My bones stick out and my
strength
is gone
Through not getting enough to eat.
Through not getting enough to eat.
Waley - 170 Chinese Poems
" and Sung answered: "The
wind is born in the ground. It rises in the extremities of the green
p'ing-flower. It pours into the river-valleys and rages at the mouth of
the pass. It follows the rolling flanks of Mount T'ai and dances beneath
the pine-trees and cypresses. In gusty bouts it whirls. It rushes in
fiery anger. It rumbles low with a noise like thunder, tearing down
rocks and trees, smiting forests and grasses.
"But at last abating, it spreads abroad, seeks empty places and crosses
the threshold of rooms. And so growing gentler and clearer, it changes
and is dispersed and dies.
"It is this cool clear Man-Wind that, freeing itself, falls and rises
till it climbs the high walls of the Castle and enters the gardens of
the Inner Palace. It bends the flowers and leaves with its breath. It
wanders among the osmanthus and pepper-trees. It lingers over the
fretted face of the pond, to steal the soul of the hibiscus. It touches
the willow leaves and scatters the fragrant herbs. Then it pauses in the
courtyard and turning to the North goes up to the Jade Hall, shakes the
hanging curtains and lightly passes into the inner room.
"And so it becomes the Great King's wind.
"Now such a wind is fresh and sweet to breathe and its gentle murmuring
cures the diseases of men, blows away the stupor of wine, sharpens sight
and hearing and refreshes the body. This is what is called the Great
King's wind. "
The king said: "You have well described it. Now tell me of the common
people's wind. " Sung said: "The common people's wind rises from narrow
lanes and streets, carrying clouds of dust. Rushing to empty spaces it
attacks the gateway, scatters the dust-heap, sends the cinders flying,
pokes among foul and rotting things, till at last it enters the tiled
windows and reaches the rooms of the cottage. Now this wind is heavy and
turgid, oppressing man's heart. It brings fever to his body, ulcers to
his lips and dimness to his eyes. It shakes him with coughing; it kills
him before his time.
"Such is the Woman-wind of the common people. "
The following is a sample of Sung Yu's prose:
MASTER T? NG-T'U
By Sung Yu (third century B. C. )
One day when the Chamberlain, master T? ng-t'u, was in attendance at the
Palace he warned the King against Sung Yu, saying: "Yu is a man of
handsome features and calm bearing and his tongue is prompt with subtle
sentences. Moreover, his character is licentious. I would submit that
your Majesty is ill-advised in allowing him to follow you into the
Queen's apartments. " The King repeated T? ng-t'u's words to Sung Yu. Yu
replied: "My beauty of face and calmness of bearing were given me by
Heaven. Subtlety of speech I learnt from my teachers. As for my
character, I deny that it is licentious. " The King said: "Can you
substantiate your statement that you are not licentious? If you cannot,
you must leave the Court. " Sung Yu said: "Of all the women in the world,
the most beautiful are the women of the land of Ch'u. And in all the
land of Ch'u there are none like the women of my own village. And in my
village there are none that can be compared with the girl next door.
"The girl next door would be too tall if an inch were added to her
height, and too short if an inch were taken away. Another grain of
powder would make her too pale; another touch of rouge would make her
too red. Her eyebrows are like the plumage of the kingfisher, her flesh
is like snow. Her waist is like a roll of new silk, her teeth are like
little shells. A single one of her smiles would perturb the whole city
of Yang and derange the suburb of Hsia-ts'ai. [3] For three years this
lady has been climbing the garden wall and peeping at me, yet I have
never succumbed.
[3] Fashionable quarters in the capital of Ch'u state.
"How different is the behaviour of master T? ng-t'u! His wife has a wooly
head and misshapen ears; projecting teeth irregularly set; a crook in
her back and a halt in her gait. Moreover, she has running sores in
front and behind.
"Yet T? ng-t'u fell in love with her and caused her to bear him five
children.
"I would have your Majesty consider which of us is the debauchee. "
Sung Yu was not dismissed from court.
THE ORPHAN
Anon. (first century B. C. )
To be an orphan,
To be fated to be an orphan.
How bitter is this lot!
When my father and mother were alive
I used to ride in a carriage
With four fine horses.
But when they both died,
My brother and sister-in-law
Sent me out to be a merchant.
In the south I travelled to the "Nine Rivers"
And in the east as far as Ch'i and Lu.
At the end of the year when I came home
I dared not tell them what I had suffered--
Of the lice and vermin in my head,
Of the dust in my face and eyes.
My brother told me to get ready the dinner.
My sister-in-law told me to see after the horses.
I was always going up into the hall
And running down again to the parlour.
My tears fell like rain.
In the morning they sent me to draw water,
I didn't get back till night-fall.
My hands were all sore
And I had no shoes.
I walked the cold earth
Treading on thorns and brambles.
As I stopped to pull out the thorns,
How bitter my heart was!
My tears fell and fell
And I went on sobbing and sobbing.
In winter I have no great-coat;
Nor in summer, thin clothes.
It is no pleasure to be alive.
I had rather quickly leave the earth
And go beneath the Yellow Springs. [4]
The April winds blow
And the grass is growing green.
In the third month--silkworms and mulberries,
In the sixth month--the melon-harvest.
I went out with the melon-cart
And just as I was coming home
The melon-cart turned over.
The people who came to help me were few,
But the people who ate the melons were many,
All they left me was the stalks--
To take home as fast as I could.
My brother and sister-in-law were harsh,
They asked me all sorts of awful questions.
Why does everyone in the village hate me?
I want to write a letter and send it
To my mother and father under the earth,
And tell them I can't go on any longer
Living with my brother and sister-in-law.
[4] Hades.
THE SICK WIFE
She had been ill for years and years;
She sent for me to say something.
She couldn't say what she wanted
Because of the tears that kept coming of themselves.
"I have burdened you with orphan children,
With orphan children two or three.
Don't let our children go hungry or cold;
If they do wrong, don't slap or beat them.
When you take out the baby, rock it in your arms.
Don't forget to do that. "
Last she said,
"When I carried them in my arms they had no clothes
And now their jackets have no linings. " [_She dies. _
I shut the doors and barred the windows
And left the motherless children.
