Part 2
These few remarks on the use of the ping-tseh tones in the rhythm and rhyme of Chinese poetry must not be regarded by readers as an exhaustive summary of the system, which is much more intricate than it seems, owing to many qualifying rules and conditions as to its application in relation to the other factors required to form a correct poetical composition; they will, however, suffice to give a general conception of the part played by the ping and tseh tones in the technique of Chinese poetry, especially in modern poetical compositions. But although the ping-tseh tones are indispensable to the rhythm of the modern poem, there are, as I have remarked above, other factors required to form a perfect 'tsüeh', or 'Lüh', or 'pai-lüh', and most elaborate instructions as to the use of each character or line in relation to other characters and lines in the same stanza must be mastered before a poem can be constructed that would satisfy the eye and ear, and literary standard, of the modern Chinese critic of poetry. But it must not be forgotten that the scholarly Chinese poet is just as familiar as his Western _confrère_ with the metaphor, simile, allegory, epigram, climax, and all other figures of speech which are common in the prose and poetry of a literary people; and the skilful use of these in harmony with the rigid ping-tseh rules concerning rhythm and rhyme is a task of considerable difficulty for the conscientious poet. Fortunately the ancient poets did not adhere very rigidly to technique; and not a few modern poets have in many of their compositions imitated the ancient style. Besides the tsüeh and lüh there are many poetical compositions, such as the ko, hsing, yin, tz'e, k'üh, p'ien, yong, yao, t'an, ai, yuen, and pieh--many of them of very ancient origin, which are all put under the generic term 'yoh-fu', implying that they are compositions which can be set to music and sung, chanted, recited, &c. Some of the most charming poetical compositions are found in Chinese anthologies under the above-mentioned headings; but in this brief introduction it is only possible just to call the attention of readers to them without attempting to describe the form of each separately. For the same reason I cannot attempt any description of the ancient terms fung, ya, song, &c., to which, however, translators of the Shi-King have given some attention.
It is doubtful, indeed, whether the information which I can crowd into a few introductory pages will help readers to gain an insight into Chinese poetry in the making, or utterly confuse them; but I am loath to send forth the translations without an introduction, and I must, therefore, remind readers again that this introduction gives only the barest outline of the rise and progress of Chinese poetry, and of a few of the factors which are required by modern technique in the construction of poetical compositions since the revival of literature and poetry in the T'ang Dynasty.
It should be observed that no attempt has been made to reproduce the technique outlined above in the English translations of Chinese poems in this book, as it would be impossible to restrict the translations to lines of five and seven words. In Chinese each character is a word of one syllable only, therefore a five-character line of poetry contains only five monosyllabic words, and a seven-character line seven monosyllabic words; but as many articles, pronouns, prepositions, auxiliary verbs, &c., which are understood in the Chinese, must be inserted in the English translation in order to connect the meaning of the five or seven monosyllabic words which form a line of Chinese poetry, it is obvious that, in most cases, the length of the line in the translation must be longer than that in the original Chinese. Some Chinese poems might be rendered into English in lines of five or seven syllables without doing much violence to the meaning of the original, but in most cases, the five or seven monosyllabic line in Chinese is translated into English far more correctly and accurately by a line of eight, ten, or more syllables, because the Chinese reader mentally inserts connecting parts of speech which must be written in English to make the grammar correct and the meaning of a line complete.
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES OF A FEW OF THE MORE EMINENT CHINESE POETS
LI PEH.
Li Peh (Tai Peh; Tsing Lien) lived during the T'ang Dynasty, probably from A.D. 699 to 762, and he is regarded as the most brilliant of all Chinese poets.
He was connected by descent in the ninth generation with the Imperial family of the T'ang Dynasty, but was born in a remote part of the Empire now included in the Szechwan Province.
When but ten years old Li Peh was familiar with poetry and other branches of literature, and, as he grew older, his ability and genius attracted the attention and praise of the highest in the land. When introduced to the Court at Chang-an, Ho Chi-chang, one of the courtiers, exclaimed:--'He is one of the immortal genii banished to earth.' For a short time, too, he was greatly favoured by the Emperor, Hsüen-Tsung, but, having incurred the enmity of the Emperor's chief concubine, he had to withdraw from the Court and relinquish all hopes of official promotion.
