military, warlike - characteristically a surname chosen by Sinified barbarians in the North. ]
As the emperor became ever more besotted by his lady, he acceded to her requests to bestow favours upon her relatives, making her cousin Yang Kuo-Chong (Yeung Kok-Chung: 楊國忠) prime minister, and several of her other kinsmen high officials. Over the years while the power of the Yang family grew affairs of state were neglected and the treasury despoiled, leading to rebellion in the provinces.
In 755 CE, An LuShan (On LokSan: 安禄山), a feudal lord of mixed Sogdian and Central-Asian Turkish ancestry from the North-Eastern border of the empire, raised the standard of revolt and marched on the capitol Chang-An (Cheung-On: 長安 - modern day Hsi-An/Sei-On: 西安).
The imperial court fled south towards Shu (Suk: 蜀 - modern day Szechuan), and at Ma Wei Station (Ma-NGai Yik: 馬嵬驛) in Shaansi (Simsai: 陝西) the military escort decided to exact revenge for the destruction that the emperor's concubine and her rapacious relatives had wrought.
The emperor's tearful objections were stilled when he was reminded that ONE death might not be enough - killing ineffective rulers also had historic precedents.
SO FAR, SO GOOD .......
After slaughtering several court officials and members of the Yang family, troops and officers remonstrated with the emperor.
Thereupon Yang Kweifei was taken to a nearby Buddhist temple and strangled, following which she was unceremoniously buried at Ma Wei slope (馬嵬坡).
In 757 CE, when the now retired emperor Hsuan-Tsung returned to Chang-An, he wished to retrieve her body for a proper entombment, but was dissuaded by his officials, who feared tumult if the military should hear of it.
Historians are of two minds about the reputation of Lady Yang – was she the root of trouble, or merely a symptom? And who deserves more blame – the emperor for his weakness, Lady Yang for her manipulation on behalf of her kinsmen, or her relatives for being so unworthy of benefice?
Was she a vixen, or merely a victim of her time and place?
[I need not even mention that she was also rumoured to have had an affair with An Lu-Shan. Who was, notabene, an honorary 'adopted' son of the emperor!]
Whatever her true role in the convoluted court politics of Tang may have been, Yang Kweifei is mainly remembered as one of the greatest temptresses of all time, charming enough to alter the course of history - pleasingly plump and full figured, pale, with a lively and intelligent face.
A classic Chinese beauty. And thus a dangerous woman.
TONG YAN KAI
To the Cantonese, the distant Northern Border might as well be on the far side of the moon. Nothing in their environment prepares them for the extreme cold, the dryness, the aridity. The idea of being sent to man an outpost in the sands of Turkestan is enough to make them blanch.
Yes, the Cantonese are proud of China's achievements, and of the extension of empire along the Silk-Road - but everything North of the great river is a foreign world, and arguably not even Chinese. Certainly not proper Chinese.
They talk funny, eat weird crap, and smell funky, up there in the North.
Why, they're probably even half Turks!
NOTE: The two types of pronunciation given for Chinese characters above reflect Mandarin, which is the official language, and Cantonese, which is spoken here in San Francisco. In addition to being the Chinese language with which I am most familiar, Cantonese is also much more appropriate in the context of this post: It is the Chinese language whose pronunciation is closest to the koine of the Tang period.
As many Cantonese proudly assert, and educated Northerners grudgingly acknowledge.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
The words 唐人街 ('Tong-Yan Kai') literally mean Tang Person Street - that being the name for the Chinese district in San Francisco, as well as most Chinatowns elsewhere. It is strictly a Cantonese term; the Cantonese refer to themselves as men of Tang, after China's arguably most splendid era.
In the Western World, the Tang dynasty is known mainly for San-Tsai pottery and horse paintings, whereas to the Chinese that period is famous primarily for poetry, fat beauties, and Turks.
The Cantonese, like all Chinese, take great pride in the poetry.
Not so much the fat beauties or the Turks.
Here in San Francisco we have Chinese people, and also enough plump hell-cats to make an emperor drool. Quite likely we have Turks as well.
[Honestly, what is it with modern San Francisco girls? Why do so many of them pack more poundage than I do? Why is there such a surfeit of young ladies here, so much younger than yours truly yet so much heavier? I'm a mature man, Fercrapsakes!
I'm not supposed to look trimmer and spryer than you lot! Really!]
No other Chinese describe themselves as Tang, only the Cantonese. It is deliciously odd.
INCESTUOUS THREATS
The Tang Dynasty (Tong Chiew: 唐朝 - anno 618 CE to 907 CE) was one of the high-water marks of Chinese civilization, during which the empire reached its furthest expanse. Great advances in the arts and sciences were made, and due to the many splendid achievements, especially in literature, the Tang Dynasty truly counts as one of the golden ages of human history.
Yet there was always a haunting sense of fragility.
Several societies have traditionally been endangered by howling savages from the north - Rome had the Germanic tribes, Israel has the Lebanese, and we have the Canadians.
China for centuries has had the Turks.
More than the fashionably fat temptresses beloved by the grandees of the capital, the constant threat of invasion by barbarians from beyond the frontier shaped Tang society. Scholars and officials for generations either were posted north to fend off the fur-clad mob, or fled south to escape their depredations. The sight of men on horseback was a constant in metropoles north of the Yangtze, and returnees told harrowing tales of deprivation and endurance in the waste lands.
Ironically the Tang Dynasty itself was actually part Turkish, albeit long Sinicized and acclimatized. The ruling clan, and of much of the Northern aristocracy, had been on the frontier for generations, and represented a subculture that was more-or-less Chinese politically, but had overmuch in common with the tribes that beset the border.