When I got to the market and met my friends, I wept.
I sat down and could not go with them.
I asked them to buy some cakes for my children.
In the presence of my friends I sobbed and cried.
I tried not to grieve, but sorrow would not cease.
I felt in my pocket and gave my friends some money.
When I got home I found my children
Calling to be taken into their mother's arms.
I walked up and down in the empty room
This way and that a long while.
Then I went away from it and said to myself
"I will forget and never speak of her again. "
COCK-CROW SONG
Anon. (first century B. C. )
In the eastern quarter dawn breaks, the stars flicker pale.
The morning cock at Ju-nan mounts the wall and crows.
The songs are over, the clock[5] run down, but still the feast
is set.
The moon grows dim and the stars are few; morning has come to
the world.
At a thousand gates and ten thousand doors the fish-shaped keys
turn;
Round the Palace and up by the Castle, the crows and magpies are
flying.
[5] A water-clock.
THE GOLDEN PALACE
Anon. (first century B. C. )
We go to the Golden Palace:
We set out the jade cups.
We summon the honoured guests
To enter at the Golden Gate.
They enter at the Golden Gate
And go to the Golden Hall.
In the Eastern Kitchen the meat is sliced and ready--
Roast beef and boiled pork and mutton.
The Master of the Feast hands round the wine.
The harp-players sound their clear chords.
The cups are pushed aside and we face each other at chess:
The rival pawns are marshalled rank against rank.
The fire glows and the smoke puffs and curls;
From the incense-burner rises a delicate fragrance.
The clear wine has made our cheeks red;
Round the table joy and peace prevail.
May those who shared in this day's delight
Through countless autumns enjoy like felicity.
"OLD POEM"
At fifteen I went with the army,
At fourscore I came home.
On the way I met a man from the village,
I asked him who there was at home.
"That over there is your house,
All covered over with trees and bushes. "
Rabbits had run in at the dog-hole,
Pheasants flew down from the beams of the roof.
In the courtyard was growing some wild grain;
And by the well, some wild mallows.
I'll boil the grain and make porridge,
I'll pluck the mallows and make soup.
Soup and porridge are both cooked,
But there is no one to eat them with.
I went out and looked towards the east,
While tears fell and wetted my clothes.
MEETING IN THE ROAD
In a narrow road where there was not room to pass
My carriage met the carriage of a young man.
And while his axle was touching my axle
In the narrow road I asked him where he lived.
"The place where I live is easy enough to find,
Easy to find and difficult to forget.
The gates of my house are built of yellow gold,
The hall of my house is paved with white jade,
On the hall table flagons of wine are set,
I have summoned to serve me dancers of Han-tan. [6]
In the midst of the courtyard grows a cassia-tree,--
And candles on its branches flaring away in the night. "
[6] Capital of the kingdom of Chao, where the people were famous for
their beauty.
FIGHTING SOUTH OF THE CASTLE
Anon. (_circa_ 124 B. C. )
They fought south of the Castle,
They died north of the wall.
They died in the moors and were not buried.
Their flesh was the food of crows.
"Tell the crows we are not afraid;
We have died in the moors and cannot be buried.
Crows, how can our bodies escape you? "
The waters flowed deep
And the rushes in the pool were dark.
The riders fought and were slain:
Their horses wander neighing.
By the bridge there was a house. [7]
Was it south, was it north?
The harvest was never gathered.
How can we give you your offerings?
You served your Prince faithfully,
Though all in vain.
I think of you, faithful soldiers;
Your service shall not be forgotten.
For in the morning you went out to battle
And at night you did not return.
[7] There is no trace of it left. This passage describes the havoc of
war. The harvest has not been gathered: therefore corn-offerings cannot
be made to the spirits of the dead.
THE EASTERN GATE
Anon. (first century B. C. ).
A poor man determines to go out into the world and make his fortune.
His wife tries to detain him.
I went out at the eastern gate:
I never thought to return.
But I came back to the gate with my heart full of sorrow.
* * * * *
There was not a peck of rice in the bin:
There was not a coat hanging on the pegs.
So I took my sword and went towards the gate.
My wife and child clutched at my coat and wept:
"Some people want to be rich and grand:
I only want to share my porridge with you.
Above, we have the blue waves of the sky:
Below, the yellow face of this little child. "
"Dear wife, I cannot stay.
Soon it will be too late.
When one is growing old
One cannot put things off. "
OLD AND NEW
Anon. (first century B. C. )
She went up the mountain to pluck wild herbs;
She came down the mountain and met her former husband.
She knelt down and asked her former husband
"What do you find your new wife like? "
"My new wife, although her talk is clever,
Cannot charm me as my old wife could.
In beauty of face there is not much to choose.
But in usefulness they are not at all alike.
My new wife comes in from the road to meet me;
My old wife always came down from her tower.
My new wife is clever at embroidering silk;
My old wife was good at plain sewing.
Of silk embroidery one can do an inch a day;
Of plain sewing, more than five feet.
Putting her silks by the side of your sewing,
I see that the new will not compare with the old. "
SOUTH OF THE GREAT SEA
My love is living
To the south of the Great Sea.
What shall I send to greet him?
Two pearls and a comb of tortoise-shell:
I'll send them to him packed in a box of jade.
They tell me he is not true:
They tell me he dashed my box to the ground,
Dashed it to the ground and burnt it
And scattered its ashes to the wind.
From this day to the ends of time
I must never think of him,
Never again think of him.
The cocks are crowing,
And the dogs are barking--
My brother and his wife will soon know. [8]
The autumn wind is blowing;
The morning wind is sighing.
In a moment the sun will rise in the east
And then _it_ too will know.
[8] _I. e. _, about her engagement being broken off.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE VALLEY
I am a prisoner in the hands of the enemy,
Enduring the shame of captivity.
My bones stick out and my strength is gone
Through not getting enough to eat.
My brother is a Mandarin
And his horses are fed on maize.
Why can't he spare a little money
To send and ransom me?
OATHS OF FRIENDSHIP
In the country of Yueh when a man made friends with another they set up
an altar of earth and sacrificed upon it a dog and a cock, reciting this
oath as they did so:
(1)
If you were riding in a coach
And I were wearing a "li,"[9]
And one day we met in the road,
You would get down and bow.