He then travelled widely, writing many poems on the beauties of nature, and also in praise of wine and music, to the former of which he was too strongly addicted.
In the later part of his life, it seems, he became involved in political intrigues, for which offence he was banished to a distant region. But in his old age he was allowed to return, and he ended his days peacefully at T'ang-t'u (a place near the modern Nankin), whose governor was a kinsman named Li Yang-ping.
CHANG KIU-LING.
Chang Kiu-ling (Tze Sheo) was the son of an official in the T'ang Dynasty. At a very early age he displayed great ability, and while still comparatively young, took a high literary degree (Tsintze), and then held high office under the Emperor Hsüen-Tsung, with whom he sometimes ventured to remonstrate for his licentious life. Once when all the courtiers presented valuable gifts to the Emperor on his birthday, Chang Kiu-ling presented him with a book written by himself and styled 'The Thousand Year Mirror', showing the causes of success and failure in former dynasties. His advice, however, was not seriously heeded at the time, but after his death his faithfulness was appreciated and he was ennobled and afterwards canonized by the Emperor.
It is recorded by one writer that Chang Kiu-ling, when a youth, trained pigeons to carry letters to his friends.
WEI YING-WUH.
Wei Ying-wuh was a native of Honan during the T'ang Dynasty, and his poetical skill ranks very high even in that famous period. During the Cheng-Yuen reign (A.D. 785-804) he was appointed Prefect of Suchow, where his beneficent rule and devotion to literature called forth the gratitude and admiration of the people.
SU SHI.
Su Shi (Tze-Chan; Tong-Po), A.D. 1036-1101, was a native of Mei-shan in Szechwan. He won the highest literary degrees, and was advanced from one official office to another until he became a Minister of State; but, owing to political feuds and intrigues, he was degraded from his high office in the capital and sent to fill inferior posts in distant parts of the Empire, where he wrote poetry and diffused a love of literature among the people he ruled.
TU FU (A.D. 712-770).
Tu Fu (Tu Tze-Mei) was the son of Tu Fan-yen, a high official in the T'ang Dynasty. In the estimation of his countrymen he ranks next to Li Peh among the great poets of the Tang Dynasty, and a few critics would give him a still higher place.
When Tu Fu's literary ability and poetical genius were made known to the Emperor, office and honours were bestowed on him.
In the poetical composition known as the Seven-character Pai-lüh, Tu Fu is the most famous of all the poets of the T'ang Dynasty, if not of all Chinese poets.
EO YANG SIU (A.D. 1017-1072).
Eo Yang Siu (Yong-Shuh) was a famous scholar of the Song Dynasty; and he filled high official posts both in the capital and provinces, under the Emperor Ren-Tsong.
Being a man of integrity and independence he remonstrated with his Imperial master on several occasions, and sometimes suffered temporarily for his courage. His character, however, was appreciated by the Emperor, and restoration to favour followed every temporary eclipse. After his death he was canonized as Wen Chong Kong. His literary works are numerous.
SU WU (200-100 B.C.).
Su Wu (Tze K'ing) lived in the Han Dynasty. When sent on a mission to the Khan of the Hsiung-nu he was seized by that ruler and ordered to renounce his allegiance to the Han Emperor; and on refusing to do this he was cast into prison. Afterwards he was banished for many years to the desert region around Lake Balkash, where he was compelled to tend the flocks of the Hsiung-nu; but he persisted in his loyalty to the Han Dynasty. On his return to China, when a grey-headed old man, he was greatly honoured by the Emperor, and his portrait was hung up in the Khi-lin Koh (Council Chamber).
He is held up as a pattern of loyalty by Chinese writers. His poetical compositions are ancient but not numerous.
LI LING (First Century B.C.).
Li Ling was a military commander in the Han Dynasty. Given command of an army in the war against the Hsiung-nu he rashly advanced into the enemy's country with only a few thousand soldiers, who were surrounded and all but three or four hundred killed, and Li Ling was captured, and spent the rest of his life in exile. His name is mentioned in the Introduction to this book of translations.