The ancestors of many such clans had been heathen warlords co-opted by titles and power, and gradually brought into the civilized fold.
They were 'gentled' by their association with Chinese culture, but not entirely converted - during periods of instability, their opportunism and rapacious native tendencies would resurface.
The following poem adds to that irony - it references the killing of the emperor's concubine during a period of crypto-Turkic rebellion and bloodshed.
Now please note: the ruling family of Tang was named Li (Lei: 李), a surname that very often indicates a Barbaric origin (hence so many Turco-Chinese, Koreans, Vietnamese, and others of questionable antecedents thus appelled). The lady in this quatrain was surnamed Yang (Yeung: 楊), that being also the name of the crypto-Turkic clan that the Lis of Tang had superceded (and both she herself as well as her lord were in fact related by blood to the previous dynasty), yet Yang is a very Chinese name with absolutely no heathen hue.
Though people with these surnames are USUALLY fully Chinese, these particular Lis and Yangs were MOSTLY of 'foreign' origin.
This poem could NOT be more Chinese - yet the people in it were barely so.
If anything, they were Tang.
馬嵬坡 - MA WEI PO
玄宗回馬楊妃死， 雲雨難忘日月新。
終是聖明天子事， 景陽宮井又何人。
[詩者: 鄭畋]
MA NGAI PO ('Ma Wei Slope')
Yun-Tsong wui ma Yeung-Fei sei,
Wan-yiu naan-mong yat-yuet san;
Jung-si Sing-Ming tien-ji si,
Ging-Yeung Gung jeng yau ho-yan?
[Written by Zheng Tian (Jeng Tin 鄭畋) ]
Translation:
Hsuan-Tsung return horse Yang honoured consort dead,
Cloud-rain difficult forget day month new;
Finality indeed Sheng-Ming son-of-heaven business,
Ching-Yang Palace waterwell once-more who?
Paraphrasis:
When Hsuan-Tsung came back from his ride Lady Yang was already dead,
His love for her will be remembered for all eternity;
‘Recollect the affair of the Sing-Ming emperor............
And who (also) ended up in the well at the Ging-Yeung Palace?’
In short, while the emperor was off riding, his soldiers killed his concubine, whose family they hated.
CLARIFICATORY BACKGROUND
In the year 712 CE Li Longji (Lei LungKei: 李隆基 born 685 CE, died 762 CE) became the seventh emperor of the Tang Dynasty (styled Tang Hsuan-Tsung / Tong Yun-Tsong: 唐玄宗), reigning till 756 CE. After several years of quite able rule, he grew lax and careless, eventually bringing the empire to the edge of ruin. The name most associated with this latter period is Yang Kweifei - the imperial consort Yang.
Yang Yu-Hwan (Yeung Yiuk-Waan: 楊玉環 - born 719 CE, died 756 CE), the daughter of Yang Hsuan-Yan (Yeung Yun-Yim: 楊玄琰), was the wife of Hsuan-Tsung's son the Prince of Shou. After emperor Hsuan-Tsung noticed her, she divorced her husband, became a Buddhist nun for while to ensure plausible deniability, then rejoined the world (circa 737 or 738 CE) and became the emperor's concubine, receiving the title kweifei (gwaifei: 貴妃 honoured consort).
[The Prince of Shou (Sau Wong: 壽王): Li Mao (Lei Mo: 李瑁) born 715 CE died 775 CE. The eighteenth son of the emperor, whose mother was Consort Wu (Wu Wuifei / Mou Waifei 武惠妃), daughter of a clan that had nearly usurped the throne in a previous generation. Consort Wu never became empress due to the extreme wariness of court officials, who remembered what had happened. She never the less had great status and influence in the palace, and was deferred to as the highest lady in the land. She died in 737 CE.
Like many other power-circles within the imperial court, the Wus were border aristocracy and related by blood to the imperial family. The surname Wu (Mou: 武) means martial, military, warlike - characteristically a surname chosen by Sinified barbarians in the North. ]
As the emperor became ever more besotted by his lady, he acceded to her requests to bestow favours upon her relatives, making her cousin Yang Kuo-Chong (Yeung Kok-Chung: 楊國忠) prime minister, and several of her other kinsmen high officials. Over the years while the power of the Yang family grew affairs of state were neglected and the treasury despoiled, leading to rebellion in the provinces.
In 755 CE, An LuShan (On LokSan: 安禄山), a feudal lord of mixed Sogdian and Central-Asian Turkish ancestry from the North-Eastern border of the empire, raised the standard of revolt and marched on the capitol Chang-An (Cheung-On: 長安 - modern day Hsi-An/Sei-On: 西安).
The imperial court fled south towards Shu (Suk: 蜀 - modern day Szechuan), and at Ma Wei Station (Ma-NGai Yik: 馬嵬驛) in Shaansi (Simsai: 陝西) the military escort decided to exact revenge for the destruction that the emperor's concubine and her rapacious relatives had wrought.
The emperor's tearful objections were stilled when he was reminded that ONE death might not be enough - killing ineffective rulers also had historic precedents.
SO FAR, SO GOOD .......
After slaughtering several court officials and members of the Yang family, troops and officers remonstrated with the emperor.
Thereupon Yang Kweifei was taken to a nearby Buddhist temple and strangled, following which she was unceremoniously buried at Ma Wei slope (馬嵬坡).