If you were carrying a "t? ng"[10]
And I were riding on a horse,
And one day we met in the road
I would get down for you.
[9] A peasant's coat made of straw.
[10] An umbrella under which a cheap-jack sells his wares.
(2)
Shang Ya!
I want to be your friend
For ever and ever without break or decay.
When the hills are all flat
And the rivers are all dry,
When it lightens and thunders in winter,
When it rains and snows in summer,
When Heaven and Earth mingle--
Not till then will I part from you.
BURIAL SONGS
(1)
"The dew on the garlic-leaf," sung at the burial of kings and
princes.
How swiftly it dries,
The dew on the garlic-leaf,
The dew that dries so fast
To-morrow will fall again.
But he whom we carry to the grave
Will never more return.
(2)
"The Graveyard," sung at the burial of common men.
What man's land is the graveyard?
It is the crowded home of ghosts,--
Wise and foolish shoulder to shoulder.
The King of the Dead claims them all;
Man's fate knows no tarrying.
SEVENTEEN OLD POEMS
The following seventeen poems are from a series known as the Nineteen
Pieces of Old Poetry. Some have been attributed to Mei Sh? ng (first
century B. C. ), and one to Fu I (first century A. D. ). They are manifestly
not all by the same hand nor of the same date. Internal evidence shows
that No. 3 at least was written after the date of Mei Sh? ng's death.
These poems had an enormous influence on all subsequent poetry, and many
of the habitual _cliches_ of Chinese verse are taken from them. I have
omitted two because of their marked inferiority.
(1)
On and on, always on and on
Away from you, parted by a life-parting. [11]
Going from one another ten thousand "li,"
Each in a different corner of the World.
The way between is difficult and long,
Face to face how shall we meet again?
The Tartar horse prefers the North wind,
The bird from Yueh nests on the Southern branch.
Since we parted the time is already long,
Daily my clothes hang looser round my waist.
Floating clouds obscure the white sun,
The wandering one has quite forgotten home.
Thinking of you has made me suddenly old,
The months and years swiftly draw to their close.
I'll put you out of my mind and forget for ever
And try with all my might to eat and thrive. [12]
[11] The opposite of a parting by death.
[12] The popular, but erroneous, interpretation of these two lines is:
"That I'm cast away and rejected I will not repine, But only hope with
all my heart you're well. "
(2)
Green, green,
The grass by the river-bank.
Thick, thick,
The willow trees in the garden.
Sad, sad,
The lady in the tower.
White, white,
Sitting at the casement window.
Fair, fair,
Her red-powdered face.
Small, small,
She puts out her pale hand.
Once she was a dancing-house girl.
Now she is a wandering man's wife.
The wandering man went, but did not return.
It is hard alone to keep an empty bed.
(3)
Green, green,
The cypress on the mound.
Firm, firm,
The boulder in the stream.
Man's life lived within this world,
Is like the sojourning of a hurried traveller.
A cup of wine together will make us glad,
And a little friendship is no little matter.
Yoking my chariot I urge my stubborn horses.
I wander about in the streets of Wan and Lo.
In Lo Town how fine everything is!
The "Caps and Belts"[13] go seeking each other out.
The great boulevards are intersected by lanes,
Wherein are the town-houses of Royal Dukes.
The two palaces stare at each other from afar,
The twin gates rise a hundred feet.
By prolonging the feast let us keep our hearts gay,
And leave no room for sadness to creep in.
[13] High officers.
(4)
Of this day's glorious feast and revel
The pleasure and delight are difficult to describe.
Plucking the lute they sent forth lingering sounds,
The new melodies in beauty reached the divine.
Skilful singers intoned the high words,
Those who knew the tune heard the trueness of their singing.
We sat there each with the same desire
And like thoughts by each unexpressed:
"Man in the world lodging for a single life-time
Passes suddenly like dust borne on the wind.
Then let us hurry out with high steps
And be the first to reach the highways and fords:
Rather than stay at home wretched and poor
For long years plunged in sordid grief. "
(5)
In the north-west there is a high house,
Its top level with the floating clouds.
Embroidered curtains thinly screen its windows,
Its storied tower is built on three steps.
From above there comes a noise of playing and singing,
The tune sounding, oh! how sad!
Who can it be, playing so sad a tune?
Surely it must be Ch'i Liang's[14] wife.
The tranquil "D" follows the wind's rising,
The middle lay lingers indecisive.
To each note, two or three sobs,
Her high will conquered by overwhelming grief.
She does not regret that she is left so sad,
But minds that so few can understand her song.
She wants to become those two wild geese
That with beating wings rise high aloft.
[14] Who had no father, no husband, and no children.
(6)
Crossing the river I pluck hibiscus-flowers:
In the orchid-swamps are many fragrant herbs.
I gather them, but who shall I send them to?
My love is living in lands far away.
I turn and look towards my own country:
The long road stretches on for ever.
The same heart, yet a different dwelling:
Always fretting, till we are grown old!
(7)
A bright moon illumines the night-prospect:
The house-cricket chirrups on the eastern wall.
The Handle of the Pole-star points to the Beginning of Winter.
The host of stars is scattered over the sky.
The white dew wets the moor-grasses,--
With sudden swiftness the times and seasons change.
The autumn cicada sings among the trees,
The swallows, alas, whither are they gone?
Once I had a same-house friend,
He took flight and rose high away.
He did not remember how once we went hand in hand,
But left me like footsteps behind one in the dust.
In the South is the Winnowing-fan and the Pole-star in the North,
And a Herd-boy[15] whose ox has never borne the yoke.
A friend who is not firm as a great rock
Is of no profit and idly bears the name.
[15] Name of a star. The Herd-boy, who is only figuratively speaking a
herd-boy, is like the friend who is no real friend.
(8)
In the courtyard there grows a strange tree,
Its green leaves ooze with a fragrant moisture.
Holding the branch I cut a flower from the tree,
Meaning to send it away to the person I love.
Its sweet smell fills my sleeves and lap.
The road is long, how shall I get it there?
Such a thing is not fine enough to send:
But it may remind him of the time that has past since he left. [16]
[16] _I. e. _ (supposing he went away in the autumn), remind him that
spring has come.
