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Authors: Tony Barnstone
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crooked,
make accommodation their only rule.
Bitterly downcast in my frustration,
in such times I alone suffer hardship and want.
Better to die at once as a wandering exile—
I could never bear to do what those others do!
The swift-winged bird does not travel with the flock;
from times past this has been so.
How can square and round be made to fit together,
how can those who travel different roads plan for one another?
But to humble the heart and curb the will,
suffer censure, put up with shame,
hold fast to purity and whiteness, die for the right—
this the ancient sages heartily extolled.
Fording the Yüan and Hsiang, I journeyed south,
visited Ch'ung-hua and stated my case. 5
“Ch'i's Nine Arguments and Nine Songs—
these the Hsia rulers loved, indulging their desires.
They failed to heed danger, to consider the ages to come,
and so Wu-kuan brought contention to the ruling house. 6
Yi wandered recklessly, too eager for the chase;
he loved to shoot the big foxes.
But wild and disorderly ways seldom end right,
and Han Cho was there to covet his wife. 7
Chiao dressed himself in stout armor,
gave way to desires without restraint,
daily losing himself in sport and pleasure,
until his head came tumbling down. 8
Chieh of the Hsia violated the norms
and thus in the end encountered disaster.
Lord Hsin pickled the flesh of others
and hence the rule of Yin lasted no longer. 9
T'ang and Yü were solemn, pious, respectful;
Chou 10 expounded the Way and committed no error;
they promoted men of worth, employed the able,
followed the chalk and line without partiality.
August Heaven shows no favoritism;
it sees men's virtue and apportions its aid accordingly.
Only the sages and wise men flourish in action;
they indeed are worthy to rule these lands below.
I have viewed what went before, scrutinized what came after,
observing the standards that guide men's conduct.
Who, if not righteous, can ever rule,
who, if not good, can oversee affairs?
I have placed myself in peril, drawn close to death,
but as I look back at my former ways I have no regret.
Trying to shape a peg without thought for the hole it must fit—
even the ancient worthies met misfortune that way.
I sigh in my gloom and melancholy,
sad that the times I live in are so uncongenial.
Picking tender heliotrope, I wipe away the tears,
tears that wet my collar in wave on wave.”
I gathered bindweed, bamboo slips for divination,
commissioned Ling Fen to tell my fortune. 11
“Two beautiful ones are certain to come together,” he said.
“Who is truly fair and yet lacks admirers?
Consider the breadth and vastness of these Nine Provinces— 12
why should you think of those women only?
Dare to range farther afield, put off doubt—
who in search of beauty would pass you by?
What region is without its fragrant grasses?
Why must you pine for your old land?”
But the age is benighted, blinded, and confused;
who claims it can discern the good and bad in me?
People may differ in likes and dislikes,
but these cliquish ones—they're a breed apart!
Each one sports mugwort stuffed in his waist
and avers that rare orchids are not fit to wear.
If they're so blind in their discernment of plants,
how could they gauge the worth of precious gems?
They scoop up rotten earth to fill their scent bags
and claim that the pepper of Shen lacks aroma.
How rich the rare jewels I wear at my sash,
but the crowd conspires to darken and conceal them.
Among such partisans, none can be trusted;
I fear in their envy they'll smash my treasures.
The times are discordant, too easily they shift—
how can I linger any longer?
Orchid and angelica have changed and lost their fragrance,
sweet flag and heliotrope have turned to mere grass.
Why have the fragrant plants of bygone days
now all gone to common mugwort and wormwood?
How could it be for any other reason?
The fault's that no one cares for beauty!
I thought that orchid could be trusted,
but he proved to have no substance, nothing but
make accommodation their only rule.
Bitterly downcast in my frustration,
in such times I alone suffer hardship and want.
Better to die at once as a wandering exile—
I could never bear to do what those others do!
The swift-winged bird does not travel with the flock;
from times past this has been so.
How can square and round be made to fit together,
how can those who travel different roads plan for one another?
But to humble the heart and curb the will,
suffer censure, put up with shame,
hold fast to purity and whiteness, die for the right—
this the ancient sages heartily extolled.
Fording the Yüan and Hsiang, I journeyed south,
visited Ch'ung-hua and stated my case. 5
“Ch'i's Nine Arguments and Nine Songs—
these the Hsia rulers loved, indulging their desires.
They failed to heed danger, to consider the ages to come,
and so Wu-kuan brought contention to the ruling house. 6
Yi wandered recklessly, too eager for the chase;
he loved to shoot the big foxes.
But wild and disorderly ways seldom end right,
and Han Cho was there to covet his wife. 7
Chiao dressed himself in stout armor,
gave way to desires without restraint,
daily losing himself in sport and pleasure,
until his head came tumbling down. 8
Chieh of the Hsia violated the norms
and thus in the end encountered disaster.
Lord Hsin pickled the flesh of others
and hence the rule of Yin lasted no longer. 9
T'ang and Yü were solemn, pious, respectful;
Chou 10 expounded the Way and committed no error;
they promoted men of worth, employed the able,
followed the chalk and line without partiality.
August Heaven shows no favoritism;
it sees men's virtue and apportions its aid accordingly.
Only the sages and wise men flourish in action;
they indeed are worthy to rule these lands below.
I have viewed what went before, scrutinized what came after,
observing the standards that guide men's conduct.
Who, if not righteous, can ever rule,
who, if not good, can oversee affairs?
I have placed myself in peril, drawn close to death,
but as I look back at my former ways I have no regret.
Trying to shape a peg without thought for the hole it must fit—
even the ancient worthies met misfortune that way.
I sigh in my gloom and melancholy,
sad that the times I live in are so uncongenial.
Picking tender heliotrope, I wipe away the tears,
tears that wet my collar in wave on wave.”
I gathered bindweed, bamboo slips for divination,
commissioned Ling Fen to tell my fortune. 11
“Two beautiful ones are certain to come together,” he said.
“Who is truly fair and yet lacks admirers?
Consider the breadth and vastness of these Nine Provinces— 12
why should you think of those women only?
Dare to range farther afield, put off doubt—
who in search of beauty would pass you by?
What region is without its fragrant grasses?
Why must you pine for your old land?”
But the age is benighted, blinded, and confused;
who claims it can discern the good and bad in me?
People may differ in likes and dislikes,
but these cliquish ones—they're a breed apart!
Each one sports mugwort stuffed in his waist
and avers that rare orchids are not fit to wear.
If they're so blind in their discernment of plants,
how could they gauge the worth of precious gems?
They scoop up rotten earth to fill their scent bags
and claim that the pepper of Shen lacks aroma.
How rich the rare jewels I wear at my sash,
but the crowd conspires to darken and conceal them.
Among such partisans, none can be trusted;
I fear in their envy they'll smash my treasures.
The times are discordant, too easily they shift—
how can I linger any longer?
Orchid and angelica have changed and lost their fragrance,
sweet flag and heliotrope have turned to mere grass.
Why have the fragrant plants of bygone days
now all gone to common mugwort and wormwood?
How could it be for any other reason?
The fault's that no one cares for beauty!
I thought that orchid could be trusted,
but he proved to have no substance, nothing but
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