5: A Few Words on Li Bai

Li Bai holds one of the most august thrones in the history of Chinese poetry, as Matt mentioned in the introduction to Li Bai he published here back in November. Li Bai was also a man of his time - a man, that is, on the border of many worlds.

I mentioned during my translations of Zhang Jiuling that, while Westerners tend to think of Chinese history as largely separate from the larger world, the Tang Dynasty was defined by international trade, border wars, and multiculturalism. The Tang capital at Chang'an, which is known today as Xi'an, was the gateway to the Silk Road, an intersection between the Turkic peoples of Central Asia and the Han Chinese. The spices, cloth, poetry, and blood of many cultures flowed through Chang'an, and left a mark that can be seen to this day in the city's cuisine, architecture, and cosmopolitan attitude. Li Bai's life story shares something of this character.

He was born either in southern Gansu province, or (according to some soruces) even further out on the Silk Road, near the modern city of Tokmok, in Kyrgyzstan. Contemporary biographical sources are sparse, but he apparently grew up speaking Turkish as well as Chinese. His family moved to the more central province of Sichuan during his youth, and in his childhood he was captivated by Daoist mysticism and swordplay. He was a frequent and, apparently, enthusiastic duelist. After achieving initial success at court, he offended a chief Imperial eunuch, and found his hopes of advancement within the Tang bureaucracy blocked. During the chaos surrounding the An Lushan Rebellion, Li Bai joined a smaller rebel faction, and was exiled to Anhui province after the rebellion's failure.

Li Bai spoke the Turkish language and fought in a Turkish general's rebellion against the Tang emperor, and yet his poems are a wellspring of Chinese culture. In this nationalist age, it can be hard to imagine someone straddling worlds and lives to such an extent. Then again, that's what many of us try to do today, with travel, with translation, and with the internet: introduce one world to another, or live one life in the context of many others. In that case, maybe we should be looking at artists like Li Bai to help chart the way.

10: Du Fu - The Beautiful Woman

Max has evinced a desire to translate in the order of the Hengtang Hermit Edition (sometimes called the "Retired Master of Hengtang", and certainly deserving a post of its own), but, wild free spirit that I am, I have chosen instead to jump around. And so I present the tenth poem of the collection, by Du Fu:

010 杜甫: 佳人

绝代有佳人,幽居在空谷。

自云良家子,零落依草木。

关中昔丧乱,兄弟遭杀戮。

官高何足论,不得收骨肉。

世情恶衰歇,万事随转烛。

夫婿轻薄儿,新人美如玉。

合昏尚知时,鸳鸯不独宿。

但见新人笑,那闻旧人哭!

在山泉水清,出山泉水浊。

侍婢卖珠回,牵萝补茅屋。

摘花不插发,采柏动盈掬。

天寒翠袖薄,日暮倚修竹。

jiā rén

jué dài yǒu jiā rén, yōu jū zài kōng gǔ

zì yún liáng jiā zǐ, líng luò yī cǎo mù

guān zhōng xī sāng luàn, xiōng dì zāo shā lù

guān gāo hé zú lùn, bù dé shōu gǔ ròu

shì qíng è shuāi xiē, wàn shì suí zhuǎn zhú

fū xù qīng bó ér, xīn rén měi rú yù

hé hūn shàng zhī shí, yuān yāng bù dú sù

dàn jiàn xīn rén xiào, nǎ wén jiù rén kū

zài shān quán shuǐ qīng, chū shān quán shuǐ zhuó

shì bì mài zhū huí, qiān luó bǔ máo wū

zhāi huā bù chā fā, cǎi bǎi dòng yíng jū

tiān hán cuì xiù báo, rì mù yǐ xiū zhú

the beautiful woman

cut generation has beautiful people, secluded inhabit in empty valley

self say good family son/child, alone fallen rely grass wood

central plain former-times death chaos, brothers met-disaster killed massacred

official high how enough discuss, not worth gather bones flesh

world condition evil fall cease, ten-thousand things follow turn candle

man son-in-law light thin, new people beautiful like jade

unite dim(meet at night) still know time (the Time of Knowing), male(duck) female(duck) not alone sleep

only/but see new people laugh, that hear old people cry

in mountain pool water clear, leave mountain pool water muddy

servant maid sell pearl return, lead-on/pull vine mend thatch house

pluck flower not insert hair, gather cypress move full/surplus hold-with-both-hands

sky cold emerald sleeve thin, sun dusk lean-on slender bamboo

__

The Beautiful Woman

In generations long past, there was a beautiful woman who lived alone in an empty valley.

Quoth she:

"I, the child of a good family, am fallen

empty, to lean on grass and wood.

Of late the lands Between the Passes are beset by death and chaos,

brothers cursed to kill and to massacre.

Of those high officials what can be said? They could not

order even their own bones and flesh.

The mood of the world is evil, fallen, exhausted, and all

the Ten Thousand Things flicker and turn like candle flame.

My husband was weak and thin,

his new woman beautiful as jade.

They met at dusk in the Time of Knowing, before the flowers closed,

mated ducks who would not pass the night alone.

He only sees that new one, how can he

hear this old one cry?

In the mountains, spring-water is clear.

Leave the mountains, and such pools thicken with mud.

My maid has gone to sell my pearls, and she returns

trailing vines to mend my thatched hut.

I pluck flowers but do not bind them into my hair, I seek

for cypress to fill my hands and carry home.

The sky is cold and my emerald sleeves thin, and

as the sun dims I lean on a slender bamboo."

1: An Lushan

I know I was going to write about Taoism today, but after mentioning Zhang Jiuling's biography two days ago and chatting about it with Matt, I realized that there's some more historical context to this poem (and to the Tang dynasty in general) that will help set the stage for the rest of the Tang poetry we'll encounter on this project.

The Tang, which lasted from 618 to 907 CE, was a Chinese cultural high point, a cosmopolitan and outward-facing dynasty which traded liberally with Central Asian and Turkic peoples. Innovations in art, design, architecture, technology, and cuisine rose out of these three hundred years of prosperity. The Tang reached its peak under Emperor Xuanzong in the 8th century CE, and then, toward the end of his life, started to fall apart.

Everything begins going south with the rise to power of a general named An Lushan, the half-Tujue, half-Turkic son of a sorceress (I swear) who rose to become a general of the Tang armies and rebelled against the dynasty, capturing the capital of Chang'an and setting off a chain of rebellion and riot that destabilized the dynasty and led to its fall in the next century. Many poets in the 300 Tang Poems were exiled or killed or scattered in An Lushan's wake.

Thing is, before An Lushan became a revolutionary, he was a military official, who failed to follow the orders of his superior in battle. Zhang Jiuling, who was the Emperor's counselor at the time, advised the Emperor to execute An Lushan.

Of course, the Emperor pardoned An instead, and listened to a number of pro-war advisors (including a guy named Li Linfu) who claimed An would be more useful alive and terrorizing the central steppe than dead. The rise of this military faction was Zhang Jiuling's undoing, and led to his exile into Hubei, where he ultimately died.

When An Lushan rebelled, captured the capital city, and nearly toppled the dynasty sixteen years later, I'm sure Li Linfu and all the rest involved in Zhang's exile were very pleased with themselves.