(9)
Far away twinkles the Herd-boy star;
Brightly shines the Lady of the Han River.
Slender, slender she plies her white fingers.
Click, click go the wheels of her spinning-loom.
At the end of the day she has not finished her task;
Her bitter tears fall like streaming rain.
The Han River runs shallow and clear;
Set between them, how short a space!
But the river water will not let them pass,
Gazing at each other but never able to speak.
(10)
Turning my chariot I yoke my horses and go.
On and on down the long roads
The autumn winds shake the hundred grasses.
On every side, how desolate and bare!
The things I meet are all new things,
Their strangeness hastens the coming of old age.
Prosperity and decay each have their season.
Success is bitter when it is slow in coming.
Man's life is not metal or stone,
He cannot far prolong the days of his fate.
Suddenly he follows in the way of things that change.
Fame is the only treasure that endures.
(11)
The Eastern Castle stands tall and high;
Far and wide stretch the towers that guard it.
The whirling wind uprises and shakes the earth;
The autumn grasses grow thick and green.
The four seasons alternate without pause,
The year's end hurries swiftly on.
The Bird of the Morning Wind is stricken with sorrow;
The frail cicada suffers and is hard pressed.
Free and clear, let us loosen the bonds of our hearts.
Why should we go on always restraining and binding?
In Yen and Chao are many fair ladies,
Beautiful people with faces like jade.
Their clothes are made all of silk gauze.
They stand at the door practising tranquil lays.
The echo of their singing, how sad it sounds!
By the pitch of the song one knows the stops have been tightened.
To ease their minds they arrange their shawls and belts;
Lowering their song, a little while they pause.
"I should like to be those two flying swallows
Who are carrying clay to nest in the eaves of your house. "
(12)
I drive my chariot up to the Eastern Gate;
From afar I see the graveyard north of the Wall.
The white aspens how they murmur, murmur;
Pines and cypresses flank the broad paths.
Beneath lie men who died long ago;
Black, black is the long night that holds them.
Deep down beneath the Yellow Springs,
Thousands of years they lie without waking.
In infinite succession light and darkness shift,
And years vanish like the morning dew.
Man's life is like a sojourning,
His longevity lacks the firmness of stone and metal.
For ever it has been that mourners in their turn were mourned,
Saint and Sage,--all alike are trapped.
Seeking by food to obtain Immortality
Many have been the dupe of strange drugs.
Better far to drink good wine
And clothe our bodies in robes of satin and silk.
(13) CONTINUATION OF (12)
The dead are gone and with them we cannot converse.
The living are here and ought to have our love.
Leaving the city-gate I look ahead
And see before me only mounds and tombs.
The old graves are ploughed up into fields,
The pines and cypresses are hewn for timber.
In the white aspens sad winds sing;
Their long murmuring kills my heart with grief.
I want to go home, to ride to my village gate.
I want to go back, but there's no road back.
(14)
The years of a lifetime do not reach a hundred.
Yet they contain a thousand years' sorrow.
When days are short and the dull nights long,
Why not take a lamp and wander forth?
If you want to be happy you must do it now,
There is no waiting till an after-time.
The fool who's loath to spend the wealth he's got
Becomes the laughing-stock of after ages.
It is true that Master Wang became immortal,
But how can _we_ hope to share his lot?
(15)
Cold, cold the year draws to its end,
The crickets and grasshoppers make a doleful chirping.
The chill wind increases its violence.
My wandering love has no coat to cover him.
He gave his embroidered furs to the Lady of Lo,
But from me his bedfellow he is quite estranged.
Sleeping alone in the depth of the long night
In a dream I thought I saw the light of his face.
My dear one thought of our old joys together,
He came in his chariot and gave me the front reins.
I wanted so to prolong our play and laughter,
To hold his hand and go back with him in his coach.
But, when he had come he would not stay long
Nor stop to go with me to the Inner Chamber.
Truly without the falcon's wings to carry me
How can I rival the flying wind's swiftness?
I go and lean at the gate and think of my grief,
My falling tears wet the double gates.
(16)
At the beginning of winter a cold spirit comes,
The North Wind blows--chill, chill.
My sorrows being many, I know the length of the nights,
Raising my head I look at the stars in their places.
On the fifteenth day the bright moon is full,
On the twentieth day the "toad and hare" wane. [17]
A stranger came to me from a distant land
And brought me a single scroll with writing on it;
At the top of the scroll was written "Do not forget,"
At the bottom was written "Goodbye for Ever. "
I put the letter away in the folds of my dress,
For three years the writing did not fade.
How with an undivided heart I loved you
I fear that you will never know or guess.
[17] The "toad and hare" correspond to our "man in the moon. " The waning
of the moon symbolizes the waning of the lover's affection.
(17)
The bright moon, oh, how white it shines,
Shines down on the gauze curtains of my bed.
Racked by sorrow I toss and cannot sleep.
Picking up my clothes, I wander up and down.
My absent love says that he is happy,
But I would rather he said he was coming back.
Out in the courtyard I stand hesitating, alone.
To whom can I tell the sad thoughts I think?
Staring before me I enter my room again;
Falling tears wet my mantle and robe.
THE AUTUMN WIND
By Wu-ti (157-87 B. C. ), sixth emperor of the Han dynasty. He came to the
throne when he was only sixteen. In this poem he regrets that he is
obliged to go on an official journey, leaving his mistress behind in the
capital. He is seated in his state barge surrounded by his ministers.
Autumn wind rises: white clouds fly.
Grass and trees wither: geese go south.
Orchids all in bloom: chrysanthemums smell sweet.
I think of my lovely lady: I never can forget.
Floating-pagoda boat crosses F? n River.
Across the mid-stream white waves rise
Flute and drum keep time to sound of the rowers' song;
Amidst revel and feasting, sad thoughts come;
Youth's years how few! Age how sure!
LI FU-J? N
The sound of her silk skirt has stopped.
On the marble pavement dust grows.
Her empty room is cold and still.
Fallen leaves are piled against the doors.
Longing for that lovely lady
How can I bring my aching heart to rest?
The above poem was written by Wu-ti when his mistress, Li Fu-j? n, died.