In 757 CE, when the now retired emperor Hsuan-Tsung returned to Chang-An, he wished to retrieve her body for a proper entombment, but was dissuaded by his officials, who feared tumult if the military should hear of it.
Historians are of two minds about the reputation of Lady Yang – was she the root of trouble, or merely a symptom? And who deserves more blame – the emperor for his weakness, Lady Yang for her manipulation on behalf of her kinsmen, or her relatives for being so unworthy of benefice?
Was she a vixen, or merely a victim of her time and place?
[I need not even mention that she was also rumoured to have had an affair with An Lu-Shan. Who was, notabene, an honorary 'adopted' son of the emperor!]
Whatever her true role in the convoluted court politics of Tang may have been, Yang Kweifei is mainly remembered as one of the greatest temptresses of all time, charming enough to alter the course of history - pleasingly plump and full figured, pale, with a lively and intelligent face.
A classic Chinese beauty. And thus a dangerous woman.
TONG YAN KAI
To the Cantonese, the distant Northern Border might as well be on the far side of the moon. Nothing in their environment prepares them for the extreme cold, the dryness, the aridity. The idea of being sent to man an outpost in the sands of Turkestan is enough to make them blanch.
Yes, the Cantonese are proud of China's achievements, and of the extension of empire along the Silk-Road - but everything North of the great river is a foreign world, and arguably not even Chinese. Certainly not proper Chinese.
They talk funny, eat weird crap, and smell funky, up there in the North.
Why, they're probably even half Turks!
NOTE: The two types of pronunciation given for Chinese characters above reflect Mandarin, which is the official language, and Cantonese, which is spoken here in San Francisco. In addition to being the Chinese language with which I am most familiar, Cantonese is also much more appropriate in the context of this post: It is the Chinese language whose pronunciation is closest to the koine of the Tang period.
As many Cantonese proudly assert, and educated Northerners grudgingly acknowledge.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
SHI - CHINESE VERSE WITH LINES OF FIVE OR SEVEN SYLLABLE LENGTH [AND IF THAT ISN'T THE MOST EXCITING TITLE FOR A POST, I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS!]
This is a response to a query underneath a recent posting.
[Here: http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/11/three-tang-poems.html]
Steg (dos iz nit der šteg) asks: "Is Chinese poetry frequently defined by an even number of zi in each line?"
Hello Steg,
The short answer is yes it is.
詩
Generally speaking, Chinese poetry is divided into two categories.
Shi: 詩 - verse, often specifically verse of matched lines either in four or eight line sets, and Tsu: 辭 - lyric, usually in a set pattern of lines of different lengths, often based on songs. The first term however also applies to the material in the Book of Songs (詩 經 - Shi Ching), not all of which has matched lines.
The Shi Ching has some of the oldest verse in the Chinese language, and allegedly speaks of high moral values - although the lubricious boasting of a gallant that he has made love to three (!) damsels in one of the poems is almost impossible to read without twinkling eyes, and the wooing of another maiden, which cunningly uses bird-motifs to suggest the unsuggestable ("kwan kwan go the ospreys, kwan kwan"), is anything but puritan in tone.
From the Chou dynasty (周 朝 - Ch'ou chiu, 1122 bce to 256 bce) onward the definition of verse became more and more rigid - eventually verse with even numbers of lines and matching syllable count was considered shi, all else was by default tsu. Tsu could be sung, and often was. Shi could be chanted, but sounds a little ridiculous if sung.
[This is a value judgment! I think it sounds ridiculous if sung - others, who are wrong, disagree.]
唐 詩
The T'ang dynasty (唐 朝 - T'ang chiu, 618 ce to 906 ce) saw the greatest development of matched verse, in which there are the same number of zi per line, with either five or seven syllable lines throughout. There is usually a symmetry of sentence form, tonal contrast (level tones versus oblique) alternating within each line and contrasting in the next, a match or contrast of theme-words, and a progression of images and ideas that make the reader continue the thought or emotion beyond the end of the poem.
Because of the set patterns they are the easiest poems to memorize, and often the hardest to translate well (due to the terse nature of the Chinese language).
In many T'ang examples the poets, while expert at structure, play somewhat fast and loose with the constraints of the form for greater effect. Their poems (古 詩 - "ancient verse") have the correct line lengths, and full rhyme every second line. But their expressiveness lies in the almost perversely casual approach to the conventions of the form. There is seldom perfect parallelism, tone balance is frequently implied rather than perfected, pattern matching is nearly non-existent.
律 詩 , 絕 句
The ideal form is the full eight lines with parallelism and symmetry, which is known as regulated verse: 律 詩 (Lu Shi). The poets Li Po and Tu Fu are, famously, often anarchically heretical in their approach to this form, and often produce clever quatrains instead: 絕 句 (Jue Ju) or broken sentences.
新 詩
Since the revolution that overthrew the Manchu Dynasty (清 朝 - Ching chiu, 1644 - 1911, also called 大清 - Taai Ching, "great clarity"), poetic conventions have been relaxed. One hesitates to call much modern verse by the term 'poetry', though clearly it still is 'literature'. The term 'new poem' (新 詩) is frequently used; even the bohemians of the past would vociferously complain that 'this does not compute'.
楚 辭
Final note: While the Shi Ching represents what the Confucian school considered proper poetry that would serve to instruct the ruler in the emotional needs of his people, the Songs of Chu (楚 辭 Chu Tsu) are of nearly equal age, and present an entirely different background and set of reference points.
