Regulated Verse: Capital's Splendor

2007/9/15 11:55:20

Last night on the way back, "Just returned from one of Beijing's famous sharp tongues" gave the Beijing circle a good thrashing — this has absolutely nothing to do with Xiao Er. Without Xiao Er, those who need thrashing would still need thrashing. By now, this rot has metastasized everywhere. Disgraceful stunts like "The Three Highs of the Overseas Chinese" merely prove that in Beijing, culture has been utterly whored out.

Whored by politics, whored by economics, whored by tradition, whored by fashion, whored by whoring itself — in Beijing's circles, is there a single non-whore left?

Of course, Beijing is still lovable. But Beijing's charm absolutely does not lie in the nine-layered palace halls historicized by the setting sun, nor the nine-layered palace halls made present by wind and cloud, and still less in those so-called ancient sites and scenic spots or the sentimentally mourned old hutongs and city walls. Beijing's charm lies solely in this: here is the most intense intersection of greed, hatred, delusion, and doubt in the world; here is the most spectacular ready-made ukiyo-e the world has to offer. Those who cannot see through Beijing are mere foolish children of the red dust.

Of course, Beijing also has its snowy wilderness hot springs beneath a sky of stars and moon, letting the universe gleam between ice and fire. Alas, Beijing these days no longer cares to snow in winter.

Capital's Splendor

Chán Zhōng Shuō Chán

The capital's smoke and dust swallow the horse's head
Listening to wind, watching rain — the ancient divine land
Red dust years — fish for a thousand li
White-eyed world — badgers of one hill
To be drunk with bow and goblet — a true delight
Once dreaming of the cup-sea — not an idle gull
Felling mountains, bellowing bellows, plumbing the source to its bottom
My brush trembles with thunder, reining back ten thousand oxen