Monday, June 22, 2020

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

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