[Chu was a large kingdom that at the beginning of the Chinese era was far beyond the borders of civilization (occupying a broad geographic zone overlapping modern central-southern China), but which by the early classic period (about two and a half millennia ago) was entirely Sinicised - like Chou, their barbarian edges had worn off, and elements of their culture and thought-realm had expanded the Chinese horizon.]
This collection of chants, allegedly written by a righteous Confucian, reflects a belief-system quite different from the proper Chinese heartland - a world in which the unstilled spirits of the deceased are by ritual and offering conjured back by their emotional kin to their proper place , where they find security, and can influence the lives of their descendants. How odd! To a proper Confucian of the time, ancestral spirits did NOT roam about at all, but occasionally manifested themselves decorously within the sanctuary of the family temple.
楚
The Songs of Chu represents a more unbridled concept of the world, and contains much that is either totemic or shamanistic. Chu, though sinicised, was still a marshy southern borderland, with different manners and mores. Not quite 'us', don’t you know.
The modern native of Chu would, of course, disagree with the opinion above. After all, what could possibly be MORE civilized than Suchou, Shanghai, Hangchou....... It is davka those northerners who should worry about their lack of civilization, not the south.
The Cantonese, further south than any of the others, wholeheartedly agree. The ultimate South (粤 Yueh - boundarial zone, 嶺 南 Ling Nan - South of the Passes; both are ancient terms for Kwantung), has ALWAYS been the heart of Chinese civilization, and all of those northern people (including Chu) are just goofy. Punkt.
ADDENDUM: SEPARATION AS A THEME IN CHINESE QUATRAINS
Often verses were composed by literati at parting, when one of them would be sent out to a distant posting and his friends would see him off. They would not meet again for years, decades even, and it was unlikely that all of them would ever be together in the same place again. So on the morning of the departure, all would ride for a while together, and have wine at a landmark or bosky wine-shop before saying farewell.
Li Po (李白) says goodbye to Meng Hao-Ran (孟浩然) at the Yellow Crane Tower in this verse: 送孟浩然之廣陵 (Song Meng Hao-Ran zhi Guang Ling - seeing off Meng Hao-Ran to Guang Ling)
故人西辭黃鶴樓，
煙花三月下揚州。
孤帆遠影碧空盡，
惟見長江天際流。
Transcription:
Gu-ren xi ci Huang He Lou,
Yin hua san yueh xia Yang Zhou;
Gu fan yuan ying bi kong jin,
Wei jian Zhang Jiang tian ji liu.
Translation (paraphrasis):
My old friend heads west at the Yellow Crane Tower,
Amid the early spring smoke-drifts below Yang Chou;
A solitary sail, a distant image, swallowed by the blue expanse,
Finally, I can only see the great river flowing to the horizon.
Note the suggestion of tears in the last line - the conceit is that he waited till the sail disappeared from sight, it is more likely that his eyes were too wet to see clearly long before then.
Wang Wei (王維) describes a similar occasion in Wei Cheng Chu (渭城曲 - Wei City lyric):
渭城朝雨浥輕塵，
客舍青青柳色新。
勸君更盡一杯酒，
西出陽關無故人。
Transcription:
Wei-Cheng zhao-yu yi qing chen,
Ke she qing qing liu se xin;
Quan jun geng jin yi bei jiu,
Xi chu Yang Guan wu gu-ren.
Translation (paraphrasis):
Wei city, morning rain settles the dancing dust,
At a rustic inn all is green, the willows newly tipped;
I urge you to drain one more cup of wine,
West of Yang Guan there will be no old friends.
Almost anytime the term guan (關 - barrier gate, pass) is used, exile outside of civilization is meant. The barrier gates were the exits into the wilds beyond China, the Tatar lands, the Jurchen forests, the wild and thoroughly repulsive frontier zone. The contrast of guan with gu-ren (故 人 - familiar person, intimate friend) could not be more striking - 'west of the gate into the waste-land there will be none with whom you will have anything at all in common, so please, prolong this moment with just one more glass, and remember us and Wei city as it is now, in springtime'.
Travel is a constant theme in literati writings - as the official class of the empire, they were often on the road to and from postings, or on official business.
Here's Zhang Hu (張祜) being grouchy over having missed the last ferry across the river in Ti Jin Ling Du (題金陵渡 - 'On the theme of waiting for the ferry to Jin Ling').
金陵津渡小山樓，
一宿行人自可愁。
潮落夜江斜月裡，
兩三星火是瓜州。
Transcription:
Jin Ling jin du xiao shan lou,
Yi xiu xing ren zi ke chou;
Chao luo yeh jiang xie yueh li,
Liang san xing huo shi Gua zhou.
Translation (paraphrasis):
Waiting for the ferry at Jin Ling ford in a rustic shelter,
A lonesome traveler manages to make himself thoroughly miserable;
Sopping wet at the river, barely any moon light,
And yet I can see the flickering lights of Gua Chow across the water!
Du Mu (杜牧), similarly stuck on the wrong side of the river, gets testy over backwaters and local apathy, in Po Jin Huai (泊秦淮 - moored at the confluence of the Jin and Huai rivers). Or maybe he's lamenting what has passed.
煙籠寒水月籠沙，
夜泊秦淮近酒家。
商女不知亡國恨，
隔江猶唱後庭花。
Transcription:
Yin lung han sui yueh lung sa,
Yeh po Jin Huai jin jiu-jia;
Shang nu bu zhi wang guo hen,
Ge jiang you chang hou ting hua.
Translation (paraphrasis):
Mist enfolds cold water, moonlight delimits sand,
Moored at night in Jin Huai near a wine shop;
The trollop does not know the despair of a destroyed nation,
Across the river she still sings 'The Back Court Blossom'.