Unable to bear his grief, he sent for wizards from all parts of China,
hoping that they would be able to put him into communication with her
spirit.
wind is born in the ground. It rises in the extremities of the green
p'ing-flower. It pours into the river-valleys and rages at the mouth of
the pass. It follows the rolling flanks of Mount T'ai and dances beneath
the pine-trees and cypresses. In gusty bouts it whirls. It rushes in
fiery anger. It rumbles low with a noise like thunder, tearing down
rocks and trees, smiting forests and grasses.
"But at last abating, it spreads abroad, seeks empty places and crosses
the threshold of rooms. And so growing gentler and clearer, it changes
and is dispersed and dies.
"It is this cool clear Man-Wind that, freeing itself, falls and rises
till it climbs the high walls of the Castle and enters the gardens of
the Inner Palace. It bends the flowers and leaves with its breath. It
wanders among the osmanthus and pepper-trees. It lingers over the
fretted face of the pond, to steal the soul of the hibiscus. It touches
the willow leaves and scatters the fragrant herbs. Then it pauses in the
courtyard and turning to the North goes up to the Jade Hall, shakes the
hanging curtains and lightly passes into the inner room.
"And so it becomes the Great King's wind.
"Now such a wind is fresh and sweet to breathe and its gentle murmuring
cures the diseases of men, blows away the stupor of wine, sharpens sight
and hearing and refreshes the body. This is what is called the Great
King's wind. "
The king said: "You have well described it. Now tell me of the common
people's wind. " Sung said: "The common people's wind rises from narrow
lanes and streets, carrying clouds of dust. Rushing to empty spaces it
attacks the gateway, scatters the dust-heap, sends the cinders flying,
pokes among foul and rotting things, till at last it enters the tiled
windows and reaches the rooms of the cottage. Now this wind is heavy and
turgid, oppressing man's heart. It brings fever to his body, ulcers to
his lips and dimness to his eyes. It shakes him with coughing; it kills
him before his time.
"Such is the Woman-wind of the common people. "
The following is a sample of Sung Yu's prose:
MASTER T? NG-T'U
By Sung Yu (third century B. C. )
One day when the Chamberlain, master T? ng-t'u, was in attendance at the
Palace he warned the King against Sung Yu, saying: "Yu is a man of
handsome features and calm bearing and his tongue is prompt with subtle
sentences. Moreover, his character is licentious. I would submit that
your Majesty is ill-advised in allowing him to follow you into the
Queen's apartments. " The King repeated T? ng-t'u's words to Sung Yu. Yu
replied: "My beauty of face and calmness of bearing were given me by
Heaven. Subtlety of speech I learnt from my teachers. As for my
character, I deny that it is licentious. " The King said: "Can you
substantiate your statement that you are not licentious? If you cannot,
you must leave the Court. " Sung Yu said: "Of all the women in the world,
the most beautiful are the women of the land of Ch'u. And in all the
land of Ch'u there are none like the women of my own village. And in my
village there are none that can be compared with the girl next door.
"The girl next door would be too tall if an inch were added to her
height, and too short if an inch were taken away. Another grain of
powder would make her too pale; another touch of rouge would make her
too red. Her eyebrows are like the plumage of the kingfisher, her flesh
is like snow. Her waist is like a roll of new silk, her teeth are like
little shells. A single one of her smiles would perturb the whole city
of Yang and derange the suburb of Hsia-ts'ai. [3] For three years this
lady has been climbing the garden wall and peeping at me, yet I have
never succumbed.
[3] Fashionable quarters in the capital of Ch'u state.
"How different is the behaviour of master T? ng-t'u! His wife has a wooly
head and misshapen ears; projecting teeth irregularly set; a crook in
her back and a halt in her gait. Moreover, she has running sores in
front and behind.
"Yet T? ng-t'u fell in love with her and caused her to bear him five
children.
"I would have your Majesty consider which of us is the debauchee. "
Sung Yu was not dismissed from court.
THE ORPHAN
Anon. (first century B. C. )
To be an orphan,
To be fated to be an orphan.
How bitter is this lot!
When my father and mother were alive
I used to ride in a carriage
With four fine horses.
But when they both died,
My brother and sister-in-law
Sent me out to be a merchant.
In the south I travelled to the "Nine Rivers"
And in the east as far as Ch'i and Lu.
At the end of the year when I came home
I dared not tell them what I had suffered--
Of the lice and vermin in my head,
Of the dust in my face and eyes.
My brother told me to get ready the dinner.
My sister-in-law told me to see after the horses.
I was always going up into the hall
And running down again to the parlour.
My tears fell like rain.
In the morning they sent me to draw water,
I didn't get back till night-fall.
My hands were all sore
And I had no shoes.
I walked the cold earth
Treading on thorns and brambles.
As I stopped to pull out the thorns,
How bitter my heart was!
My tears fell and fell
And I went on sobbing and sobbing.
In winter I have no great-coat;
Nor in summer, thin clothes.
It is no pleasure to be alive.
I had rather quickly leave the earth
And go beneath the Yellow Springs. [4]
The April winds blow
And the grass is growing green.
In the third month--silkworms and mulberries,
In the sixth month--the melon-harvest.
I went out with the melon-cart
And just as I was coming home
The melon-cart turned over.
The people who came to help me were few,
But the people who ate the melons were many,
All they left me was the stalks--
To take home as fast as I could.
My brother and sister-in-law were harsh,
They asked me all sorts of awful questions.
Why does everyone in the village hate me?
I want to write a letter and send it
To my mother and father under the earth,
And tell them I can't go on any longer
Living with my brother and sister-in-law.
[4] Hades.
THE SICK WIFE
She had been ill for years and years;
She sent for me to say something.
She couldn't say what she wanted
Because of the tears that kept coming of themselves.
"I have burdened you with orphan children,
With orphan children two or three.
Don't let our children go hungry or cold;
If they do wrong, don't slap or beat them.
When you take out the baby, rock it in your arms.
Don't forget to do that. "
Last she said,
"When I carried them in my arms they had no clothes
And now their jackets have no linings. " [_She dies. _
I shut the doors and barred the windows
And left the motherless children.
When I got to the market and met my friends, I wept.
I sat down and could not go with them.
I asked them to buy some cakes for my children.