CHU KWANG-HI.
Chu Kwang-hi was a soldier of the T'ang Dynasty. He passed the highest literary examinations, and was appointed a member of the Censorate by the Emperor Hsüen Tsong.
CHEN TZE-ANG.
A celebrated scholar of the T'ang Dynasty. He filled various official offices, but is most famous for the work he did in advancing the renaissance of literature during the T'ang Dynasty. Wang Shih, a learned writer of the same period, said that Chen Tze-ang was the most famous scholar in the Empire of that time.
T'AO YUEN-MING (A.D. 365-427).
T'ao T'sien (T'ao Yuen-ming) was a scholar and poet of the Song Dynasty. He was appointed Magistrate of a district, but after filling the office only a short time he resigned it and retired into private life, spending the remainder of his years in writing poetry and in musical pursuits.
CHINESE POEMS
_Only a Fragrant Spray_
NAME OF POET UNKNOWN (HAN DYNASTY OR EARLIER)
Ah me, the day you left me Was full of weary hours; But the tree 'neath which we parted Was rich with leaves and flowers.
And from its fragrant branches I plucked a tiny spray, And hid it in my bosom In memory of that day.
I know the endless distance Must shut you from my view, But the flower's gentle fragrance Brings sweetest thoughts of you.
And, though it's but a trifle, Which none would prize for gain, It oft renews our parting, With all the love and pain.
_The River By Night in Spring_
BY CHANG POH-HSÜ
In Spring the flooded river meets the tide Which from the ocean surges to the land; The moon across the rolling water shines From wave to wave to reach the distant strand.
And when the heaving sea and river meet, The latter turns and floods the fragrant fields; While in the moon's pale light as shimmering sleet Alike seem sandy shores and wooded wealds.
For sky and river in one colour blend, Without a spot of dust to mar the scene; While in the heavens above the full-orbed moon In white and lustrous beauty hangs serene.
And men and women, as the fleeting years, Are born into this world and pass away; And still the river flows, the moon shines fair, And will their courses surely run for ay.
But who was he who first stood here and gazed Upon the river and the heavenly light? And when did moon and river first behold The solitary watcher in the night?
The maples sigh upon the river's bank, A white cloud drifts across the azure dome; In yonder boat some traveller sails to-night Beneath the moon which links his thoughts with home.
Above the home it seems to hover long, And peep through chinks within her chamber blind; The moon-borne message she cannot escape, Alas, the husband tarries far behind!
She looks across the gulf but hears no voice, Until her heart with longing leaps apace, And fain would she the silvery moonbeams follow Until they shine upon her loved one's face.
'Last night,' she murmured sadly to herself, 'I dreamt of falling flowers by shady ponds; My Spring, ah me! half through its course has sped, But you return not to your wedded bonds.'
For ever onward flows the mighty stream; The Spring, half gone, is gliding to its rest; While on the river and the silent pools The moonbeams fall obliquely from the west.
And now the moon descending to the verge Has disappeared beneath the sea-borne dew; While stretch the waters of the 'Siao and Siang',[1] And rocks and cliffs, in never-ending view.
How many wanderers by to-night's pale moon Have met with those from whom so long apart:-- As on the shore midst flowerless trees I stand Thoughts old and new surge through my throbbing heart!
[1] Two streams flowing into the Yangtze River.
_The Beauty of Snow_
BY PAO-CHAO
A thousand miles across the Dragon Mountains The North Wind blows the whirling flakes of snow, Until they gather on my terraced garden, And drift before the gate in furrowed row.
Unlike the coloured plum and fragrant peach trees, Whose buds stretch forth to greet the warm Spring days, At dawn the snow lies in unsullied whiteness, But flees to shelter from the sun's bright rays.
The peach flower and the plum flower have a beauty, Which flourish in the warmth of sun and shower; The snow's brief charm is purity and brightness, It does not claim the sun tints of the flower.
_A Maiden's Reverie_
T'SIN DYNASTY, A.D. 265-419
The plum-tree's flower awakens Thoughts of my lover now, And I would pluck some blossoms And send to far Si-chow.
