Wen Xuan or Selections of Refined Literature, Volume I: Rhapsodies on Metropolises and Capitals

by David R. Knechtges, Tong Xiao

Overview

A text of central importance to the Chinese literary tradition, the Wen xuan was compiled by Xiao Tong (501-531) and is the oldest surviving anthology of Chinese literature arranged by genre. This volume, the first of a planned eight-volume translation of the entire work, contains thoroughly annotated translations of the first section of the Wen xuan, the rhapsodies on the metropolises and capitals."

Originally published in 1983.

The Princeton Legacy Library uses the latest print-on-demand technology to again make available previously out-of-print books from the distinguished backlist of Princeton University Press. These editions preserve the original texts of these important books while presenting them in durable paperback and hardcover editions. The goal of the Princeton Legacy Library is to vastly increase access to the rich scholarly heritage found in the thousands of books published by Princeton University Press since its founding in 1905.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780691613871
Publisher:	Princeton University Press
Publication date:	07/14/2014
Series:	Princeton Library of Asian Translations , #630
Pages:	644
Product dimensions:	6.10(w) x 9.10(h) x 1.20(d)

Read an Excerpt

Wen Xuan or Selections of Refined Literature Volume Three

Rhapsodies on Natural Phenomena, Birds and Animals, Aspirations and Feelings, Sorrowful Laments, Literature, Music, and Passions

---

By Xiao Tong, David R. Knechtges

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS

Copyright © 1996 Princeton University Press
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-691-05346-2

---

CHAPTER 1

13 RHAPSODY G

NATURAL PHENOMENA

Rhapsody on the Wind

SONG YU

I

King Xiang of Chu was amusing himself at the palace of Magnolia Terrace, with Song Yu and Jing Cuo attending him. A breeze suddenly blew in upon them, and the king opened his collar and faced the wind, saying, "How pleasant this wind! Do We not share it with the common people?"

Song Yu replied, "This is a wind for Your Majesty alone. How could the common people share it?" The king said, "The wind, being the breath of Heaven and Earth, blows vast and wide, and does not choose between noble or mean, high or low. But now you claim that this is Our wind alone. Can there be an explanation for this?"

Song Yu replied, "I have heard from my teacher that a gnarled and contorted tree attracts nesting birds, and that holes and crevices attract the wind. But the breath of the wind differs depending upon the nature of the places where things lodge."

The king said, "Where is the wind first born?"
Song Yu replied:

II

"The wind is born from the earth,
Rises from the tips of green duckweed,
Graduailly advances into glen and vale,
Rages at the mouths of earthen sacks,
Follows the bends of great mountains,
Dances beneath pine and cypress.
Swiftly soaring, blasting and blustering,
Fiercely it flies, swift and angry,
Rumbling and roaring with the sound of thunder.
Tortuously twisting, in chaotic confusion,
It overturns rocks, fells trees,
Strikes down forests and thickets.

III

"Then, when its power is abating,
It scatters and spreads, spreads and scatters,
Charging into crevices, shaking door bolts.
All that it brushes is bright and shiny, dazzling fresh
As it disperses and turns away.

IV

"Thus, this cool and refreshing male wind
Blows and swells upward and downward,
Scales and crosses high walls,
Enters the innermost palace.
Buffeting flowers and leaves, it scatters their fragrance.
Lingering amongst cinnamon and pepper trees,
Soaring above coursing waters,
It strikes the great blooms of the lotus.
It plunders basil herbs,
Disperses wild ginger,
Levels peonies,
Splits budding willows.
It whirls into caves, assails hills,
Desolating the many fragrances.
Then, it rambles in the inner courtyard,
Northward ascends the jade hall,
Climbs gauzy curtains,
Passes into the inner chamber,
And at that time it becomes Your Majesty's wind.

V

"Thus, when this wind strikes a man:
Its manner is simply so biting cold he shivers and shakes,
Yet it is so refreshingly cool he heaves a sigh of relief.
It is so clean and pure, fresh and cool,
It cures illness, dispels hangovers,
Soothes the body, comforts men.
This is what is called Your Majesty's male wind."

VI

The king said, "Excellent indeed your exposition of the matter! Now
may I hear about the wind of the common people?"

