《蝶恋花·谁道闲情抛弃久》五代·冯延巳 To the tune of Dié Liàn Huā by Feng Yansi [Five Dynasties]

Original Text

谁道闲情抛弃久?
每到春来,惆怅还依旧。
日日花前常病酒,不辞镜里朱颜瘦。
河畔青芜堤上柳。
为问新愁,何事年年有?
独立小桥风满袖,平林新月人归后。

Annotated

I have rendered this character-by-character annotation from personal knowledge. If you see any mistakes, please comment or contact.

Translation

Translation by James J. Y. Liu,
From The Art of Chinese Poetry

Who says that this idle feeling has long been left aside?
Whenever spring comes, my melancholy returns as before.
Every day, before the flowers, I'm ill with too much drinking, 
Yet dare I refuse to let my image in the mirror grow thin?

O you green grass by the river and willows on the dam, 
Pray tell me: why does new sorrow arise with each year?
Alone on a little bridge I stand, my sleeves filled with wind;
The new moon rises above the woods and everyone else is gone. 

《鸟鸣涧》唐·王维 Calling-Bird Brook by Wang Wei [Tang Dynasty]

Original Text

人闲桂花落,夜静春山空。
月出惊山鸟,时鸣春涧中。

Annotated

I have rendered this character-by-character annotation from personal knowledge. If you see any mistakes, please comment or contact.

Translation

Translation by Cai Zongqi,
from How to read Chinese poetry: a guided anthology


Man quiet: sweet osmanthus falls
Night tranquil: the spring mountain empties
The rising moon startles mountain birds
Which call awhile in the spring stream

Moon

A note on references: Listed below are all works the contributors referenced in the process of writing specific pieces, some for inspiration, others for confirmation of specific details. Works that are considered suitable for readers of this blog as extended reading are indicated in bold.

Ma Lin, Waiting for Guests by Lamplight, circa 1250

In Women and the Moon: Isolation, sorrow, and longing from the Palace to the Boudoir

Cai, Z. (2008). How to read chinese poetry : A guided anthology. New York: Columbia University Press.
Retrieved from http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?authtype=ip,sso&custid=s4392798&direct=true&scope=site&db=nlebk&AN=224624

Chang, K. S., Saussy, H., & Kwong, C. Y. (1999). Women writers of traditional china : An anthology of poetry and criticism. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press.

Lee, M. O. (1988). Per nubila lunam : The moon in virgil’s “aeneid”. Vergilius (1959-), 34, 9-14.
Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/41592346

Owen, S. (2019). Just a song : Chinese lyrics from the eleventh and early twelfth centuries. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Asia Center.

Ratto, K. (1971). The moon in literature. Elementary English, 48(8), 932-936.
Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/41387006

Read, S., & Gill, C. (2019). How women and the moon intertwine in literature.
Retrieved from https://theconversation.com/how-women-and-the-moon-intertwine-in-literature-120257

Seed, D. (2019). Moon on the mind: Two millennia of lunar literature.
Retrieved from https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-019-02090-w

Verlaine, P., & Shapiro, N. R. (1999). One hundred and one poems by paul verlaine : A bilingual edition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Retrieved from http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?authtype=ip,sso&custid=s4392798&direct=true&scope=site&db=nlebk&AN=333857

Yang, L., & An, D. (2005). Handbook of chinese mythology. Santa Barbara, Calif.: Abc-Clio.
Retrieved from http://www.loc.gov/catdir/toc/ecip0512/2005013851.html

《一剪梅·红藕香残玉簟秋》宋·李清照 To the tune of Yì Jiǎn Méi by Li Qingzhao [Song Dynasty]

Original Text

红藕香残玉簟秋,轻解罗裳,独上兰舟。
云中谁寄锦书来?雁字回时,月满西楼。
花自飘零水自流,一种相思,两处闲愁。
此情无计可消除,才下眉头,却上心头。

Annotated

I have rendered this character-by-character annotation from personal knowledge. If you see any mistakes, please comment or contact.

Translation

Translation by Eugene Eoyang, 
From Women writers of traditional China : an anthology of poetry and criticism

The scent of red lotus fades: the jade mat feels autumnal.
Gently loosening the silk gown,
I board the orchid boat alone.
Who's sending a gilded message in the clouds?
When the migrating geese bring word
The moon will be full in the Western chamber.
Flower petals drift down, the river flows.
One kind of longing
In two places: idle melancholy.
No way to dispel these feelings.
For just when they brim the eyes,
They go straight to the heart.

《怨歌行》汉·班婕妤 Song of Resentment by Ban Jieyu [Han Dynasty]

Original Text

新裂齐纨素,皎洁如霜雪。
裁作合欢扇,团团似明月。
出入君怀袖,动摇微风发。
常恐秋节至,凉飙夺炎热。
弃捐箧笥中,恩情中道绝。

Annotated

I have rendered this character-by-character annotation from personal knowledge. If you see any mistakes, please comment or contact.

