Ancient things today hard to sell./These two masters were a pair of phoenixes,/The most resplendent and charming of the hundred birds. Thanks, HK Jade market
Whew! This is just one poem from the paper I'm finishing up. What work this is! The author takes this poem as one example among many of a characteristic style among many. The whole paper is basically just a small anthology of poems with tags. The author briefly explains why we tag some poems "ancient and hard," and others "balanced and mild," and these explanations are useful, but...it's easy to lose sight of what poetry is all about when your main objective is to tag it. Better sometimes to let it speak for itself.
This poem is from 1044, and memorializes two older poet friends who have been exiled. The poet here has long been an admirer of his friends; it has suited his own identity well to consider them his superior in the world of art, though he has always been more successful in his official career.
"Walking at Night near Gorge with a Stream, to Zimei and Shengyu" 水谷夜行寄子美圣俞
The cold rooster cries in the wild woods,
Over the mountain slope, the moon hangs down.
I put on my clothes and rise to observe the night,
I hitched up my horse and thought to walk right on.
When I came, it was the first clouds of spring,
Now the cold season had arrived.
The milky way leaked into the vast sky,
Falling powerfully out of the nine continents.
A light breeze chilled my lapel,
Warm air cleared me after sleep.
I cherish the memory of my friends in the capital,
With their literature and ale, and invites to high banquets,
Among them were Su and Mei,
Both of them so respected and loved,
With compositions rich in breadth and depth,
And matched, though competing, reputations.
Zimei’s qi was especially heroic,
A thousand pipes that sang with a single will,
Sometimes it was eccentric, even crazy:
Drunken ink that splattered all over.
He was like the thousand-league horse:
Once started it couldn’t be killed,
But surged forward with the ultimate gems,
Each one as good as the last.
Old man Mei dealt in precision,
With boulders worn away by rapids.
For thirty years made he poems,
Look at me, such a one of the younger generation,
His rhetoric was much more clear and new,
Though his mind was older.
He was like a beautiful seductress,
Now aged, but with her own special charms.
Recent poems are so ancient and hard:
One chews only to find them bitter and hard to swallow.
At first it is like eating olives,
For a long time flavor lingers, even increases.
Su’s heroism conquers with its qi,
All over the world the rest of us are frightened,
Mei was as unique as I’ve ever known,
Ancient things today hard to sell.
These two masters were a pair of phoenixes,
The most resplendent and charming of the hundred birds.
Soaring through the cloudy mists,
Their wings were damaged at once,
How can we follow after them,
To the end, cries like the sound of a bell.
Why? I ask, Should remember them so bitterly,
To them we raise our drinks, and grasp our new crabs.
My translation no doubt contains errors, but I am after all a beginner, and this is done with a deadline in mind! Chinese text:
寒鸡号荒林，山壁月倒挂，批衣起视夜，揽辔念行迈。我来夏云初，
素节今已届，高河泻长空，势落九州外，微风动凉襟，晓气清余睡。
缅怀京师友，文酒邈高会，其间苏与梅，二子可畏爱，篇章富纵横，
声价相磨盖。子美气尤雄，万窍号一噫，有时肆颠狂，醉墨洒滂沛；
譬如千里马，已发不可杀，盈前尽珠玑，一一难柬汰。梅翁事清切，
石齿漱寒濑，作诗三十年，视我犹后辈；文词愈清新，心意虽老大，
譬如妖韶女，老自有余态； 近诗尤古硬，咀嚼苦难嘬，初如食橄榄，
真味久愈在。苏豪以气轹，举世徒惊骇；梅穷独我知，古货今难卖。
二子双凤凰，百鸟之嘉瑞，云烟一翱翔，羽翮一摧铩，安得相从游，
终日鸣哕哕。问胡苦思之，对酒把新蟹。
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