"Bitter Wife's Lyrics": The Story Is Not a Story, the Bitter Wife Is Not a Bitter Wife — How Many Can Understand!
2006/10/2 12:05:33
"Bitter Wife's Lyrics"
The story is not a story, the bitter wife is not a bitter wife — how many can understand!
Chán Zhōng Shuō Chán
I
Autumn dew, autumn dew — autumn goes, winter comes, hard to stay.
Stars bright, stars dim, mist congealing — three places, four places, birds calling.
Calling birds, calling birds — idle sorrows, ten thousand kinds, never done.
"Tiao Xiao Ling"
II
Moon before the window — climbing alone to the tip of the willow.
Night silent, wind rising, stirring thoughts — autumn chill, embers dying, about to turn one's gaze.
Outside the door, the sound of a harp.
"Meng Jiangnan"
III
Wind — toying with shadows, parting fragrance, east of the water pavilion.
At leisure among them — dew moistens the paper lotus.
"Shi Liu Zi Ling"
IV
Spring breeze chasing dreams washes the spring city — green dyes the spring river, willows turning blue.
Everywhere spring flowers, everywhere singing. Entering the spring pavilion — in a dream, lingering sunlight, snow clearing after.
"Yi Wang Sun"
V
Fallen petals whispering of the slanting evening — green waves, lingering tenderness, pouring out deep sorrow.
Cloud-tresses — for whom do they open? Three springs, the swallows come.
Sending thoughts along the blue-snow road — shadows in disorder, tracing the former visit.
The heart is lazy, resentment hard to turn — a cold furnace, a jade mirror-stand.
"Pu Sa Man"
VI
Apricot-blushed cheeks yellow — a lonely pillow of resentment — as if to smother rouge into ruin.
Crows escort the sun — eyes ache with grief — dozing in drizzling rain.
Fading green temples — pale rouge — emerging from a bath, a thousand peaks stripped thin.
Flowers weep tears — the zither stand in disarray — seeing spring, unable to bear the sorrow.
"Geng Lou Zi"
VII
Heartbreak at first — boundless resentment — only lamenting the distance from spring.
In the lingering afterglow — evening clouds part — startled suddenly by the swallows' return.
Spring sheds tears — the old tower terrace — rouge and beauty darkly fading.
Still like a dream — dripping on the empty stairs — deep in the night, resentment unsewn.
"Geng Lou Zi"
VIII
Clouds swaying through the sky, frost-shadows in disorder — the night-watch drum, blown apart by wind.
At Ba Bridge, one parting — willows in a thousand threads — dripping green, swaying blue, spring like an emerald curtain hanging.
Passion-drunk, in a secret dream, drifting in scattered petals — a fragrant path, a lone inn, set crosswise.
Dust-waves carefully counted — departing is not yet late — how could she bear: red sorrow, oriole tears, envying her moth-brows?
"Yu Mei Ren"
IX
Languid, lazy — forsaking the spring light, flowers open, one wakes too late.
Petal by petal budding from the branch — all turning into autumn-song laments.
More hateful still: the east wind blows and cannot be severed — dawn rolls up rain-threads to drag and tangle sorrow.
The departing dream never once entered the sky — tree by tree, mountain by mountain, seen.
"Gan Cao Zi"
X
Carefully touching up the fading makeup, not for spring — the early sun, languid and lazy, seems to tease.
Ten thousand crimson peach trees bloom again today — at the ferry of parting.
Idly tearing the east wind, shred by shred — half scattered into the flowing water, half scattered into the clouds.
Tear-filled eyes — how to bear seeing once more — traces of a former time.
"Tan Po Huan Xi Sha"
XI
Standing and leaning by Blue Bridge — a lake full of longing-water — waves piled in layered ripples.
Distant mountains clustered with clouds — spring sunlight, languid and scattered, flushed like wine.
Misty red, shadow-green — a charming pair — swallows chattering, orioles singing.
Morning and evening, all spent — chanting about flowers, laughing at willows — jade garments, jeweled eyes, shuttling through.
Ten years of dazed and aching love-madness — given over to cold years, frigid seasons — not for an excess of feeling.
In the mortal world, who thinks of me? — Drawing tears into a river.
Shooting stars trailing the moon — resentment without end — vainly casting the flying shuttle.
Cold rain splashing — fierce wind rising suddenly — in this dusty world, ants scattering, tadpoles startled.
"Han Gong Chun"
XII
Sorrow tangled in silk threads — treasuring the parting hour.
Wild wind strips bare a hundred flower-branches — late at night, brows dark and low.
Again the crow cries beneath the moon — dim shapes skimming the shore in flight.
Plum Brook homeland, a delicate dream — only, the person has not returned.
"Hu Die Er"
(Fifty lyrics in total, forming one grand narrative. To understand them, please read from the first. Too long to post at once — divided into two parts.)
Replies
Chán Zhōng Shuō Chán 2006/10/7 11:52:20
[Anonymous] Ai Fu
2006-10-07 10:54:46
Cobbled together from borrowed bits stolen from all directions, entirely without heart or bone, every line mediocre, utterly lacking in mental normalcy, as if writing stories from a thousand years ago!!
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Are you stupid?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! These are clearly about the present! Not understanding isn't your fault — not understanding and still talking, that's your fault!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Chán Zhōng Shuō Chán 2006/10/7 12:06:49
The poster is ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't like it?????????? I'm going to ravage her!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Chán Zhōng Shuō Chán 2006/10/8 22:03:15
[Anonymous] forcn343
2006-10-08 21:30:32
Is this excerpted from Qing-dynasty ci, or original? If original, the author's skill...
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All articles on this blog are original. This is stated in the front-page announcement!
Chán Zhōng Shuō Chán 2006/10/2 12:40:18
Originally posted in two parts. This time combined into one — take the holiday to read it slowly.