Shang-nu (商 女) refers to wine-shop girls, whose cheerful company would spur the clientele to drink more and prolong the moment (sometimes into the wee hours, sometimes into upstairs chambers). In the past, Du Mu probably enjoyed their presence, yet here he is clearly disgusted with the superficiality of it all - don't they know what happened? How can they still sing gay songs of the capitol, now that the Tatars have sacked it and the nation is undone!
Returning in dreams to familiar places also crops up as a theme in the writings of scholars.
Zhang Bi (張泌) revisits the mansion of the Xie family in Ji-ren (寄人 - traveler)
別夢依依到謝家，
小廊回合曲闌斜。
多情只有春庭月，
猶為離人照落花。
Transcription:
Bie meng yi yi dao Xie jia,
Xiao lang hui ta qu lan xie;
Duo qing zhi you chun ting yueh,
You wei li ren zhao luo hua.
Translation (paraphrasis):
In my dreams I still go to the Xie mansion,
Wandering along the lesser veranda with the curved railing;
Emotional, because of the spring moonlight in the courtyard,
Which, for this exile alone, is adrift in fallen flowers.
There was little chance that he would ever see the moon-silvered petal-drifts in the courtyard of the Xie mansion again. One can well understand the depth of his feeling on revisiting it in his dreams.
One scholar who did manage to return home after a life in distant postings was He Zhi-Zhang (賀知章), who says of his return to his home village in Hui Xiang Ou-Shu (回鄉偶書 - Return Home Incidental Scribble):
少小離家老大回，
鄉音無改鬢毛衰。
兒童相見不相識，
笑問客從何處來。
Transcription:
Shao-xiao li jia lao da hui,
Xiang yin wu gai bin mao shuai;
Er-tong xiang jian bu xiang shi,
Xiao wen 'ge cong he chu lai?'
Translation (paraphrasis):
Very young when I left home, I return as an old man,
My accent has not changed, though the hair on my temples has thinned;
The children and I look at each other, without any recognition,
Smiling, they ask "visitor, where do you come from?"
But at least he did return, and no doubt became a familiar face again in his village. This was for many an unrealizable dream. The fate of the literate is often eternal exile - if not dislocation, anomie.
Note: All poets cited above lived during the T'ang dynasty, when the Chinese Empire was at an all time high of both prosperity and territory. Chinese civilization had both a provincial aspect, frequently subcultural, and a metropolitan aspect, which for want of a better word can be described as 'supracultural'. The scholars who staffed the chancelleries and departments had their roots in their own local culture, but in their literacy and education exemplified the values of the supraculture. One can take the scholar out of Kansas, but one cannot cut Kansas out of the scholar.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
[Here: http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/11/three-tang-poems.html]
Steg (dos iz nit der šteg) asks: "Is Chinese poetry frequently defined by an even number of zi in each line?"
Hello Steg,
The short answer is yes it is.
詩
Generally speaking, Chinese poetry is divided into two categories.
Shi: 詩 - verse, often specifically verse of matched lines either in four or eight line sets, and Tsu: 辭 - lyric, usually in a set pattern of lines of different lengths, often based on songs. The first term however also applies to the material in the Book of Songs (詩 經 - Shi Ching), not all of which has matched lines.
The Shi Ching has some of the oldest verse in the Chinese language, and allegedly speaks of high moral values - although the lubricious boasting of a gallant that he has made love to three (!) damsels in one of the poems is almost impossible to read without twinkling eyes, and the wooing of another maiden, which cunningly uses bird-motifs to suggest the unsuggestable ("kwan kwan go the ospreys, kwan kwan"), is anything but puritan in tone.
From the Chou dynasty (周 朝 - Ch'ou chiu, 1122 bce to 256 bce) onward the definition of verse became more and more rigid - eventually verse with even numbers of lines and matching syllable count was considered shi, all else was by default tsu. Tsu could be sung, and often was. Shi could be chanted, but sounds a little ridiculous if sung.
[This is a value judgment! I think it sounds ridiculous if sung - others, who are wrong, disagree.]
唐 詩
The T'ang dynasty (唐 朝 - T'ang chiu, 618 ce to 906 ce) saw the greatest development of matched verse, in which there are the same number of zi per line, with either five or seven syllable lines throughout. There is usually a symmetry of sentence form, tonal contrast (level tones versus oblique) alternating within each line and contrasting in the next, a match or contrast of theme-words, and a progression of images and ideas that make the reader continue the thought or emotion beyond the end of the poem.
Because of the set patterns they are the easiest poems to memorize, and often the hardest to translate well (due to the terse nature of the Chinese language).
In many T'ang examples the poets, while expert at structure, play somewhat fast and loose with the constraints of the form for greater effect. Their poems (古 詩 - "ancient verse") have the correct line lengths, and full rhyme every second line. But their expressiveness lies in the almost perversely casual approach to the conventions of the form. There is seldom perfect parallelism, tone balance is frequently implied rather than perfected, pattern matching is nearly non-existent.
律 詩 , 絕 句
The ideal form is the full eight lines with parallelism and symmetry, which is known as regulated verse: 律 詩 (Lu Shi). The poets Li Po and Tu Fu are, famously, often anarchically heretical in their approach to this form, and often produce clever quatrains instead: 絕 句 (Jue Ju) or broken sentences.