In the presence of my friends I sobbed and cried.
I tried not to grieve, but sorrow would not cease.
I felt in my pocket and gave my friends some money.
When I got home I found my children
Calling to be taken into their mother's arms.
I walked up and down in the empty room
This way and that a long while.
Then I went away from it and said to myself
"I will forget and never speak of her again. "
COCK-CROW SONG
Anon. (first century B. C. )
In the eastern quarter dawn breaks, the stars flicker pale.
The morning cock at Ju-nan mounts the wall and crows.
The songs are over, the clock[5] run down, but still the feast
is set.
The moon grows dim and the stars are few; morning has come to
the world.
At a thousand gates and ten thousand doors the fish-shaped keys
turn;
Round the Palace and up by the Castle, the crows and magpies are
flying.
[5] A water-clock.
THE GOLDEN PALACE
Anon. (first century B. C. )
We go to the Golden Palace:
We set out the jade cups.
We summon the honoured guests
To enter at the Golden Gate.
They enter at the Golden Gate
And go to the Golden Hall.
In the Eastern Kitchen the meat is sliced and ready--
Roast beef and boiled pork and mutton.
The Master of the Feast hands round the wine.
The harp-players sound their clear chords.
The cups are pushed aside and we face each other at chess:
The rival pawns are marshalled rank against rank.
The fire glows and the smoke puffs and curls;
From the incense-burner rises a delicate fragrance.
The clear wine has made our cheeks red;
Round the table joy and peace prevail.
May those who shared in this day's delight
Through countless autumns enjoy like felicity.
"OLD POEM"
At fifteen I went with the army,
At fourscore I came home.
On the way I met a man from the village,
I asked him who there was at home.
"That over there is your house,
All covered over with trees and bushes. "
Rabbits had run in at the dog-hole,
Pheasants flew down from the beams of the roof.
In the courtyard was growing some wild grain;
And by the well, some wild mallows.
I'll boil the grain and make porridge,
I'll pluck the mallows and make soup.
Soup and porridge are both cooked,
But there is no one to eat them with.
I went out and looked towards the east,
While tears fell and wetted my clothes.
MEETING IN THE ROAD
In a narrow road where there was not room to pass
My carriage met the carriage of a young man.
And while his axle was touching my axle
In the narrow road I asked him where he lived.
"The place where I live is easy enough to find,
Easy to find and difficult to forget.
The gates of my house are built of yellow gold,
The hall of my house is paved with white jade,
On the hall table flagons of wine are set,
I have summoned to serve me dancers of Han-tan. [6]
In the midst of the courtyard grows a cassia-tree,--
And candles on its branches flaring away in the night. "
[6] Capital of the kingdom of Chao, where the people were famous for
their beauty.
FIGHTING SOUTH OF THE CASTLE
Anon. (_circa_ 124 B. C. )
They fought south of the Castle,
They died north of the wall.
They died in the moors and were not buried.
Their flesh was the food of crows.
"Tell the crows we are not afraid;
We have died in the moors and cannot be buried.
Crows, how can our bodies escape you? "
The waters flowed deep
And the rushes in the pool were dark.
The riders fought and were slain:
Their horses wander neighing.
By the bridge there was a house. [7]
Was it south, was it north?
The harvest was never gathered.
How can we give you your offerings?
You served your Prince faithfully,
Though all in vain.
I think of you, faithful soldiers;
Your service shall not be forgotten.
For in the morning you went out to battle
And at night you did not return.
[7] There is no trace of it left. This passage describes the havoc of
war. The harvest has not been gathered: therefore corn-offerings cannot
be made to the spirits of the dead.
THE EASTERN GATE
Anon. (first century B. C. ).
A poor man determines to go out into the world and make his fortune.
His wife tries to detain him.
I went out at the eastern gate:
I never thought to return.
But I came back to the gate with my heart full of sorrow.
* * * * *
There was not a peck of rice in the bin:
There was not a coat hanging on the pegs.
So I took my sword and went towards the gate.
My wife and child clutched at my coat and wept:
"Some people want to be rich and grand:
I only want to share my porridge with you.
Above, we have the blue waves of the sky:
Below, the yellow face of this little child. "
"Dear wife, I cannot stay.
Soon it will be too late.
When one is growing old
One cannot put things off. "
OLD AND NEW
Anon. (first century B. C. )
She went up the mountain to pluck wild herbs;
She came down the mountain and met her former husband.
She knelt down and asked her former husband
"What do you find your new wife like? "
"My new wife, although her talk is clever,
Cannot charm me as my old wife could.
In beauty of face there is not much to choose.
But in usefulness they are not at all alike.
My new wife comes in from the road to meet me;
My old wife always came down from her tower.
My new wife is clever at embroidering silk;
My old wife was good at plain sewing.
Of silk embroidery one can do an inch a day;
Of plain sewing, more than five feet.
Putting her silks by the side of your sewing,
I see that the new will not compare with the old. "
SOUTH OF THE GREAT SEA
My love is living
To the south of the Great Sea.
What shall I send to greet him?
Two pearls and a comb of tortoise-shell:
I'll send them to him packed in a box of jade.
They tell me he is not true:
They tell me he dashed my box to the ground,
Dashed it to the ground and burnt it
And scattered its ashes to the wind.
From this day to the ends of time
I must never think of him,
Never again think of him.
The cocks are crowing,
And the dogs are barking--
My brother and his wife will soon know. [8]
The autumn wind is blowing;
The morning wind is sighing.
In a moment the sun will rise in the east
And then _it_ too will know.
[8] _I. e. _, about her engagement being broken off.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE VALLEY
I am a prisoner in the hands of the enemy,
Enduring the shame of captivity.
My bones stick out and my strength is gone
Through not getting enough to eat.
My brother is a Mandarin
And his horses are fed on maize.
Why can't he spare a little money
To send and ransom me?
OATHS OF FRIENDSHIP
In the country of Yueh when a man made friends with another they set up
an altar of earth and sacrificed upon it a dog and a cock, reciting this
oath as they did so:
(1)
If you were riding in a coach
And I were wearing a "li,"[9]
And one day we met in the road,
You would get down and bow.
