司空圖二十四詩品《精神》 / Sikong Tu's Twenty-Four Classes of Poetry, 13 - "Spiritual Essence"

Poem #13's title, 精神 jingshen, means spirit, consciousness, or thought in modern Chinese. Sikong Tu appears to be using it more along those lines as well, hence my translation. But in reading about Daoist practices like 內丹 neidan, or internal alchemy, you come across a lot of references to 精 jing and 神 shen, along with the associated concept of 氣 qi, which I talked a little bit about in my last post. Roughly speaking, jing is one's physical essence, qi the energy or life force, and shen the spirit or higher self. (The Wikipedia page on the Three Treasures gives you an idea of how these ideas are used in a Daoist context.) My favorite meaning of 精 jing, however, has to be "mythical goblin spirit."

Enjoy, folks.

微臣

史大偉

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精神

司空圖

欲返不盡

相期與來

明漪絕底

奇花初胎

青春鸚鵡

楊柳樓臺
碧山人來

清酒深杯

生氣遠出

不著死灰

妙造自然

伊誰與裁

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"Spiritual Essence"

Sikong Tu

Were the Endless to

join with us at some point—

bright ripples, on and on

rare flowers at first bloom

Spring-green parrots

willows, pavilions, terraces—

people come from the blue-green hills

clear wine in overflowing cups

The breath of life reaches out further,

no sign of death's ashen grey

the magnificent fabric of the in-and-of-itself—

ah, who could make it conform to a pattern?

司空圖二十四詩品《豪放》 / Sikong Tu'sTwenty-Four Classes of Poetry, 12 - "Bold and Unrestrained"

豪放 "Bold and Unrestrained" marks the halfway point of Sikong Tu's Twenty-Four Classes of Poetry. I think the standout feature of this poem is that it has more Chinese words that I left in the original than any poem thus far, though I'd be reluctant to make much out of that, save maybe in the instance of 氣 qi.

The first such word is 氣 qi, which pretty much everyone's heard of in one context or another. It can mean breath, life force, vital energy, the mystical shit that infuses everything, the thing you're supposed to load your punches with in martial arts class; it's pretty flexible. I've translated it in various ways before and since, but left it as is here because the construction of the line intrigued me. When texts refer to returning to the Dao, it's usually an end, not the means (and, of course, it's not a linear, static progression, but an ever-evolving process, like the interaction of 陰 yin and 陽 yang), and various qi-related practices are among the tools used to achieve that end, or rather help one along the path. Sikong Tu's reversal is interesting, because he's saying to seek the Dao in order to reach qi; what he means is cryptic, but my initial interpretation is that the reader—perhaps like the poet himself—might gain intellectual knowledge of the Dao first, say by talking to someone or reading the 道德經 Daodejing, and then seek out expressions and practices of Daoism in order to gain a deeper, experiential understanding. As a Westerner who read about Daoism long before practicing it in any way, this resonates pretty strongly.

I rendered 狂 as "wildly," but I think the poet is using it as shorthand for spontaneity or 無爲 wu-wei, "acting without acting."

The 鳳凰 fenghuang is a mythical bird that makes frequent appearances in Chinese art; the link in this sentence shows one on the corner of a temple roof. It's often translated as "phoenix," but it's not the same. 扶桑 Fusang is a mythical island east of China, said to be where the sun rises; therefore it's no surprise that it is sometimes associated with 日本 Japan. The turtles Sikong Tu uses to draw his chariot are "mythological sea turtles," not, apparently, the giant turtles that support countless Chinese stelae upon their backs.

As a parting remark, I like that admiring flowers is presented as a universal right, and that in exercising it, you're partaking of the totality of existence. Sikong Tu is completely right about this.

Stay safe, wear your mask, and enjoy the poem, y'all.


