The Distant Parting

Long ago there were two queens called Huang and Ying. And they

stood on the shores of the Hsiao-hsiang, to the south of Lake

Tung-t’ing. Their sorrow was deep as the waters of the Lake that

go straight down a thousand miles. Dark clouds blackened the sun.

Shōjō howled in the mist and ghosts whistled in the rain. The

queens said, “Though we speak of it we cannot mend it. High Heaven is

secretly afraid to shine on our loyalty. But the thunder crashes and

bellows its anger, that while Yao and Shun are here they should also be

crowning Yü. When a prince loses his servants, the dragon turns into a

minnow. When power goes to slaves, mice change to tigers.

These queens were the daughters of the Emperor Yao, who gave them

in marriage to Shun, and abdicated in his favour. Shun’s ministers

conspired against him and set “the Great Yü” on the throne. A legend

says that the spots on the bamboo-leaves which grow on the Hsiang River

were caused by the tears of these two queens.

I use the Japanese form as being more familiar. A kind of

demon-monkey is meant.

“Some say that Yao is shackled and hidden away, and that Shun has died

in the fields.

“But the Nine Hills of Deceit stand there in a row, each like each;

and which of them covers the lonely bones of the Double-eyed One, our

Master?”

So the royal ladies wept, standing amid yellow clouds. Their tears

followed the winds and waves, that never return. And while they wept,

they looked out into the distance and saw the deep mountain of Tsang-wu.

“The mountain of Tsang-wu shall fall and the waters of the Hsiang

shall cease, sooner than the marks of our tears shall fade from these

bamboo-leaves.”

* * * * *

[Of this poem and the “Szechwan Road” a critic has said: “You could

recite them all day without growing tired of them.”]