孟郊诗
Poems of Meng Jiao
Index
赠别崔纯亮
A Parting Poem for Cui Chunliang
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食荠肠亦苦 强歌声无欢 出门即有碍 谁谓天地宽 |
Eating water chestnuts til we're sick. Forced singing without the sound of joy. Leaving still has its problems. Who says Heaven and Earth are vast? |
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有碍非遐方 长安大道傍 小人智虑险 平地生太行 |
It's too bad there are no distant places Right here along Chang'an's big streets. I know the worries and the dangers That spring up on mountain ways. |
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镜破不改光 兰死不改香 始知君子心 交久道益彰 |
Broken mirrors don't improve the light. Dead orchids don't improve the smell. I've come to know your mind, after All this journeying so well together. |
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君心与我怀 离别俱回遑 譬如浸蘖泉 流苦已日长 |
For your mind and mine, Parting always slowly comes round again. Like new shoots in a stream, in the Bitter flow of a day already long. |
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忍泣目易衰 忍忧形易伤 项籍岂不壮 贾生岂不良 |
Enduring these tears, my eyes soon ache. Enduring these worries, my health is broken. For my work, who could be stronger than you? For inspiration, who could be better? |
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当其失意时 涕泗各沾裳 古人劝加餐 此餐难自强 |
When I am missing you Tears soak my skirts. Ancients exhort us to have a snack. But this tidbit is no help at all. |
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一饭九祝噎 一嗟十断肠 况是儿女怨 怨气凌彼苍 |
One meal -- nine chokes on happiness. On sigh -- ten times a broken heart. I'm complaining just like children -- My complaint is that you're fading away. |
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彼苍若有知 白日下清霜 今朝始惊叹 碧落空茫茫 |
Your fading away makes it seem as if Daylight were coming down as clear frost. This morning, I gasp in wonder At the empty vastness of the sky. |
-- 孟郊
废话
A parting poem for Meng Jiao's friend. The mirrors and orchids are probably an inside joke. And, yes, the ancients here are urging a snack on the broken-hearted. Whether they actually did this or not is left as an exercise for the reader. But I wouldn't be surprised if somewhere in the ancient texts one finds, "And when heart-broken, treat yourself to a Snickers bar (or the equivalent)." There is a certain wisdom in there.
The fading away, which is actually a combination of "the other person" and "color of nature in the distance" is pretty wonderful, as is daylight coming down as frost.
Someone, sometime, should do a long study, comparing the texts of history to the poems in order to determine just how weepy people were in the Tang. Going by the poems, very weepy. And given the violence of the times, not a weak weepiness at all. More of a "kill you and then sit down on your corpse and cry" weepiness.