Translation

Translation by David R. Knechtges,
From Women writers of traditional China : an anthology of poetry and criticism

Newly
 cut 
white 
silk 
from 
Qi,























Glistening 
and 
pure
 as 
frost 
and 
snow:























Fashioned
 into 
a
 fan 
of
 "conjoined
 bliss,"
















Round,
round
 as 
the
 bright
 moon.























It
 goes 
in 
and
 out 
of
 my 
lord's
 breast 
and
 sleeve;























Waved, 
it
 stirs
 a 
gentle 
breeze.























But 
I 
always 
fear
 autumn's
 coming,














When 
chilling 
winds 
dispel
 blazing 
heat.























Then 
it 
will 
be 
thrown 
into
 a
 box,























And
 his
 love
 will
 be 
cut 
off 
midcourse.

《玉阶怨》唐·李白 Lament of the Jade Stairs Li Bai [Tang Dynasty]

Original Text

玉阶生白露,夜久侵罗袜。
却下水晶帘,玲珑望秋月。

Annotated

This character-by-character annotation is adapted from Cai Zongqi’s “How to read Chinese poetry: a guided anthology”

Translation

Translation by David Hinton, 
from Classical Chinese Poetry: An Anthology


Night long on the jade staircase, white
dew appears, soaks through gauze stockings.
She lets down crystalline blinds, gazes out
through jewel lacework at the autumn moon.

《嫦娥》唐·李商隐 Cháng É by Li Shangyin [Tang Dynasty]

Original Text

云母屏风烛影深,长河渐落晓星沉。
嫦娥应悔偷灵药,碧海青天夜夜心。

Annotated

This character-by-character annotation is adapted from Cai Zongqi’s “How to read Chinese poetry: a guided anthology”

Translation

Translation by Cai Zongqi, 
from How to read Chinese poetry: a guided anthology


Behind the mica screen, candles cast deep shadows
The Great River slowly sinks, and dawn stars are drowned
Chang-e must regret stealing the elixir—
Over blue sea, in dark sky, thinking night after night

Living the Poetry — 《静夜思》

“Good literature is such that one may return to them again and again, and get something new out of them at each stage of life.”

I forgot where I first read this sentence, but it has manifested itself often in my experience with poetry. From time to time, I would stumble upon an eureka moment, in which an old, known line of poetry takes on a brand new layer of meaning. In such moments, the lines grant meanings to experiences, and experiences grant meanings to the lines.

One such moment was when I was reminded of the poem 《静夜思》<Thoughts on a Silent Night> two weeks ago, at the last full moon. As mentioned in my post ‘Frost on the Ground’, I was in bed ready to sleep when I saw moonlight shining through the curtain onto the ground.

As most other Chinese, I have learned the poem by heart even before school. Due to the extreme familiarity, this sequence of 20 characters for me felt closer to the Alphabet Song than a piece of literature. Much as I am deeply touched by many other poems on the theme of moon and nostalgia, the meaning of 《静夜思》 has laid dormant.

The awakening is the key. The moonlight on the night of April 7th awakened the poem from my memory. As I glanced at the ground, I thought: ‘Aha, Li Bai (the poet) is right! It indeed looks like frost!’ Following that, naturally, I thought of the lines:

“举头望明月,低头思故乡。”

My head lifts, as I gaze at the moon,
My head lowers, as I start missing home.

Then these lines awakened some nostalgia within me.

Essentially, the poem facilitated, as an intermediate agent, my experience of falling into nostalgia after seeing (unexpectedly) silvery moonlight on the ground. And that was exactly what Li Bai experienced. That is what the whole poem is about: the emotional journey of the ‘caught by surprise’, the wonder, the realization, then the un-asked-for yet unshakable nostalgia. For me, the poem 《静夜思》has awaken. Now, I not only know what it means, I know how it feels.

One may understand a poem by reading it, imagining and empathizing what the experience depicted is like, just as one does with most stories or films. Occasionally, however, we get the honour of living a poem, or of encountering a poem that we have lived through. That is when the extreme beauty of emotional resonance kicks in.

Remember that time your friend shared his/her feelings on something and you felt exactly the same? As humans, we love emotional resonances — we need them. However, from my experience, such resonances are rare, and we more often ‘meet’ them by chance than ‘find’ them by strive. As written in the Analects of Confucius:

“有朋自远方来,不亦乐乎。”

“As my friends arrive from afar, oh what fortune, what joy!"

The poems are the Friends from Afar. They are friends from a different space, a different time, yet who carry in their words what we feel and what we live.

Poetry is mutual. If we understand the poems, the poems understand us.

Poetry is personal. The poems speak of our most subtle and intimate feelings with just the right words.

Poetry is universal. When same words from a man centuries ago touch you and me, in our distinct ways, we both live the poetry.