新 詩
Since the revolution that overthrew the Manchu Dynasty (清 朝 - Ching chiu, 1644 - 1911, also called 大清 - Taai Ching, "great clarity"), poetic conventions have been relaxed. One hesitates to call much modern verse by the term 'poetry', though clearly it still is 'literature'. The term 'new poem' (新 詩) is frequently used; even the bohemians of the past would vociferously complain that 'this does not compute'.
楚 辭
Final note: While the Shi Ching represents what the Confucian school considered proper poetry that would serve to instruct the ruler in the emotional needs of his people, the Songs of Chu (楚 辭 Chu Tsu) are of nearly equal age, and present an entirely different background and set of reference points.
[Chu was a large kingdom that at the beginning of the Chinese era was far beyond the borders of civilization (occupying a broad geographic zone overlapping modern central-southern China), but which by the early classic period (about two and a half millennia ago) was entirely Sinicised - like Chou, their barbarian edges had worn off, and elements of their culture and thought-realm had expanded the Chinese horizon.]
This collection of chants, allegedly written by a righteous Confucian, reflects a belief-system quite different from the proper Chinese heartland - a world in which the unstilled spirits of the deceased are by ritual and offering conjured back by their emotional kin to their proper place , where they find security, and can influence the lives of their descendants. How odd! To a proper Confucian of the time, ancestral spirits did NOT roam about at all, but occasionally manifested themselves decorously within the sanctuary of the family temple.
楚
The Songs of Chu represents a more unbridled concept of the world, and contains much that is either totemic or shamanistic. Chu, though sinicised, was still a marshy southern borderland, with different manners and mores. Not quite 'us', don’t you know.
The modern native of Chu would, of course, disagree with the opinion above. After all, what could possibly be MORE civilized than Suchou, Shanghai, Hangchou....... It is davka those northerners who should worry about their lack of civilization, not the south.
The Cantonese, further south than any of the others, wholeheartedly agree. The ultimate South (粤 Yueh - boundarial zone, 嶺 南 Ling Nan - South of the Passes; both are ancient terms for Kwantung), has ALWAYS been the heart of Chinese civilization, and all of those northern people (including Chu) are just goofy. Punkt.
---------------------------------------------------
ADDENDUM: SEPARATION AS A THEME IN CHINESE QUATRAINS
Often verses were composed by literati at parting, when one of them would be sent out to a distant posting and his friends would see him off. They would not meet again for years, decades even, and it was unlikely that all of them would ever be together in the same place again. So on the morning of the departure, all would ride for a while together, and have wine at a landmark or bosky wine-shop before saying farewell.
Li Po (李白) says goodbye to Meng Hao-Ran (孟浩然) at the Yellow Crane Tower in this verse: 送孟浩然之廣陵 (Song Meng Hao-Ran zhi Guang Ling - seeing off Meng Hao-Ran to Guang Ling)
故人西辭黃鶴樓，
煙花三月下揚州。
孤帆遠影碧空盡，
惟見長江天際流。
Transcription:
Gu-ren xi ci Huang He Lou,
Yin hua san yueh xia Yang Zhou;
Gu fan yuan ying bi kong jin,
Wei jian Zhang Jiang tian ji liu.
Translation (paraphrasis):
My old friend heads west at the Yellow Crane Tower,
Amid the early spring smoke-drifts below Yang Chou;
A solitary sail, a distant image, swallowed by the blue expanse,
Finally, I can only see the great river flowing to the horizon.
Note the suggestion of tears in the last line - the conceit is that he waited till the sail disappeared from sight, it is more likely that his eyes were too wet to see clearly long before then.
Wang Wei (王維) describes a similar occasion in Wei Cheng Chu (渭城曲 - Wei City lyric):
渭城朝雨浥輕塵，
客舍青青柳色新。
勸君更盡一杯酒，
西出陽關無故人。
Transcription:
Wei-Cheng zhao-yu yi qing chen,
Ke she qing qing liu se xin;
Quan jun geng jin yi bei jiu,
Xi chu Yang Guan wu gu-ren.
Translation (paraphrasis):
Wei city, morning rain settles the dancing dust,
At a rustic inn all is green, the willows newly tipped;
I urge you to drain one more cup of wine,
West of Yang Guan there will be no old friends.
Almost anytime the term guan (關 - barrier gate, pass) is used, exile outside of civilization is meant. The barrier gates were the exits into the wilds beyond China, the Tatar lands, the Jurchen forests, the wild and thoroughly repulsive frontier zone. The contrast of guan with gu-ren (故 人 - familiar person, intimate friend) could not be more striking - 'west of the gate into the waste-land there will be none with whom you will have anything at all in common, so please, prolong this moment with just one more glass, and remember us and Wei city as it is now, in springtime'.
Travel is a constant theme in literati writings - as the official class of the empire, they were often on the road to and from postings, or on official business.
Here's Zhang Hu (張祜) being grouchy over having missed the last ferry across the river in Ti Jin Ling Du (題金陵渡 - 'On the theme of waiting for the ferry to Jin Ling').
金陵津渡小山樓，
一宿行人自可愁。
潮落夜江斜月裡，
兩三星火是瓜州。
Transcription:
Jin Ling jin du xiao shan lou,
Yi xiu xing ren zi ke chou;
Chao luo yeh jiang xie yueh li,
Liang san xing huo shi Gua zhou.
Translation (paraphrasis):
Waiting for the ferry at Jin Ling ford in a rustic shelter,
A lonesome traveler manages to make himself thoroughly miserable;
Sopping wet at the river, barely any moon light,
And yet I can see the flickering lights of Gua Chow across the water!