But such a distant region The flowers might never reach, While if I go in person, How great the joy to each!
I'll brush my glossy tresses, More dark than raven's plume; I'll wear my plum silk mantle, And banish tears and gloom.
But where, alack, is Si-chow? Far in the North, I know; Oh, when I've crossed the river I'll ask which way to go!
Ah me, the sun is setting, Si-chow is far away; The birds are homeward turning, I cannot start to-day.
I'll keep an evening vigil Beneath the cedar-tree That stands outside the porch-way; My love may come to me!
The jewels my hair adorning Are glistening with the dew; But still my lover tarries;-- What keeps him from my view?
A gentle breeze is blowing, The night is bright as day; I'll go and gather lilies, And meet him on the way.
In the early Autumn season The lotus lilies red Are in the south pool growing, And reach above my head.
My thoughts on old times musing, I stoop to pluck some seeds, In their shimmering greenness As water 'mongst the reeds.
I put some in my bosom, For the core is red as blood, As the heart of a true lover, When love is at the flood.
Pressed to my bosom closely-- No safer place, I wot, For tokens of betrothal; And yet my love comes not!
Above my head in batches The wild geese northward hie, And they will pass o'er Si-chow! Oh, would that I could fly!
I'll mount the northern turret; Perhaps from that lofty height I'll see my lover coming, The herald of the light.
Although the tower is lofty, I cannot see afar To where my love is dwelling, Beneath the Northern Star.
From morn until the evening-- How long the hours do seem!-- I've paced around the turret, As in a weary dream.
Once more I'll raise the curtain, And show my lamp's pale light; My love may miss the pathway, And wander in the night.
How lofty are the heavens! How vast the heaving sea! Ah, life is sad and dreary When love comes not to me!
But though my heart is weary, I trust my lover's vow; The south wind knows my longings And will bear them to Si-chow.
And though the seas divide us Our hearts are one for ay, And in sweet dreams will mingle Until the meeting day.
_A Song of the Marches_
BY LI TAI-PEH
T'ANG DYNASTY
The Tien-shan peaks still glisten In robes of spotless white; To songs of Spring I listen, But see no flowers around.
The ground is bare and dreary, No voice of Spring I hear, Save the 'Willow Song',[2] so eerie, I play upon my flute.
At morn the fight will follow The sound of bugle call; Each man, in sleep, the hollow[3] Across his saddle clasps.
And by his side unrusted, His sword is closely laid, With which he long has trusted The tyrant foe[4] to slay.
On noble chargers riding, And fleeter than the wind, All fears and risks deriding, They cross the river Wei.
Their bows are tautened tightly, Their quivers full of shafts, They face the danger lightly, And charge the haughty foe.
As rocks by lightning riven Their ranks are rent apart; As clouds by tempest driven They break and flee away.
Then on the sand, blood-streaming, The weary victors sleep, Their swords with hoar-frost gleaming, Their bows dark shadows cast.
The Pass has been defended, The foes are scattered far, The soldiers' wives untended May seek their homes again.
[2] The name of a tune.
[3] The Chinese saddle is curved upwards both in front and at the back, leaving a deep hollow in the centre where the rider sits.
[4] Tartar tribes beyond the frontiers.
_The Cowherd and the Spinning-Maid_[5]
BY LUH-KI
Brightly shines the Starry River Flowing down the Heavenly glade; From the north-west comes the 'Herd-Boy', From the south-east looks the 'Maid'.
Quickly waves a white hand shapely, Sadly smiles her beauteous face, When she sees her faithful lover Far across the glittering space.
Arms stretched out towards each other-- With impulsive feet they stand; Eyes with sorrow's tears bedewèd-- On the Star-Stream's shining strand.
But, alas, that bridgeless River Is the cause of all their pain, Dooming 'Spinning-Maid' and 'Herd-Boy' Nevermore to meet again.
[5] According to a Chinese legend the stars K'ien-Niu (Cowherd) and Chih-Nü (Spinning-Maid) are two lovers, doomed by the gods to live on opposite sides of the 'River of Stars' (Milky Way). As there is no bridge over this river, the two lovers can only stand afar and gaze at each other. (See note to 'The Swallow's Song'.)
