Sent to the Commissary Yüan of Ch’iao City, in Memory Of

FORMER EXCURSIONS

Do you remember how once at Lo-yang, Tung Tsao-ch’in built us a

wine-tower south of the T’ien-ching Bridge?

With yellow gold and tallies of white jade we bought songs and

laughter, and we were drunk month after month, with no thought of kings

and princes, though among us were the wisest and bravest within the

Four Seas, and men of high promotion.

Lit. “blue clouds people.”

(But with you above all my heart was at no cross-purpose.) Going

round mountains and skirting lakes was as nothing to them. They poured

out their hearts and minds, and held nothing back.

A phrase from Chuang Tzŭ.

Then I went off to Huai-nan to pluck the laurel-branches, and you

stayed north of the Lo, sighing over thoughts and dreams.

Huai-nan is associated with laurel-branches, owing to a famous

poem by the King of Huai-nan.

We could not endure separation. We sought each other out and went on

and on together, exploring the Fairy Castle.

Name of a mountain.

We followed the thirty-six bends of the twisting waters, and all along

the streams a thousand different flowers were in bloom. We passed

through ten thousand valleys, and in each we heard the voice of wind

among the pines.

Then the Governor of Han-tung came out to meet us, on a silver saddle

with tassels of gold that reached to the ground. And the Initiate of

Tzŭ-yang summoned us, blowing on his jade shēng. And Sennin music

was made in the tower of Ts’an Hsia, loud as the blended voices of

phœnix and roc.

I.e., Hu Tzŭ-yang, a Taoist friend of the poet’s.

Lit. “Feeding on sunset-cloud” Tower, built by Hu Tzŭ-yang.

And the Governor of Han-tung, because his long sleeves would not keep

still when the flutes called to him, rose and drunkenly danced. Then he

brought his embroidered coat and covered me with it, and I slept with

my head on his lap.

At the feast our spirits had soared to the Nine Heavens, but before

evening we were scattered like stars or rain, flying away over hills

and rivers to the frontier of Ch’u. I went back to my mountain to seek

my old nest, and you, too, went home, crossing the Wei Bridge.

Then your father, who was brave as leopard or tiger, became Governor of

Ping-chou and put down the rebel bands. And in the fifth month he

sent for me. I crossed the T’ai-hang Mountains; and though it was hard

going on the Sheep’s Gut Hills, I paid no heed to broken wheels.

I.e., T’ai-yüan Fu.

When at last, far on into Winter, I got to the Northern Capital, I

was moved to see how much you cared for my reception and how little you

cared for the cost--amber cups and fine foods on a blue jade dish. You

made me drunk and satisfied. I had no thought of returning.

I.e., T’ai-yüan Fu.

Sometimes we went out towards the western corner of the City, to where

waters like green jade flow round the temple of Shu Yü. We launched

our boat and sported on the stream, while flutes and drums sounded. The

little waves were like dragon-scales, and the sedge-leaves were pale

green. When it was our mood, we took girls with us and gave ourselves

to the moments that passed, forgetting that it would soon be over, like

willow-flowers or snow. Rouged faces, flushed with drink, looked well

in the sunset. Clear water a hundred feet deep reflected the faces

of the singers--singing-girls delicate and graceful in the light of

the young moon. And the girls sang again and again to make the gauze

dresses dance. The clear wind blew the songs away into the empty sky:

the sound coiled in the air like moving clouds in flight.

A brother of Prince Ch’ēng, of the Chou dynasty.

The pleasures of those times shall never again be met with. I went West

to offer up a Ballad of Tall Willows, but got no promotion at the

Northern Gate and, white-headed, went back to the Eastern Hills.

Yang Hsiung, died A.D. 18, having lived all his life in obscurity,

obtained promotion in his old age by a poem of this title.

Once we met at the Southern end of Wei Bridge, but scattered again to

the north of the Tso Terrace.

And if you ask me how many are my regrets at this parting, I will tell

you they come from me thick as the flowers that fall at Spring’s end.

But I cannot tell you all I feel; I could not even if I went on talking

for ever. So I call in the boy and make him kneel here and tie this up,

and send it to you, a remembrance, from a thousand miles away.