微臣
史大偉

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豪放

司空圖

觀花匪禁

吞吐大荒

由道反氣

處得以狂

天風浪浪

海山蒼蒼
真力彌滿

萬象在旁

前招三辰

後引鳳凰

曉策六鰲

濯足扶桑

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"Bold and Unreserved"

Sikong Tu

Admiring flowers is open to everyone—

breathe in vastness, breathe it out

the Dao leads back to the qi

give up seeking, act wildly

Heaven's wind rushing like a river

seas and mountains grey-green

true strength is abundant

in the myriad things all around

Before me, the beckoning sun, moon, stars

behind, the fenghuang bird leads the sun

at dawn, I whip forward six legendary turtles—

off to bathe my feet in Fusang

司空圖二十四詩品《含蓄》 / Sikong Tu's Twenty-Four Classes of Poetry, 11 - "Reservation"

Almost halfway through the Twenty-Four Classes of Poetry. I've got all the poems translated, but I'm taking my time posting them. You'd think that since I have nothing better to do, and I'm more or less housebound during the pandemic (which way too fuckin' many of my neighbors and countrymen seem to think isn't worth worrying about), I'd be more productive, but nope.

Anyway, I don't have much to say about this poem. Once more Sikong Tu advocates 無爲 wuwei, "doing not-doing," and not letting excess (or any) words get in the way of understanding. Sounds good to me.

Later, dudes.

微臣

史大偉

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含蓄

司空圖

不著一字

盡得風流

語不涉己

若不堪憂

是有真宰

與之沈浮
如綠滿酒

花時反秋

悠悠空塵

忽忽海漚

淺深聚散

萬取一收

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"Reservation"

Sikong Tu

Without writing a single word,

a thorough grasp of effortless style;

speaking without involving oneself

is like being indifferent to worry

This is the heart of true mastery;

with it, one sinks and floats

As the strainer overflows with wine,

the season of flowers reverts to autumn

The sky slowly grows dim with dust,

bubbles form suddenly in the sea;

shallow and deep, gathering and dispersing

seeking the myriad, grasping only one

司空圖二十四詩品《自然》 / Sikong Tu's Twenty-Four Classes of Poetry, 10 - "The Self-Determined"

The tenth poem of Sikong Tu's Twenty-Four Classes of Poetry is titled 自然, which often gets translated as "nature." While that's a generally useful translation, there's more to it than that. 自 is a reflexive, and 然 can mean "thusly" or "in this way," or, as Kroll puts it in his dictionary, "to be like something is expected to be," so you can read 自然 as "that which is what it is in and of itself." Since that's a decidedly inelegant phrase, I've gone with "self-determined."

This poem reads as very Daoist, or very Chan Buddhist, though there aren't any overt symbols of either tradition present (unless you count the hermit, but given the ubiquity of hermits in Chinese poetry, this one could be a Daoist or a Buddhist). While this ambiguity—or maybe syncretism is a more useful way of thinking about it—isn't particular to Sikong Tu, I've found that it runs through a lot of these poems, reflecting the poet's engagement with both schools, which in turn reflects the depth of Daoism and Chan Buddhism's influence on Chinese poetics and aesthetics. David Hinton talks about this at length in his book Awakened Cosmos: The Mind of Chinese Poetry. Hinton deals specifically with 杜甫 Du Fu's work, but you can extrapolate a lot of his ideas to other poets.

著手成春 is a neat phrase that I translated pretty much literally, but since it's still a little obtuse, it's meant to imply that once you get going, everything will be all right. I don't necessarily share that optimism (though in the context of this poem, I certainly do), but I can't argue with the necessity of actually getting around to doing something. 

See y'all soon. Enjoy the poem!

微臣

史大偉

-----

自然

俯拾即是

不取諸鄰

俱道適往

著手成春

如逢花開

如瞻歲新
真與不奪

強得易貧

幽人空山

過雨采萍

薄言情悟

悠悠天鈞

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"The Self-Determined"

Sikong Tu

Look down and pick up what's there

don't go looking all around for it

all paths lead to it

set out, and it's spring before you know it

Like coming across flowers in bloom

or seeing the arrival of the new year

it can't be compelled

if taken by force, it is worthless

The hermit in the empty hills

collecting duckweed in the rain

fewer words, genuine realization

Heaven shapes things in its own time

司空圖二十四詩品《綺麗》 / Sikong Tu's Twenty-Four Classes of Poetry, 9 - "Rare Beauty"

Here is "綺麗"/"Rare Beauty" by Sikong Tu, poem #9 of 24. At some point I'll actually write something about how each poem fits into what I think Sikong Tu is trying to do, but that'll require marshalling more mental resources than I have at the moment.