If you were carrying a "t? ng"[10]
And I were riding on a horse,
And one day we met in the road
I would get down for you.
[9] A peasant's coat made of straw.
[10] An umbrella under which a cheap-jack sells his wares.
(2)
Shang Ya!
I want to be your friend
For ever and ever without break or decay.
When the hills are all flat
And the rivers are all dry,
When it lightens and thunders in winter,
When it rains and snows in summer,
When Heaven and Earth mingle--
Not till then will I part from you.
BURIAL SONGS
(1)
"The dew on the garlic-leaf," sung at the burial of kings and
princes.
How swiftly it dries,
The dew on the garlic-leaf,
The dew that dries so fast
To-morrow will fall again.
But he whom we carry to the grave
Will never more return.
(2)
"The Graveyard," sung at the burial of common men.
What man's land is the graveyard?
It is the crowded home of ghosts,--
Wise and foolish shoulder to shoulder.
The King of the Dead claims them all;
Man's fate knows no tarrying.
SEVENTEEN OLD POEMS
The following seventeen poems are from a series known as the Nineteen
Pieces of Old Poetry. Some have been attributed to Mei Sh? ng (first
century B. C. ), and one to Fu I (first century A. D. ). They are manifestly
not all by the same hand nor of the same date. Internal evidence shows
that No. 3 at least was written after the date of Mei Sh? ng's death.
These poems had an enormous influence on all subsequent poetry, and many
of the habitual _cliches_ of Chinese verse are taken from them. I have
omitted two because of their marked inferiority.
(1)
On and on, always on and on
Away from you, parted by a life-parting. [11]
Going from one another ten thousand "li,"
Each in a different corner of the World.
The way between is difficult and long,
Face to face how shall we meet again?
The Tartar horse prefers the North wind,
The bird from Yueh nests on the Southern branch.
Since we parted the time is already long,
Daily my clothes hang looser round my waist.
Floating clouds obscure the white sun,
The wandering one has quite forgotten home.
Thinking of you has made me suddenly old,
The months and years swiftly draw to their close.
I'll put you out of my mind and forget for ever
And try with all my might to eat and thrive. [12]
[11] The opposite of a parting by death.
[12] The popular, but erroneous, interpretation of these two lines is:
"That I'm cast away and rejected I will not repine, But only hope with
all my heart you're well. "
(2)
Green, green,
The grass by the river-bank.
Thick, thick,
The willow trees in the garden.
Sad, sad,
The lady in the tower.
White, white,
Sitting at the casement window.
Fair, fair,
Her red-powdered face.
Small, small,
She puts out her pale hand.
Once she was a dancing-house girl.
Now she is a wandering man's wife.
The wandering man went, but did not return.
It is hard alone to keep an empty bed.
(3)
Green, green,
The cypress on the mound.
Firm, firm,
The boulder in the stream.
Man's life lived within this world,
Is like the sojourning of a hurried traveller.
A cup of wine together will make us glad,
And a little friendship is no little matter.
Yoking my chariot I urge my stubborn horses.
I wander about in the streets of Wan and Lo.
In Lo Town how fine everything is!
The "Caps and Belts"[13] go seeking each other out.
The great boulevards are intersected by lanes,
Wherein are the town-houses of Royal Dukes.
The two palaces stare at each other from afar,
The twin gates rise a hundred feet.
By prolonging the feast let us keep our hearts gay,
And leave no room for sadness to creep in.
[13] High officers.
(4)
Of this day's glorious feast and revel
The pleasure and delight are difficult to describe.
Plucking the lute they sent forth lingering sounds,
The new melodies in beauty reached the divine.
Skilful singers intoned the high words,
Those who knew the tune heard the trueness of their singing.
We sat there each with the same desire
And like thoughts by each unexpressed:
"Man in the world lodging for a single life-time
Passes suddenly like dust borne on the wind.
Then let us hurry out with high steps
And be the first to reach the highways and fords:
Rather than stay at home wretched and poor
For long years plunged in sordid grief. "
(5)
In the north-west there is a high house,
Its top level with the floating clouds.
Embroidered curtains thinly screen its windows,
Its storied tower is built on three steps.
From above there comes a noise of playing and singing,
The tune sounding, oh! how sad!
Who can it be, playing so sad a tune?
Surely it must be Ch'i Liang's[14] wife.
The tranquil "D" follows the wind's rising,
The middle lay lingers indecisive.
To each note, two or three sobs,
Her high will conquered by overwhelming grief.
She does not regret that she is left so sad,
But minds that so few can understand her song.
She wants to become those two wild geese
That with beating wings rise high aloft.
[14] Who had no father, no husband, and no children.
(6)
Crossing the river I pluck hibiscus-flowers:
In the orchid-swamps are many fragrant herbs.
I gather them, but who shall I send them to?
My love is living in lands far away.
I turn and look towards my own country:
The long road stretches on for ever.
The same heart, yet a different dwelling:
Always fretting, till we are grown old!
(7)
A bright moon illumines the night-prospect:
The house-cricket chirrups on the eastern wall.
The Handle of the Pole-star points to the Beginning of Winter.
The host of stars is scattered over the sky.
The white dew wets the moor-grasses,--
With sudden swiftness the times and seasons change.
The autumn cicada sings among the trees,
The swallows, alas, whither are they gone?
Once I had a same-house friend,
He took flight and rose high away.
He did not remember how once we went hand in hand,
But left me like footsteps behind one in the dust.
In the South is the Winnowing-fan and the Pole-star in the North,
And a Herd-boy[15] whose ox has never borne the yoke.
A friend who is not firm as a great rock
Is of no profit and idly bears the name.
[15] Name of a star. The Herd-boy, who is only figuratively speaking a
herd-boy, is like the friend who is no real friend.
(8)
In the courtyard there grows a strange tree,
Its green leaves ooze with a fragrant moisture.
Holding the branch I cut a flower from the tree,
Meaning to send it away to the person I love.
Its sweet smell fills my sleeves and lap.
The road is long, how shall I get it there?
Such a thing is not fine enough to send:
But it may remind him of the time that has past since he left. [16]
[16] _I. e. _ (supposing he went away in the autumn), remind him that
spring has come.
(9)
Far away twinkles the Herd-boy star;
Brightly shines the Lady of the Han River.
