Song of the Stone Drum
Author: Han Yu
chang handed me this tracing, from the stone drums, advised me to try to write a song of the stone drum.
du Fu has gone. Li Bai is dead, what can my poor talent do for the stone drums?.
when the Zhou power waned and China was bubbling, emperor Xuan, up in wrath, waved his holy spear.
and opened his Great Audience, receiving all the tributes, of kings and lords who came to him with a tune of clanging weapons.
they held a hunt in Qiyang and proved their marksmanship, fallen birds and animals were strewn three thousand miles.
and the exploit was recorded, to inform new generations, cut out of jutting cliffs, these drums made of stone.
on which poets and artisans, all of the first order, had indited and chiselled-were set in the deep mountains.
to be washed by rain, baked by sun, burned by wildfire, the ghost guardian is annoying.
where can he have found the tracing on this paper?, true to the original, not altered by a hair.
the meaning deep, the phrases cryptic, difficult to read, and the style of the characters neither square nor tadpole.
time has not yet vanquished the beauty of these letters, looking like sharp daggers that pierce live crocodiles.
like phoenix-mates dancing, like angels hovering down, like trees of jade and coral with interlocking branches.
like golden cord and iron chain tied together tight, like incense-tripods flung in the sea, like dragons mounting heaven.
historians, gathering ancient poems, forgot to gather these, to make the two Books of Musical Song more colourful and striking.
confucius journeyed in the west, but not to the Qin Kingdom, he chose our planet and our stars but missed the sun and moon.
it's a long way to go, and, thinking of these wonderful things, cannot hold back my tears.
I remember, when I was awarded my highest degree, during the first year of Yuanhe.
The ancients joined the army in Youfu, offered to assist me in removing these old relics.
I bathed and changed, then made my plea to the college president, and urged on him the rareness of these most precious things.
In they could be wrapped in rugs, be packed and sent in boxes, ten drums only carry a few camels.
to grace the Imperial Temple like the Incense-Pot of Gao, or their lustre and their value would increase a hundredfold.
if the monarch would present them to the university, where students could study them and doubtless decipher them.
and multitudes, attracted to the capital of culture, from all corners of the Empire, would be quick to gather.
we could scour the moss, pick out the dirt, restore the original surface, and lodge them in a fitting and secure place for ever.
The building has deep eaves and covers, which have gone through a long period of time.
but government officials grow fixed in their ways, and never will initiate beyond old precedent.
so herd-boys strike the drums for fire, cows polish horns on them, who will start rubbing again?
still ageing and decaying, soon they may be effaced, six years I have sighed for them, chanting toward the west.
the familiar script of Wang Xizhi, beautiful though it was, could be had, several pages, just for a few white geese.
but now, eight dynasties after the Zhou, and all the wars over, why should there be nobody caring for these drums.
the Empire is at peace, the government free, poets again are honoured and Confucians and Mencians.
oh, how may this petition be carried to the throne, it needs indeed an eloquent flow, like a cataract.
but, alas, my voice has broken, in my song of the stone drums, to a sound of supplication choked with its own tears.
Notes:
1. Shaoling: Du Fu;
2. fallen fairy: Li Bai.
3. Lingchi: Decline.
4. Search: hunting.
5. Block Luo: Stop and arrest.
6. death.
7. fly.
8. adopt;
9. Xi: xi he, here refers to the sun;
1. e: refers to the moon.
11. promise: yes or no;
12. Well, I have no opinion.
13. Eight Dynasties: The reference is unknown, generally referring to the dynasties after Qin and Han Dynasties.
14. then: what can I do?
Translation:
Zhang Sheng holds a rubbings of Shi Guwen in the Zhou Dynasty, and
advises me to write a drum song praising it.
Du Fu and Li Bai are talented, but they are all dead.
People with poor talents are helpless in the face of stone drums.
The political decline of the Zhou Dynasty made the whole country turbulent.
Zhou Xuanwang rose up in anger and waved his troops.
At the time of the celebration, the Ming Hall was opened wide to accept the congratulations, and
the princes followed one after another, scratching their swords.
Xuan Wang is so handsome when he hunts in Qiyang.
Animals everywhere are trapped.
In order to make the heroic work famous by carving stones,
Carving stone drums on mountains destroyed the rugged mountains.
The talents of the followers are the best in the world.
Choose excellent writing stones and put them on the hillside.
