白居易诗

Poems of Bai Juyi


Index

买花

Buying Flowers


帝城春欲暮
喧喧车马度
共道牡丹时
相隋买花去

Evening in the capital, wishing for spring
Amid the racket of horses and carts.
Along the broad avenue, peonies almost blooming
As I follow along, going to buy flowers.

贵贱无常价
酬直看花数
灼灼百朵红
戋戋五束素

Expensive or cheap, a flower's price -- impermanent.
It's worthwhile just to stand and look:
One hundred bright red blossoms shining
Or five plain blossoms simply bound in silk.

上张幄幕庇
旁织巴篱护
水酒复泥封
移来色如故

Spread out beneath the awnings of pavillions
Or woven, as if clinging, to a trellis fence,
Even placed like cheap wine in old clay jars,
All are full of color, as if fresh-picked.

家家习为俗
人人迷不悟
有一田舍翁
偶来买花处

Everyone is drawn to what is common.
Everyone seems bewildered, half-awake.
But here's this one old countryman where,
By chance, I come upon his stall.

低头独长叹
此叹无人喻
一丛深色花
十户中人赋

He bows his head to me and I must sigh,
A long, deep sigh which no-one could explain.
His one array of deeply colored blossoms
Is worth ten households' of my ordinary poems.

-- 白居易


废话

So here is one more poem, like A Serious Entreaty, from Bai Juyi's Songs of Qin, written around 809 and part of his polite criticism of his betters.

You can see why I think Bai Juyi is "translating" Qin poems to suit his purposes if you look at the structure of this poem. Like Bai Juyi's confessedly original poems, this one goes a little over half-way in a straight-forward, almost bland, poetic way. And then Bai Juyi and his viewpoint on the world fall into the poem. First we have

Everyone is drawn to what is common.
Everyone seems bewildered, half-awake.
falling out of the sky to bring our vision in line with Bai Juyi's. And then we have "one old countryman," who like the old man in 采地黄者 - The Foxglove Gatherer, represents a sincere and humble ideal of Man for the poet. And finally we have another example of Bai Juyi judging his poetry as less valuable than real goodness in the world. I can see his point. But after 1300 years, his poetry lingers on in its own real goodness, no less good than the fresh flowers of every early spring.

As a final note, let's remember that this is not a poem about flowers.


Index