Du Mu (杜牧), similarly stuck on the wrong side of the river, gets testy over backwaters and local apathy, in Po Jin Huai (泊秦淮 - moored at the confluence of the Jin and Huai rivers). Or maybe he's lamenting what has passed.
煙籠寒水月籠沙，
夜泊秦淮近酒家。
商女不知亡國恨，
隔江猶唱後庭花。
Transcription:
Yin lung han sui yueh lung sa,
Yeh po Jin Huai jin jiu-jia;
Shang nu bu zhi wang guo hen,
Ge jiang you chang hou ting hua.
Translation (paraphrasis):
Mist enfolds cold water, moonlight delimits sand,
Moored at night in Jin Huai near a wine shop;
The trollop does not know the despair of a destroyed nation,
Across the river she still sings 'The Back Court Blossom'.
Shang-nu (商 女) refers to wine-shop girls, whose cheerful company would spur the clientele to drink more and prolong the moment (sometimes into the wee hours, sometimes into upstairs chambers). In the past, Du Mu probably enjoyed their presence, yet here he is clearly disgusted with the superficiality of it all - don't they know what happened? How can they still sing gay songs of the capitol, now that the Tatars have sacked it and the nation is undone!
Returning in dreams to familiar places also crops up as a theme in the writings of scholars.
Zhang Bi (張泌) revisits the mansion of the Xie family in Ji-ren (寄人 - traveler)
別夢依依到謝家，
小廊回合曲闌斜。
多情只有春庭月，
猶為離人照落花。
Transcription:
Bie meng yi yi dao Xie jia,
Xiao lang hui ta qu lan xie;
Duo qing zhi you chun ting yueh,
You wei li ren zhao luo hua.
Translation (paraphrasis):
In my dreams I still go to the Xie mansion,
Wandering along the lesser veranda with the curved railing;
Emotional, because of the spring moonlight in the courtyard,
Which, for this exile alone, is adrift in fallen flowers.
There was little chance that he would ever see the moon-silvered petal-drifts in the courtyard of the Xie mansion again. One can well understand the depth of his feeling on revisiting it in his dreams.
One scholar who did manage to return home after a life in distant postings was He Zhi-Zhang (賀知章), who says of his return to his home village in Hui Xiang Ou-Shu (回鄉偶書 - Return Home Incidental Scribble):
少小離家老大回，
鄉音無改鬢毛衰。
兒童相見不相識，
笑問客從何處來。
Transcription:
Shao-xiao li jia lao da hui,
Xiang yin wu gai bin mao shuai;
Er-tong xiang jian bu xiang shi,
Xiao wen 'ge cong he chu lai?'
Translation (paraphrasis):
Very young when I left home, I return as an old man,
My accent has not changed, though the hair on my temples has thinned;
The children and I look at each other, without any recognition,
Smiling, they ask "visitor, where do you come from?"
But at least he did return, and no doubt became a familiar face again in his village. This was for many an unrealizable dream. The fate of the literate is often eternal exile - if not dislocation, anomie.
Note: All poets cited above lived during the T'ang dynasty, when the Chinese Empire was at an all time high of both prosperity and territory. Chinese civilization had both a provincial aspect, frequently subcultural, and a metropolitan aspect, which for want of a better word can be described as 'supracultural'. The scholars who staffed the chancelleries and departments had their roots in their own local culture, but in their literacy and education exemplified the values of the supraculture. One can take the scholar out of Kansas, but one cannot cut Kansas out of the scholar.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, November 15, 2007
THREE T'ANG POEMS
My constant readers will no doubt forgive me if I briefly veer into one of my other modes.
楓橋夜泊
The first poem in Chinese I ever memorized was this one by Zhang Zhi (張繼): 楓橋夜泊
[Night Mooring at Maple Bridge]
月落烏啼霜满天
江楓漁火對愁眠
姑蘇城外寒山寺
夜半鐘聲到客船
Transcription:
Yue luo wu ti shuang man tian,
Jiang feng yu huo dui chou mian.
Gu Su cheng wai Han Shan Si,
Ye ban zhong sheng dao ke chuan.
Translation (paraphrasis):
"The moon lowers crows caw frost fills the sky,
Maple trees and fishermen's lights meet my melancholy gaze;
From beyond Han Shan (Cold Mountain) Temple outside the city of Gu Su (Su Chou),
I hear the sound of the midnight bell as it reaches this traveler's boat. "
I memorized it first, because it was the first one in the bilingual edition of the famous anthology. It is one that many Japanese of a certain age have also memorized, as well as people who have been to old-fashioned high schools. The man who wrote this was on his way back from failing the metropolitan exams. Little else is known about him.
巴山夜雨
One of the most evocative poems that I remember is probably Ba Shan Yeh Yu - Evening Rain on Ba Mountain (巴山夜雨) by Sun Shan Qi (孫善齊).
君問歸期未有期
巴山夜雨涨秋池
何當共剪西窗燭
卻話巴山夜雨時
Transcription:
Jun wen gui qi wei you qi,
Ba shan yeh yu zhang qiu chi;
He dang gong jian xi chuang zhu,
Que hua Ba Shan yeh yu shi.
Translation (paraphrasis):
"My lord asks me the date of my return yet there is no date,
On Ba mountain the rains fill the autumnal pools;
When again in each other's company shall we trim the wicks at the western window?
