司空圖二十四詩品《流動》 / Sikong Tu's Twenty-Four Classes of Poetry, 24 - "Fluidity"

And here we are, folks: we've arrived at the final poem in Sikong Tu's Twenty-Four Classes of Poetry. It should come as no surprise that it resembles its fellows in many ways; it also seems to be the most straightforwardly Daoist of the bunch, albeit with a pessimistic undertone that makes you wonder if Sikong Tu might have had his fill of philosophizing and was growing skeptical. (Or maybe I'm projecting; who knows.)

Whatever the case, I'm fairly happy with my translation. There are some lines I particularly like—the last one of the first stanza, the whole third stanza—and I think I did a decent job of capturing Sikong Tu's mood. It's been a while since I worked on it, so I don't have any notes on the language itself to add. I can say that along with my friend and colleague Ana Katryna Cabrini (who turned me onto Sikong Tu in the first place) I'll be writing a little somethin' somethin' about this poem in Portuguese, so when/if that makes its appearance, I'll be sure to let y'all know.

Thanks for reading, and enjoy the poem. You may dig listening to Hiiragi Fukuda's Seacide while you read, but probably not. It's cool; I appreciate you anyway, especially if you've followed along with the Sikong Tu project all these months.

微臣
史大偉

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流動
司空圖

若納水輨

如轉丸珠

夫豈可道

假體如愚

荒荒坤軸

悠悠天樞

載要其端

載同其符

超超神明

返返冥無

來往千載

是之謂乎

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"Fluidity"
Sikong Tu

Like water passing through a mill-wheel,

like a pearl rolling around—

can a man really attain the Dao?

Pretending it has a form is for fools.

The earth's axis stretches on and on,

heaven's pivot dim and distant—

strive to get to the heart of things,

fit together with it.

Go beyond the spiritual,

return to the empty dark;

a thousandfold comings and goings—

that is the meaning of this.