 A quick note about the 琴 qin, or 古琴 guqin: it sometimes gets called a zither, and while it's in the same category, not calling it by its actual name is like replacing "harpsichord" with "piano" because they're similar. 

The red apricots in the second stanza may or may not be a nod to the idiom 紅杏出牆 "the red apricot leans over the garden wall," which is a poetic way of describing a wife with a secret lover. I can see Sikong Tu going either way here. That second stanza as a whole is really gorgeous, I think.

Enjoy.

微臣
史大偉

-----
 
綺麗

司空圖

神存富貴

始輕黃金

濃盡必枯

淡者屢深

霧余水畔

紅杏在林
月明華屋

畫橋碧陰

金尊酒滿

伴客彈琴

取之自足

良殫美襟

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"Rare Beauty"

Sikong Tu

Those rich and noble in spirit

from the outset think little of gold;

intensity surely withers away in the end,

simple things often take on deeper meaning

Fog lingering on the riverbank

red apricots in the grove

moonlight on a stately house

a bridge outlined in blue shadow

A golden vessel brimming with wine,

a companionable guest playing the qin;

seek your contentment in these things

and surely your heart will be full

司空圖二十四詩品《勁健》 / Sikong Tu's Twenty-Four Classes of Poetry, 8 - "Potency"

Poem #8 of the Twenty-Four Classes of Poetry. I feel my skills as a translator fall particularly short here. There are a number of concepts (e.g., 真, 素, 神) throughout these poems that I render in fairly traditional ways, but in doing so I also fall prey to the weaknesses of those interpretations. Mind you, I don't have any fresh insight into these concepts or their translations; I'm merely remarking on the sort of redundant effect that comes from limited English expressions of Chinese ideas. Someone out there has undoubtedly done a better job than me.

微臣

史大偉

勁健

司空圖

行神如空

行氣如虹

巫峽千尋

走雲連風

飲真茹強

蓄素守中
喻彼行健

是謂存雄

天地與立

神化攸同

期之以實

禦之以終

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"Potency"

Sikong Tu

Spirit like the empty sky

life force like a rainbow—

amidst the towering mountains of Wu Gorge

scudding clouds run on the wind

Drinking of the Real and eating of the strong

gathering up the unblemished, storing it within

embodying this practice of building strength—

this is called a steadfast existence

Stand as one with heaven and earth

render the spirit harmonious—

set yourself to this fully

see it through until the end

司空圖二十四詩品《洗煉》 / Sikong Tu's Twenty-Four Classes of Poetry, 7 - "Washed and Purified"

Poem #7 from 二十四詩品. Not a whole lot to say about it, other than that I like the moon imagery, which in the first case is Daoist in its similarity to 列子 Liezi's riding the wind, and Buddhist in the second, where past lives are as transient as the moon. Sikong Tu was known to be influenced by both schools of thought.

Enjoy, dear reader.

微臣

史大偉

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洗煉

司空圖

如礦出金

如鉛出銀

超心煉冶

絕愛緇磷

空潭瀉春

古鏡照神

體素儲潔

乘月返真

載瞻星辰

載歌幽人

流水今日

明月前身

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"Washed and Purified"

Sikong Tu

Like gold comes from ore

Like silver comes from lead

overcome the mind, purify and smelt it

renounce attachment to light and dark

Water flows from deep pools in spring

the ancient mirror reflects the spirit

unblemished form conserves its purity

ride the moonlight to return to the Real

Set your gaze on the stars

turn your ear to the hermit's song

today is like flowing water;

the bright moon, our former lives.