Slender, slender she plies her white fingers.
Click, click go the wheels of her spinning-loom.
At the end of the day she has not finished her task;
Her bitter tears fall like streaming rain.
The Han River runs shallow and clear;
Set between them, how short a space!
But the river water will not let them pass,
Gazing at each other but never able to speak.
(10)
Turning my chariot I yoke my horses and go.
On and on down the long roads
The autumn winds shake the hundred grasses.
On every side, how desolate and bare!
The things I meet are all new things,
Their strangeness hastens the coming of old age.
Prosperity and decay each have their season.
Success is bitter when it is slow in coming.
Man's life is not metal or stone,
He cannot far prolong the days of his fate.
Suddenly he follows in the way of things that change.
Fame is the only treasure that endures.
(11)
The Eastern Castle stands tall and high;
Far and wide stretch the towers that guard it.
The whirling wind uprises and shakes the earth;
The autumn grasses grow thick and green.
The four seasons alternate without pause,
The year's end hurries swiftly on.
The Bird of the Morning Wind is stricken with sorrow;
The frail cicada suffers and is hard pressed.
Free and clear, let us loosen the bonds of our hearts.
Why should we go on always restraining and binding?
In Yen and Chao are many fair ladies,
Beautiful people with faces like jade.
Their clothes are made all of silk gauze.
They stand at the door practising tranquil lays.
The echo of their singing, how sad it sounds!
By the pitch of the song one knows the stops have been tightened.
To ease their minds they arrange their shawls and belts;
Lowering their song, a little while they pause.
"I should like to be those two flying swallows
Who are carrying clay to nest in the eaves of your house. "
(12)
I drive my chariot up to the Eastern Gate;
From afar I see the graveyard north of the Wall.
The white aspens how they murmur, murmur;
Pines and cypresses flank the broad paths.
Beneath lie men who died long ago;
Black, black is the long night that holds them.
Deep down beneath the Yellow Springs,
Thousands of years they lie without waking.
In infinite succession light and darkness shift,
And years vanish like the morning dew.
Man's life is like a sojourning,
His longevity lacks the firmness of stone and metal.
For ever it has been that mourners in their turn were mourned,
Saint and Sage,--all alike are trapped.
Seeking by food to obtain Immortality
Many have been the dupe of strange drugs.
Better far to drink good wine
And clothe our bodies in robes of satin and silk.
(13) CONTINUATION OF (12)
The dead are gone and with them we cannot converse.
The living are here and ought to have our love.
Leaving the city-gate I look ahead
And see before me only mounds and tombs.
The old graves are ploughed up into fields,
The pines and cypresses are hewn for timber.
In the white aspens sad winds sing;
Their long murmuring kills my heart with grief.
I want to go home, to ride to my village gate.
I want to go back, but there's no road back.
(14)
The years of a lifetime do not reach a hundred.
Yet they contain a thousand years' sorrow.
When days are short and the dull nights long,
Why not take a lamp and wander forth?
If you want to be happy you must do it now,
There is no waiting till an after-time.
The fool who's loath to spend the wealth he's got
Becomes the laughing-stock of after ages.
It is true that Master Wang became immortal,
But how can _we_ hope to share his lot?
(15)
Cold, cold the year draws to its end,
The crickets and grasshoppers make a doleful chirping.
The chill wind increases its violence.
My wandering love has no coat to cover him.
He gave his embroidered furs to the Lady of Lo,
But from me his bedfellow he is quite estranged.
Sleeping alone in the depth of the long night
In a dream I thought I saw the light of his face.
My dear one thought of our old joys together,
He came in his chariot and gave me the front reins.
I wanted so to prolong our play and laughter,
To hold his hand and go back with him in his coach.
But, when he had come he would not stay long
Nor stop to go with me to the Inner Chamber.
Truly without the falcon's wings to carry me
How can I rival the flying wind's swiftness?
I go and lean at the gate and think of my grief,
My falling tears wet the double gates.
(16)
At the beginning of winter a cold spirit comes,
The North Wind blows--chill, chill.
My sorrows being many, I know the length of the nights,
Raising my head I look at the stars in their places.
On the fifteenth day the bright moon is full,
On the twentieth day the "toad and hare" wane. [17]
A stranger came to me from a distant land
And brought me a single scroll with writing on it;
At the top of the scroll was written "Do not forget,"
At the bottom was written "Goodbye for Ever. "
I put the letter away in the folds of my dress,
For three years the writing did not fade.
How with an undivided heart I loved you
I fear that you will never know or guess.
[17] The "toad and hare" correspond to our "man in the moon. " The waning
of the moon symbolizes the waning of the lover's affection.
(17)
The bright moon, oh, how white it shines,
Shines down on the gauze curtains of my bed.
Racked by sorrow I toss and cannot sleep.
Picking up my clothes, I wander up and down.
My absent love says that he is happy,
But I would rather he said he was coming back.
Out in the courtyard I stand hesitating, alone.
To whom can I tell the sad thoughts I think?
Staring before me I enter my room again;
Falling tears wet my mantle and robe.
THE AUTUMN WIND
By Wu-ti (157-87 B. C. ), sixth emperor of the Han dynasty. He came to the
throne when he was only sixteen. In this poem he regrets that he is
obliged to go on an official journey, leaving his mistress behind in the
capital. He is seated in his state barge surrounded by his ministers.
Autumn wind rises: white clouds fly.
Grass and trees wither: geese go south.
Orchids all in bloom: chrysanthemums smell sweet.
I think of my lovely lady: I never can forget.
Floating-pagoda boat crosses F? n River.
Across the mid-stream white waves rise
Flute and drum keep time to sound of the rowers' song;
Amidst revel and feasting, sad thoughts come;
Youth's years how few! Age how sure!
LI FU-J? N
The sound of her silk skirt has stopped.
On the marble pavement dust grows.
Her empty room is cold and still.
Fallen leaves are piled against the doors.
Longing for that lovely lady
How can I bring my aching heart to rest?
The above poem was written by Wu-ti when his mistress, Li Fu-j? n, died.
Unable to bear his grief, he sent for wizards from all parts of China,
hoping that they would be able to put him into communication with her
spirit.