Despite years of rain, sun, fire and burning,
Guarding the stone drum with ghosts and gods will never be lost.
where did you get the manuscript of this rubbings?
it's complete at all, and there are no mistakes at all.
the words are rigorous and the contents are difficult to understand.
The font is not as unique as the official script.
It is inevitable that the strokes will be damaged and incomplete after a long time.
It is still like a sword cutting off a living dumpling.
The handwriting is as elegant as a husband and wife flying in the air, and
The strokes are as intertwined as coral and green branches.
The vigorous hook is like a golden rope and an iron rope threading a lock button,
It's just like weaving a dragon.
In my humble opinion, Confucian scholars compile the Book of Songs but don't earn any money.
The content of elegance and elegance is narrow but not magnificent.
It's no wonder that Sun Tzu didn't travel to the Qin Dynasty and was ignorant.
Poetry-picking is not like taking the stars but missing Xi 'e.
Ah, although I am old, I was born too late.
I cried my eyes out at Shi Guwen.
I was called to be a doctor in imperial academy,
I was called Yuanhe when I was changing my year,
My friend worked in Fengxiang House, and
I once designed and excavated a stone drum pit for me.
I brushed my hat and bathed and told imperial academy to offer a drink;
how many such treasures can exist in the world?
It can be delivered immediately as long as the mat is wrapped in felt.
Ten stone drums only need a few camels.
offering it to the ancestral temple compares it to a writing object.
Isn't that a hundred times more expensive than a tripod?
If Emperor Enmighty is allowed to stay in Imperial College,
all the students can study and explain together.
In the Han Dynasty, the temple viewing in Hongdumen was still congested.
You will see the whole country rushing about for it.
gouge out the moss mud dust to reveal the edges and corners of the text,
put it flat, steady and even.
The high-rise building is covered with thick tiles with deep eaves,
After a long time, it will not be damaged by accidents.
The officials in the DPRK are all sophisticated.
They have no opinions, so why are they willing to rush about?
The shepherd boy knocks the bull on the drum to sharpen its horns.
Who can touch this treasure again?
years of weathering will be buried.
looking west for six years, I'm sighing!
Wang Xizhi took the opportunity to show his charm in calligraphy, and
writing several pieces of calligraphy can also be exchanged for a group of white geese.
After the Zhou Dynasty, the eight generations of wars have ended.
So far, no one has cleaned up. What can we do?
Now the world is peaceful, the country is peaceful and the people are safe.
The emperor attaches great importance to Confucianism and worships Kong Qiu Mencius.
How can I suggest this matter to the emperor?
I'm willing to use an eloquent person to make a flow of words.
Let's call it a day when the Shigu song is written here.
Alas, my wish is probably for nothing!
Appreciation:
Shi Guwen is the earliest stone carving in China, which was made in Qin Dynasty. The content narrates the hunting situation, and the text is Da Zhuan. What Han thought Zhou Xuanwang did. Its object is now hidden in the Palace Museum in Beijing.
The poet lamented the abandonment of the stone drum cultural relics and urged the authorities to protect the stone drum and not adopt it, so he complained bitterly. The first four sentences are always from the beginning, and I am ashamed that I dare not write songs without Li Du's talent. Zhou Gang's twelve sentences are about tracing the history of stone drums. Ten sentences of public obedience are about Shi Guwen's words and fonts and their reserved values. The six sentences of "Rude Confucians" are the suspicion that Shi Guwen was not accepted in The Book of Songs, which is the carelessness of Confucius. Recalling the past 18 sentences is the process of discovering the stone drum and suggesting to retain the Imperial College. The ten sentences of China and North Korea are that the Syrian authorities refused to accept the poet's suggestion and lamented the abolition of the stone drum cultural relics. Fang Jin's six sentences hope that in the era of respecting Confucianism, the stone drum can be relocated to the Imperial College.
the composition is neat, the words are strict and dense, and the rhyme is clear. Han Yu's Ancient Poems
Rocks
Han Yu
rough were the mountain-stones, and the path very narrow, and when I reached the temple, bats were in the dusk.
I climbed to the hall, sat on the steps, and drank the rain-washed air, among the round gardenia-pods and huge bananaleaves.
on the old wall, said the priest, were Buddhas finely painted, and he brought a light and showed me, and I called them wonderful.
he spread the bed, dusted the mats, and made my supper ready, and, though the food was coarse, it satisfied my hunger.
at midnight, while I lay there not hearing even an insect, the mountain moon with her pure light entered my door.
at dawn I left the mountain and, alone, lost my way, in and out, up and down, while a heavy mist.
made brook and mountain green and purple, brightening everything, I am passing sometimes pines and oaks, which ten men could not girdle.
