An Objective Evaluation of the Flaws in Mao Zedong's Poetry (Part One)

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Probably due to time constraints, Mao Zedong never deeply studied the true art of poetry. In a certain sense, Mao Zedong was the type who completed his creative works through sheer force of vital energy. But due to limitations in poetic talent, this vital-energy-driven approach could not reach the heights of Li Bai, Su Shi, and other masters, and this is also a reason why Mao Zedong's shi poems are not as good as his ci lyrics. Because shi poems demand greater originality and stricter tonal patterns, ci lyrics are comparatively easier. Here, let us first provide an objective evaluation of the seven-character regulated verse, the main type among Mao Zedong's shi poems.

First, for seven-character regulated verse, the prosodic requirements are very high. The rhymes generally cannot use ci rhyme tables but must follow Pingshui rhymes exclusively. Mao Zedong did not do very well on this point -- many of his seven-character regulated verses rhyme according to ci conventions. For example, in both "In Reply to Mr. Liu Yazi" and "The People's Liberation Army Captures Nanjing," the character "jiang" from the Sanjiang rhyme group is mixed with the Qiyang rhyme group -- acceptable in ci but absolutely impermissible in seven-character regulated verse. The same error occurs in "The Long March," where the Shisi Han and Shiwu Shan rhyme groups are mixed; and in "Winter Clouds" and "Mourning Comrade Luo Ronghuan," where the Sizhi and Wuwei rhyme groups are mixed. Probably influenced by Mao Zedong, many later writers of classical poetry also began using ci or modern rhymes, but this has nothing to do with authentic seven-character regulated verse. A thousand-plus years of history have proven that Pingshui rhymes do not constrain the thinking of true poets, and the practice of relaxing rhyme requirements has not produced anything remarkable.

Second, the parallelism requirements in seven-character regulated verse are very strict, but Mao Zedong did not execute these very well. For example: "The Five Ridges wind and twist like gentle ripples, / The Wumeng range rolls by like balls of mud. / Gold Sand River's waters beat the warm cloud cliffs, / Dadu Bridge's iron chains stretch out in cold." Both middle couplets can only be said to barely match up. Moreover, the character "qian" (thousand) and "shan" (mountain) appear in both the opening and closing couplets, while "shui" (water) appears in both the opening and neck couplets -- this is completely unacceptable in seven-character regulated verse. If we apply even higher standards, where parallel couplets cannot exhibit "clasped palms" (redundant mirroring), there are even more flawed areas. For example: "Red rain, following the heart, turns into waves; / Green mountains, with purpose, transform into bridges. / The sky links the Five Ridges where silver hoes fall; / The earth shakes the Three Rivers where iron arms swing." Both couplets exhibit clasped palms, with the latter pair being especially egregious.

As for the relationships of introduction, development, turn, and conclusion between couplets, and the alternation of sentence structures -- those requirements are even higher. Mao Zedong did not perform well in these areas. The "turn" in the neck couplet in particular is almost never achieved. As a result, entire poems become little more than lists of couplets. Because Mao Zedong liked to use words with grand imagery, under such imagery ordinary readers tend not to notice these issues. But a truly good seven-character regulated verse is an organic whole, a living thing, with a life-like flow between couplets. Without meeting this requirement, a seven-character regulated verse cannot, at least artistically, be considered good.

In fact, Mao Zedong himself was very aware of the problems with his seven-character regulated verse, and explicitly stated in his letter to Chen Yi that he was not satisfied with any of his seven-character regulated verses, and that his ci lyrics were somewhat better. This is quite objective -- Mao Zedong's ci lyrics are indeed better than his shi poems. A good poem is not achieved by simply piling up grand imagery. The complexity involved is far from simple. Consider that in Chinese history, those who wrote seven-character regulated verse are as numerous as the hairs on a cow, yet truly good seven-character regulated verses probably number less than one percent. Even Du Fu, Li Shangyin, and Huang Tingjian did not produce a good one every time. Below are some seven-character regulated verses for comparison from an artistic standpoint.

Du Fu
Climbing High

The wind is sharp, the sky high, apes cry out in grief; by clear islets and white sand, birds wheel and return.
Boundless falling leaves drift down in rustling waves; the endless Yangtze rolls on and on.
Ten thousand miles from home in sorrowful autumn, forever a traveler; a hundred years of illness, alone I climb this terrace.
In hardship I bitterly hate these frost-thick temples; in dejection I have newly put down the muddy wine cup.

Night in the Tower

At year’s end, yin and yang press the daylight short; at heaven’s edge, frost and snow clear from the cold night sky.
At fifth watch, drums and horns sound tragic and grand; over the Three Gorges, stars and Milky Way tremble in reflection.
In the wild, the crying of a thousand households tells of war; in scattered places, frontier songs rise from fishers and woodcutters.
Crouching Dragon and Galloping Horse end in yellow earth; in human affairs, letters and news are endlessly desolate.

Autumn Meditations

Kunming Pool’s waters still bear the Han dynasty’s achievements; Emperor Wu’s battle banners stand before my eyes.
The Weaver Girl’s loom-threads are empty in the night moon; the stone whale’s scales stir in the autumn wind.
Floating wild-rice drifts with waves as dark clouds sink; cold dew chills lotus pods and drops their crimson powder.
At the frontier passes, only bird paths reach the sky; across rivers and lakes, there is but one old fisherman.

Li Shangyin

The brocade zither, for no reason, has fifty strings; each string and peg stirs thoughts of splendid years.
Zhuang Zhou’s dawn dream is lost among butterflies; King Wang’s spring heart entrusts itself to cuckoos.
On the bright moonlit sea, pearls hold tears; in sun-warmed Lantian, jade gives rise to mist.
This feeling could become a memory to recall, yet even then, at that moment, it was already bewilderment.

Far off, the high city’s hundred-foot tower; beyond willow branches, all islets stretch away.
Jia Yi in youth shed tears in vain; Wang Can, in spring, traveled farther still.
I always long to return to rivers and lakes in white-haired age; I wish to turn heaven and earth and enter a little boat.
Who knew rotten rats could become a delicacy? Suspecting young phoenixes has never ceased.

Sudden Rain at Youmei Hall
Su Shi

Beneath the travelers’ feet, one peal of thunder; thick stubborn clouds fill the hall, impossible to part.
Beyond the sky, black wind blows and the sea stands upright; from eastern Zhejiang, flying rain crosses the river.
Ripples blaze so brightly they bulge the golden cup; a thousand pounding strokes clang like Jie drums urging on.
It rouses the banished immortal, springing wine to the surface; overturned from the merfolk chamber pours out white jade brilliance.

Post-Autumn Meditations No. 13 (one selected from eight)
Qian Qianyi

At earth’s edge, Yashan slants in a single line; from now on, it no longer belongs to China.
No longer a fish-belly place to sacrifice one’s life; much less dragon-saliva drifting on sea rafts?
Gazing to exhaustion at passes and rivers, no Han banners remain; blown to shreds are sun and moon, now Hu reed-pipes.
Chang’e has grown old with nowhere to return; only I, with silver wheel, weep for cassia blossoms.

Autumn Heart
Gong Zizhen

My autumn heart is like the sea, and like the tide again; only this autumn soul cannot be summoned.
Dimly, tulip fragrance clings to my arm; upright, an ancient jade pendant rests at my waist.
In the cold northwest, whose sword is it? In the southeast, flute-notes fill several places.
Stars as large as dippers blaze beyond count; in the long sky, one moon drops to the forest tips.