All I can say is that it will be when the rain on Ba mountain (again) fills the autumn pools. "
While this poem could be and probably is about the temporary separation of a couple, she perhaps on an extended visit to her relatives in a different province due to a family emergency, the choice of pronoun (Jun 君) speaks in modern Japanese usage AND in T'ang dynasty Chinese usage of male equals. One can therefore also imagine two literati, study partners, who spent much time swatting the classics together. A chavruso relationship, in other words.
Such a relationship was by no means unusual among people of the literate class, especially as maintaining literacy generation after generation was a shared effort by many people. Lifelong friendships were founded upon it.
And it also occured not infrequently among a man and wife - an illiterate woman could not effectively encourage and guide the growth into literacy of her children, nor impart the scholarly values.
山中問答
A particular favourite poem speaks of a scholar who has given up on the pursuit of success.
山中問答
[Sheilos u'teshuvos mittn grinne bergen]
by 李白
[Li Taai Baahk - Li Po]
問余何意棲碧山
笑而不答心自閑
桃花流水窅然去
別有天地非人間
Transcription:
Wen yu he yi qi bi shan,
Xiao er bu da xin zi xian;
Tao hua liu shui yao ran qu,
Bie you tian di fei ren jian.
Translation (paraphrasis):
"Ask me why I stay in the green mountains,
I smile but do not answer - my heart is at ease;
Peach blossoms and flowing water go towards the horizon,
There is another world beyond the human bustling.
The allusion is to the tale of Peach Blossom Spring (in short: a traveler discovers a hidden paradise by following a rivulet that comes out of a mountain wall. He discovers a wonderful place, where people seem youthful, happy, unconcerned. When he returns to his own village, no one believes him. And when he tries to find that place again, he cannot).
The sense is of a literatus who keeps deliberately separate from the world. Peace and tranquility achieved by deliberately ignoring the mundane hunt for official glory that characterized the environment of the Chinese literati. Avoiding the pollution of the bureaucratic life in times of corruption was also one of their strongest ideals.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
楓橋夜泊
The first poem in Chinese I ever memorized was this one by Zhang Zhi (張繼): 楓橋夜泊
[Night Mooring at Maple Bridge]
月落烏啼霜满天
江楓漁火對愁眠
姑蘇城外寒山寺
夜半鐘聲到客船
Transcription:
Yue luo wu ti shuang man tian,
Jiang feng yu huo dui chou mian.
Gu Su cheng wai Han Shan Si,
Ye ban zhong sheng dao ke chuan.
Translation (paraphrasis):
"The moon lowers crows caw frost fills the sky,
Maple trees and fishermen's lights meet my melancholy gaze;
From beyond Han Shan (Cold Mountain) Temple outside the city of Gu Su (Su Chou),
I hear the sound of the midnight bell as it reaches this traveler's boat. "
I memorized it first, because it was the first one in the bilingual edition of the famous anthology. It is one that many Japanese of a certain age have also memorized, as well as people who have been to old-fashioned high schools. The man who wrote this was on his way back from failing the metropolitan exams. Little else is known about him.
巴山夜雨
One of the most evocative poems that I remember is probably Ba Shan Yeh Yu - Evening Rain on Ba Mountain (巴山夜雨) by Sun Shan Qi (孫善齊).
君問歸期未有期
巴山夜雨涨秋池
何當共剪西窗燭
卻話巴山夜雨時
Transcription:
Jun wen gui qi wei you qi,
Ba shan yeh yu zhang qiu chi;
He dang gong jian xi chuang zhu,
Que hua Ba Shan yeh yu shi.
Translation (paraphrasis):
"My lord asks me the date of my return yet there is no date,
On Ba mountain the rains fill the autumnal pools;
When again in each other's company shall we trim the wicks at the western window?
All I can say is that it will be when the rain on Ba mountain (again) fills the autumn pools. "
While this poem could be and probably is about the temporary separation of a couple, she perhaps on an extended visit to her relatives in a different province due to a family emergency, the choice of pronoun (Jun 君) speaks in modern Japanese usage AND in T'ang dynasty Chinese usage of male equals. One can therefore also imagine two literati, study partners, who spent much time swatting the classics together. A chavruso relationship, in other words.
Such a relationship was by no means unusual among people of the literate class, especially as maintaining literacy generation after generation was a shared effort by many people. Lifelong friendships were founded upon it.
And it also occured not infrequently among a man and wife - an illiterate woman could not effectively encourage and guide the growth into literacy of her children, nor impart the scholarly values.
山中問答
A particular favourite poem speaks of a scholar who has given up on the pursuit of success.
山中問答
[Sheilos u'teshuvos mittn grinne bergen]
by 李白
[Li Taai Baahk - Li Po]
問余何意棲碧山
笑而不答心自閑
桃花流水窅然去
別有天地非人間
Transcription:
Wen yu he yi qi bi shan,
Xiao er bu da xin zi xian;
Tao hua liu shui yao ran qu,
Bie you tian di fei ren jian.
Translation (paraphrasis):
"Ask me why I stay in the green mountains,
I smile but do not answer - my heart is at ease;
Peach blossoms and flowing water go towards the horizon,
There is another world beyond the human bustling.
The allusion is to the tale of Peach Blossom Spring (in short: a traveler discovers a hidden paradise by following a rivulet that comes out of a mountain wall. He discovers a wonderful place, where people seem youthful, happy, unconcerned. When he returns to his own village, no one believes him. And when he tries to find that place again, he cannot).
The sense is of a literatus who keeps deliberately separate from the world. Peace and tranquility achieved by deliberately ignoring the mundane hunt for official glory that characterized the environment of the Chinese literati. Avoiding the pollution of the bureaucratic life in times of corruption was also one of their strongest ideals.
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