When the stream treads on the rocks barefoot, its ripples purify my ear, while a soft wind blows my garments.
these are the things which, in themselves, make life happy, is it necessary to govern others? .
o chosen pupils, far behind me in my own country, what if I spent my old age here and never went back home?.
on the festival of the moon to sub-official zhang
Han Yu
the fine clouds have opened and the River of Stars is gone, a clear wind blows across the sky, and the moon widens its wave.
the sand is smooth, the water still, no sound and no shadow, as I offer you a cup of wine, asking you to sing.
but so sad is this song of yours and so bitter your voice, that before I finish listening my tears have become a rain.
where Lake Dongting is joined to the sky by the lofty Nine-Doubt Mountain, dragons, crocodiles, rise and sink, apes, flying foxes, whimper.
at a ten to one risk of death, I have reached my official post, where lonely I live and hushed, as though I were in hiding.
I leave my bed, afraid of snakes; I eat, fearing poisons, the air of the lake is putrid, breathing its evil odours.
Yesterday, I beat a big drum in front of the state, the crowning of an emperor, a change in the realm.
the edict granting pardons runs three hundred miles a day, all those who were to die have had their sentences commuted.
the unseated are promoted and exiles are recalled, corruptions are abolished, clean officers appointed.
my superior sent my name in but the governor would not listen, Kan Ke had to change his ways.
my rank is very low and useless to refer to, they might punish me with lashes in the dust of the street.
most of my fellow exiles are now returning home, a journey which, to me, is a heaven beyond climbing.
stop your song, I beg you, and listen to mine, a song that is utterly different from yours:
tonight is the loveliest moon of the year, all else is with fate, not ours to control and
but, refusing this wine, may we choose more tomorrow??
stopping at a temple on heng mountain i inscribe this poem in the gate-tower
Han Yu
the five Holy Mountains have the rank of the Three Dukes, the other four make a ring, with the Song Mountain midmost.
to this one, in the fire-ruled south, where evil signs are rife, heaven gave divine power, ordaining it a peer.
all the clouds and hazes are hidden in its girdle, and its forehead is beholden only by a few.
in I came here in autumn, during the rainy season, there is no breeze.
I quieted my mind and prayed, hoping for an answer, for assuredly righteous thinking reaches to high heaven.
and soon all the mountain-peaks were showing me their faces, I looked up at a pinnacle that held the clean blue sky.
the wide Purple-Canopy joined the Celestial Column, the Stone Granary leapt, while the Fire God stood still.
moved by this token, I dismounted to offer thanks, pine and cypress all the way to the spirit palace.
The pink walls and the red pillars are shining brightly, of gods and devils filled the place with patterns of red and blue.
I climbed the steps and, bending down to sacrifice, besought, that my pure heart might be welcome, in spite of my humble offering.
the old priest professed to know the judgment of the God, he was polite and reverent, making many bows.
Guide me to throw with a cup dumpling, and told me that my fortune was the very best of all.
though exiled to a barbarous land, mine is a happy life, plain food and plain clothes are all I ever wanted.
to be prince, duke, premier, general, was never my desire;, and if the God would bless me, what better could he grant than this?.
at night I lie down to sleep in the top of a high tower, the stars and the moon cover the clouds? .
apes call, a bell sounds. And ready for dawn, I see arise, far in the east the cold bright sun.
Shigu Song
Han Yu
chang handed me this tracing, from the stone drums advised me to try Shigu Song.
du Fu has gone. Li Bai is dead, what can my poor talent do for the stone drums?.
when the Zhou power waned and China was bubbling, emperor Xuan, up in wrath, waved his holy spear.
and opened his Great Audience, receiving all the tributes, of kings and lords who came to him with a tune of clanging weapons.
they held a hunt in Qiyang and proved their marksmanship, fallen birds and animals were strewn three thousand miles.
and the exploit was recorded, to inform new generations, cut out of jutting cliffs, these drums made of stone.
on which poets and artisans, all of the first order, had indited and chiselled-were set in the deep mountains.
to be washed by rain, baked by sun, burned by wildfire, are you tired of guarding ghosts? Oh.
where can he have found the tracing on this paper?, true to the original, not altered by a hair.
the meaning deep, the phrases cryptic, difficult to read, and the style of the characters neither square nor tadpole.
time has not yet vanquished the beauty of these letters, looking like sharp daggers that pierce live crocodiles.
like phoenix-mates dancing, like angels hovering down, like trees of jade and coral with interlocking branches.
like golden cord and iron chain tied together tight. Like incense-tripods flung in the sea, like dragons mounting heaven.
historians, gathering ancient poems, forgot to gather these, to make the two Books of Musical Song more colourful and striking.
confucius journeyed in the west, but not to the Qin Kingdom, he chose our planet and our stars but missed the sun and moon.
it's a long way to go, and, thinking of these wonderful things, cannot hold back my tears.