Song Yu replied:
"The wind of the common people
Gustily rises from a remote lane
Scooping out grime, raising dust.
Sullen and sad, fretting and fuming,
It dashes through holes, invades doors,
Stirring up sand piles,
Blowing dead embers,
Throwing up filth and muck,
Blowing rotten residue.
In oblique attack, it enters jar-windows,
Reaching into cottage rooms.

VII

"Thus, when this wind strikes a man
Its manner makes him feel dizzy and dazed, downcast and dejected.
It drives heat upon him, inflicts him with dampness,
So that he becomes sad and sorrowful in his heart,
And he takes ill and develops fever.
Where it strikes his lips, sores break out,
Where it touches his eyes, they become red and swollen.
He gnashes his teeth, gasping and groaning,
Half-dead, half-alive.
This is what is called the female wind of the common people."

Rhapsody on Autumn Inspirations

PAN ANREM

In the fourteenth year of Jin, when my years reached thirty-two, gray began to appear in my hair. By virtue of my position as assistant to the Grand Commandant, and concurrent post of Tiger-swift Commander of Palace Gentleman, I was assigned to the bureau of the detached cavalry. The towering chambers reach so far into the clouds that sunlight rarely shines there. Officials wearing caps with cicada ornaments and garbed in white and figured silks roam and rest here. I am a man from the countryside, and when I take my rest, I have nothing more than a thatched hut and dense grove, and for conversation, my only guests are farmers and old peasants. I have been temporarily appointed by default and have been unduly assigned a court rank. Rising early and going late to bed, I have no time to get real rest. I am like a fish in a pond ora caged bird, who long for rivers and lakes, mountains and meres. Thereupon, wetting a brush and with paper in hand, I heave a sigh and compose a rhapsody. The season is autumn, and thus I name the piece "Autumn Inspirations." The words of the rhapsody read:

I

The four seasons hasten on in constant alternation;
The myriad things chaotically swirl and advance.
Observing the seasonal growth of flowers and plants,
I perceive that on which splendor and decay rest.
I am struck by the withering of winter and the display of spring;
I am moved by the luxuriance of summer and the wilting of autumn.
Although such splendor and decay are minor matters,
They, too, rouse the human feelings of delight and disgust.

II

Excellent indeed are the words of Song Yu, who said:
"Mournful is the air that is autumn's!
In the soughing wind, leaves flutter and fall, turn and decay.
All is gloomy and sad, like traveling afar,
Climbing a hill, looking down on a stream, sending someone off on a
homeward journey."

III

When sending a person off, one harbors affection for his bosom friend;
When traveling afar, one feels a wayfarer's torment.
When looking down on a stream, moved by its flow, one laments its
passing away;
When climbing a hill, one longs for the distant, grieves for the near.
These four sorrows pain the heart;
Yet one alone is hard enough to bear.
Alas that autumn days are so sad!
Truly there is no grief they do not bring!
In the wilds there is a homing swallow;
Over the wetlands there is a hovering hawk.
Drifting miasmas rise at dawn;
Withered leaves fall at dusk.

IV

Then do I discard my light fan,
Remove my fine grass-cloth garb,
Spread a rush mat,
Don a lined coat.
Courtyard trees are bare—the leaves have shed and scattered;
A strong wind blows fiercely against the curtains.
Cicadas chirp softly, coldly call;
Wild geese, gliding smoothly, fly south.
The sky, bright and clear, rises ever higher;
35 The sun, its brightness dimming, gradually fades away.

V

In the fading brightness, how short the days!
One feels the chilly nights becoming longer.
The moon glimmers, holding back its light;
The dew, cold and pure, begins to freeze.
Fireflies glow by steps and doorways;
Crickets chirp by verandas and screens.
I hear the morning call of a stray swan,
Gaze at the lingering light of the receding Fire Star.
At night I am restless and do not sleep;
Alone, I toss and turn in my grand office chamber.
Aware that the year soon will end,
I sigh and bow my head in self-reflection.
White temple-hair, in long fringes, supports my cap;
White locks, thin and bare, fall loosely over my collar.
Admiringly I gaze on the traces of the great men:
They have ascended to Cloud-Han, where they roam and gallop.
Merry and joyful, they climb a spring terrace,
Their gold and sable caps resplendent and bright.
If pursuing and rejecting follow divergent roads,
How can one distinguish activity from repose?