_The Old Soldier's Return_
AN ANCIENT POEM: POET UNKNOWN
I was but fifteen when I left my friends For distant climes to fight our Country's foe, And now I'm eighty--back for the first time To see the home I left so long ago.
Where is the house? I should be near it now, Yet possibly I may have gone astray; Long years abroad have blurred the youthful brain, I'll ask this countryman to point the way.
'The house is yonder--midst those grassy mounds, Beneath the shade of fir and cypress trees, And there lie buried all the kith and kin Of former tillers of these fallow leas.'
The veteran sighed and wandered to the house, And found it overgrown and desolate; A startled hare fled through the kennel's hole, And pheasants flew from ceiling beams ornate.
Exhausted by the journey and his grief, The old man plucked some grain from patches wild, And mallows from around the courtyard well, As in the days when but a little child.
But when the homely fare was cooked and spread, And not a friend to cheer the lonely place, He rose, and going out to eastward gazed, While tears flowed down his worn and furrowed face.
_On the Lake near the Western Mountains_
BY CH'ANG KIEN.
T'ANG DYNASTY (ANCIENT STYLE)
Here at the foot-hills of the Western Mountains My boat rides idly on the current's trail, And in the lengthening radiance of the sunset It seems to chase its own reflected sail.
While in the rarer light that heralds evening The forms of all things clearer seem to grow; The forests and the glades and mountain ranges Catch added beauty from the afterglow.
The graceful minarets in cloudland floating From jadestone green take on a sombre hue, But still flush rose tints in the darkness falling, Although the sun has disappeared from view.
The shadows of the islands and the islets Stretch far across the surface of the lake; The evening mists that float above the waters Are bright as rain-clouds after showers break.
In the distance Tsu's[6] abounding forests Reveal their sombre outlines in the gloom; While on the farther shore the gates of King-chow Within the growing darkness faintly loom.
The atmosphere with nightfall groweth clearer, A north wind blows with shrill voice through the land; While on the sandy stretches by the waters The swan and stork in dreamy silence stand.
The waters now have ceased from restless heaving, My little boat is screened by rushes green; The moon emerging from the lake's horizon A soft light sheds upon the silent scene.
Amid the silence and the ghostly beauty I touch my lute to plaintive songs of old, And soon the pleasant strains and long-drawn cadence Have seized my senses in their subtle hold.
Thus in such ecstasy the hours pass quickly, And midnight comes with undetected speed; But now the heavy dew upon me falling Recalls my senses to the body's need.
Ah me! my body's but a fragile vessel Upon the ever-moving sea of life, Where light and shade and fitful joys and sorrows Control me in their everchanging strife.
[6] The name of a large feudal State in the Cheu Dynasty; it included Hupeh and Hunan and parts of Honan and Kiangsu. King-chow on the Yangtze was the capital.
_The Happy Farmer_
BY CHU KWANG-HI
T'ANG DYNASTY
I've a hundred mulberry trees And thirty 'mow' of grain, With sufficient food and clothes, And friends my wine to drain.
The fragrant grain of 'Ku-mi' seed Provides our Summer fare; Our Autumn brew of aster wine Is rich beyond compare.
My goodwife comes with smiling face To welcome all our guests; My children run with willing feet To carry my behests.
When work is done and evening come, We saunter to the park, And there, 'neath elm and willow trees We're blithe as soaring lark.
With wine and song the hours fly by Till each in cloudland roams, And then, content with all the world, We wander to our homes.
Through lattice-window steals a breeze, As on my couch I lie, While overhead the 'Silver Stream' Flows through a splendid sky.
And as I gaze it comes to mind-- A dozen jars at least Of the aster-scented wine remain To grace to-morrow's feast.
_An Old House Unroofed by an Autumn Gale_
BY TU FU
T'ANG DYNASTY
The roof of my house has been blown away By the fiercest of Autumn winds to-day; It was merely of grass and branches built-- Yet my only shelter save a wadded quilt.