I remember, when I was awarded my highest degree, during the first year of Yuanhe.
The ancients joined the army in Youfu, offered to assist me in removing these old relics.
I bathed and changed, then made my plea to the college president, and urged on him the rareness of these most precious things.
In they could be wrapped in rugs, be packed and sent in boxes, ten drums only carry a few camels.
to grace the Imperial Temple like the Incense-Pot of Gao, or their lustre and their value would increase a hundredfold.
if the monarch would present them to the university, where students could study them and doubtless decipher them.
and multitudes, attracted to the capital of culture, from all corners of the Empire, would be quick to gather.
we could scour the moss, pick out the dirt, restore the original surface, and lodge them in a fitting and secure place for ever.
The building has deep eaves and covers, which have gone through a long period of time.
but government officials grow fixed in their ways, are you a grateful disciple? Hmm.
so herd-boys strike the drums for fire, cows polish horns on them, with no one to handle them reverentially.
still ageing and decaying, soon they may be effaced, six years I have sighed for them, chanting toward the west.
the familiar script of Wang Xizhi, beautiful though it was. Could be had, several pages, just for a few white geese.
but now, eight dynasties after the Zhou, and all the wars over, why should there be nobody caring for these drums.
the Empire is at peace, the government free, poets again are honoured and Confucians and Mencians.
oh, how may this petition be carried to the throne, it needs indeed an eloquent flow, like a cataract.
but, alas, my voice has broken, in my song of the stone drums, to a sound of supplication choked with its own tears. Han Yu's Late Spring
"Late Spring"
Author: Han Yu
Original text:
The grass and trees know that spring will come back soon, and all kinds of flowers are fighting for the grass.
yang Hua Yu pod has no talent, but only knows how to make snow fly all over the sky.
Note:
1. This is one of Sixteen Poems of Traveling South of the City, which was written in the 11th year of Yuanhe. At this time, the poet was nearly half a century old.
2. Return soon: It will be over.
3. Yang Hua: catkin
4. Ulmus pumila: also known as Ulmus pumila. Before the elm leaves, it first grows pods among the branches. The pods are small and shaped like money. The pods are always white and fall with the wind.
5. Talent: talent and ability.
Translation:
Flowers and trees know that spring is coming home,
They all want to keep the pace of spring, but they are competing for beauty.
Even the beautiful flowers of Yang Hua and Yu Qian are unwilling to be lonely.
They dance with the wind and turn into flying snow.
Appreciation:
Here, it seems that it only depicts the beautiful scenery in late spring in an anthropomorphic way. In fact, it also implies that people should take advantage of the time to make progress and seize the opportunity to create valuable things. However, it is worth mentioning that, although Populus ulmoides lacks the talent of vegetation, it does not hide from others, but adds a scene to the late spring. Although it is not beautiful, it has made great efforts, and this spirit is commendable.
This is a poem that depicts the scenery in late spring. At first glance, it's just a common scene of hundreds of flowers competing for beauty, but it's not difficult to find out further that the poem is ingenious and unique. Poets don't write about flowers falling and dying in late spring, but they write about the moving scene of plants and trees staying in spring and showing colorful colors: flowers and trees find out that spring will return, and they each exert their best, and they are colorful and flowery. Even the poplar flowers and elm pods, which were originally lacking in color and fragrance, are not to be outdone, but turn into snowflakes dancing with the wind and join the ranks of staying in spring. The poems are nuanced, revealing secrets that have not been obtained by predecessors, opposing the general poet's feeling of being late in late spring, imitating the splendid situation of flowers and plants, and showing the elegant demeanor in late spring. A few strokes will give people an eyeful of scenery and a refreshing impression.
It is quite interesting to say that this poem has been renovated in an ordinary way, and it also lies in the wonderful use of personification in the poem, which combines people with flowers. Vegetation is a heartless thing,