VI

I have heard of the refined manner of the Supreme Man,
Who equates Heaven and Earth to a single meaning.
Others know security, but forget danger;
Thus, they "leave life and enter death."
In walking, one plants his toes in a space no larger than his feet;
By hardly stepping at all, he obtains a secure foothold.
But if one digs around his feet down to the Yellow Springs,
Even a monkey or gibbon will not walk there.
The tortoise had his bones sacrificed in the ancestral shrine,
But wished instead to return to the green waters.

VII

For now, I shall straighten my lapel and return home;
Soon will I discard official ribbons and soar on high.
I shall plow the rich soil of the eastern paddy field,
And contribute my levy of surplus millet.
Where a spring bubbles and burbles among the rocks,
And chrysanthemums waft their fragrance over the river bank,
I shall bathe in the rushing torrent of the autumn flood,
Play with the swimming hemiculter darting to and fro.
I roam at will by the banks of hills and streams;
Free and unfettered, I abide in the human world.
Relaxed and carefree
I shall end my days.

Rhapsody on Snow

XIE HUILIAN

I

The year was coming to an end,
The day was already dark,
Cold winds blew hard,
Sad clouds thickly gathered.
The king of Liang, cheerless,
Went roaming in Hare Garden.

He set out fine wine
And called over guests and friends.
He summoned Scholar Zou,
Invited Elder Mei.
Xiangru arrived last,
But sat to the right of the other guests.

Soon Ught sleet began to fall,
Followed by thick snow.

The king then sang "North Wind" from the "Wei Songs,"
And chanted "South Mountain" from the Zhou "Elegantiae."
He gave bamboo strips to grandee Sima and said:
"Draw forth your innermost thoughts,
Give free rein to lovely expressions,
Describe its features, portray it in fitting detail,
And rhapsodize on it for me."

II

Thereupon, Xiangru left his mat, stood up, stepped back a bit, and bowed, saying:

"I have heard that Snow Palace was built in an eastern state;
And snowy mountains rise on high in the Western Regions.
Chang of Qi chanted of it in "Now, we return";
Man of the Ji sang of it in "Yellow Bamboo."
The "Airs of Cao" compared its color to linen robes;
In a Chu song it was paired with "Hidden Boneset."
If a full foot deep, it reveals a propitious omen for bountiful harvest;
But if more than ten feet, it manifests the calamity of the yin power.
The significance of snow with respect to the seasons is far-reaching
indeed!
Please allow me to speak of its beginnings:

III

"Now, as the time of darkness reaches its peak,
And harsh air is ascendant,
Scorching Creek dries up,
Scalding Vale freezes,
Fire wells are extinguished,
Hot springs ice over,
Frothing pools no longer bubble,
Fiery winds do not rise.
On north-facing doors, panels are plastered;
In the land of the naked, men drape themselves in silks.

IV

"And then, clouds rise on river and sea;
Sand flies on northern deserts.
Unbroken vapors, piled up haze,
Shroud the sun, veil the clouds.
First sleet comes pattering down;
Then snow, copiously clustered, fails harder and harder.

V

"Such is its appearance:
Scattering and spreading, mingling and merging,
It swells up, then thins out,
Dark and dense, lightly drifting,
Thickly massed, high and heavy.
Unremitting, it flies and spatters;
Wavering, pausing, it forms piled drifts.
It begins by edging eaves, blanketing purlins,
Ends by opening blinds, entering cracks.
At first it whirls round stair and veranda;
Last it twists through curtain and mat.
Conforming to the square, it forms a jade tessera;
Meeting the round, it creates a jade disc.
Glance at the lowlands and see a million acres all like albescent silk;
Gaze at the mountains and behold a thousand cliffs all white.

VI

"And then terraces rise like layered jade;
Roads stretch out like interlocking gems.
Courtyards are arrayed with chalcedony stairs;
In forests stand carnelian trees.
The albescent crane is deprived of its luster,
The silver pheasant loses its pristine whiteness,
Silk-sleeved beauties are ashamed of their charms,
Alabaster faces conceal their fairness.

VII

"When its piled whiteness has not yet melted,
And the morning sun shines bright:
It gleams like the Candescent Dragon,
Torch in mouth, illuminating Mount Kun.
Or when flowing droplets form hanging icicles,
Clinging to downspouts, clutching corners:
They are resplendent as if Pingyi
Had split open oysters and set out luminous pearls.
As for its aspect of plenteous profusion, chaotic confusion,
Its form of glistening brightness, glowing purity,
The manner of its whirling dispersal, twirling cumulation,
The wonder of its flying coalescence, gelid brilliance:
Truly it evolves and changes without end;
Alas, how can one understand it fully?

VIII

"If one wishes to extend his pleasure and enjoyment without end,
At night, dark and still, many feelings are roused.
Wind strikes columns and echoes resound;
The moon shines on gauze windows, filling rooms with light.
I pour thick wine from Xiang and Wu,
Don a double cloak of fox and racoon dog,
Face a pair of jungle fowl dancing in the courtyard,
Gaze at a solitary goose flying among the clouds.
Treading the alternating drifts of frost and snow,
I pity the leaves parted from branches.
Letting my thoughts race a thousand leagues distant,
I yearn to take a dear one's hand and return together."

IX

After hearing this, Zou Yang
Was shamed into submission,
Yet wished to compose a lovely song,
And respectfully requested to follow with a humble tune.
Thereupon, he stood up and chanted "Song of Drifting Snow":
The song goes:
"Taking a fair one's hand, open a double drape;
Hugging a silken coverlet, sit on fragrant mats.
Kindle the incense burner, light a glowing candle;
Pour cinnamon wine, sing forth a clear refrain."

X

He then followed with "Song of White Snow":
The song goes:
"The refrain has been sung, wine is set out;
Ruddy faces flush red, thoughts turn to dear ones.
I wish to lower the curtain and bring the pillows near;
I long to undo my girdle, loosen my sash.
I resent that the year so quickly comes to its close,
Lament that for future meetings there is no chance.
Have you seen the white snow on the stairs?
How can it remain dazzling bright in sunny spring?"

XI

When the songs were done, the king then mulled them over, humming and savoring them, clapping and gripping his wrist as he watched. Turning to Mei Sheng, he had him rise and compose a finale. The finale goes:

"Although a white feather is white,
Its essence is lightness.
Although white jade is white,
Its basic nature is hardness.
They cannot compare with this snow,
Which appears and disappears with the seasons.
When dark yin forms, it does not conceal its purity;
When the sun warmly shines, it does not guard its firmness.
How is firmness my true name?
How is purity my true nature?
Resting on clouds, I ascend and descend;
Following the wind, I flutter and fall.
I am endowed form by the things I meet;
I am given shape by the places I land.
My immaculence comes from the things I encounter;
My soiling follows from external stains.
Unfettered, my heart is free and at ease;
Why worry, why fret?"

Rhapsody on the Moon

XIE XIYI

I

The prince of Chen had just begun to mourn the death of Ying and
Liu,
And he spent his days in grief and sorrow.
Green moss grew beneath galleries,
Fragrant dust formed on terraces.
Saddened by this he was sick at heart,
And remained dispirited into the middle of the night.
Then, thoroughwort paths were swept,
Cinnamon park was cleared.
As blaring pipes sounded from cold hills,
He halted his cart on an autumn slope.
Looking down into a plunging chasm, he lamented the distantly
departed;
Climbing a lofty tor, he bemoaned the remoteness.
And then, when the slanting Han was edging left,
And the Boreal Route lodged in the south,
White dew dimmed the sky,
Moonlight flooded the heavens:
He softly intoned the verses of Qi,
Heartily chanted the song of Chen.
Taking out a brush, presenting a tablet,
He commanded Zhongxuan to write a poem.

II

Zhongxuan knelt and declaimed:
"I am an obscure and humble scholar from the eastern border,
And I was raised in hills and copses.
Although ignorant in lore, deficient in learning,
I alone have received my wise lord's favor.
I have heard that the sunken and submerged is the guiding norm,
And the high and brilliant is the ruling constant,
The virtue of the sun is yang,
And the essence of the moon is yin.
The moon seizes the light of Fu from the eastern pool,
Inherits the Ruo tree blossoms in the Western Gloom,
Leads the dark hare to the Lord of Heaven's Platform,
Brings the Albescent Beauty to the Celestial Court.
The waxing and waning crescents warn of deficiency;
The new moon exemplifies modesty.
In accord with the horary signs, it circulates light;
Following the stars, it brings moisture and wind.
It adds splendor to the Chamber of Ministers,
Casts luster upon the Carriage Palace.
It sent down its light, and the house of Wu flourished;
It let fall its shining essence and the course of Han was smooth.

III

"Then, when the air clears over the ground,
And clouds withdraw to the sky's edge,
Dongting begins to ripple,
Trees gently shed their leaves,
Chrysanthemums spread fragrance over mountain peaks,
Geese mournfully call from river shoals:
Slow and steady rises a radiant form,
That casts down a soft and gentle light.
Constellations have their starry profusion dimmed;
The long river sheathes its light.
The yielding earth seems as if frozen by snow;
The rotund sky is like a pellucid pool.
One after another towers glisten white as frost;
All around stairs shine clear as ice.

IV

"Then, when a prince tires of morning pleasures,
He enjoys himself with night feasting.
He cuts short the wondrous dancing,
Abandons his clear-toned bells.
Leaving his candle-lit chamber,
He enters a hall bathed in moonlight.
Fragrant wine is presented,
A melodious zither is played.

V

"When on a cool night one feels lonely and sad,
And the wind blows a melody through bamboo groves:
With no kin or friend for company,
And only wanderers constantly passing by,
He hears a marsh bird's night call,
Listens to a northern pipe's autumnal song.
And then, the notes of the zither mode are chosen,
And the manner of the tones is tender and gentle:
Slow and languid—'Keeping off the Dew';
Sad and mournful—'Sunny Bank.'
The murmuring grove stills its piping;
The wind-swept pond quiets its ripples.
Pent-up feelings, to whom can they be entrusted?
Sing a long plaint to the shining moon.

VI

"A song goes:
'My fair one is far away, all news is cut off;
Although a thousand leagues apart, we share the same moon.
I sigh into the wind—how can I stop?
River and road are long and cannot be traversed.'

VII

"Song and music have yet to end,
And the fading moon is about to set.
Everyone in the hall changes expression,
All are confused and confounded as if lost.
They then sing another song:
'The moon has set, the dew is nearly dry;
The year soon shall end, I have no one with whom to return.
This is a propitious time to go home,
For the frost may soon soak your clothes!'"

VIII

The prince of Chen said, "Excellent!"
He then commanded attendants
To offer a toast, present jade discs.
"I admire your precious verses,
And I shall never weary of reciting them."

(Continues...)

---

Excerpted from Wen Xuan or Selections of Refined Literature Volume Three by Xiao Tong, David R. Knechtges. Copyright © 1996 Princeton University Press. Excerpted by permission of PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---

Table of Contents

• FrontMatter, pg. i
• Contents, pg. vii
• Foreword, pg. ix
• Note on the Translation, pg. xiii
• Introduction, pg. 1
• Xiao Tong's Life and Compilation of the Wen xuan, pg. 4
• The Literary Milieu of the Liang and Xiao Tong's View of Literature, pg. 11
• Content of the Wen xuan, pg. 21
• Wen xuan Scholarship and Editions, pg. 52
• CROWN PRINCE ZHAO MING OF LIANG, pg. 73
• TWO CAPITALS RHAPSODY, pg. 93
• PREFACE, pg. 93
• WESTERN METROPOLIS RHAPSODY, pg. 181
• EASTERN METROPOLIS RHAPSODY, pg. 243
• SOUTHERN CAPITAL RHAPSODY, pg. 311
• WU CAPITAL RHAPSODY, pg. 373
• WEI CAPITAL RHAPSODY, pg. 429
• Biographical Sketches, pg. 479
• Notes, pg. 485
• Bibliography, pg. 531
• Index, pg. 569