The Water Song (by Su Dong Po)

Approaching the middle of November, here is a poem for the holiday season, which is almost upon us.  This is a song for the celebration of the mid-autumn festival by the great Chinese poet Su Dong Po; it was composed while he was joyfully carousing to the break of dawn, thinking of Zi You, his younger brother

O bright moon

What time do you have?

I raise my wine to ask

Of the blue heavens

Unsure what year it is

In the celestial realm

I long to ride the winds

Back to your lonely jade palace

It’s chilly up there for sure

Rising to dance

Everything looks

Perfectly clear

Down here in the

Mortal realm

A spinning

Colorful pavilion

The silk banners

Suspended from the doorway

Shining and sleepless

There’s no point

Feeling regret

No matter how long

Since you’ve departed

The hour of fullness

Comes round again

Human joy and sorrow

Each in its turn

The moon has

Its phases too

Overcast or clear

Waxing or crescent

It’s been that way forever

Hard to grasp the wholeness

If only we can have enough time

Whether far distant or together
In this graceful moonlight

水调歌头

丙辰中秋，欢饮达旦，大醉，作此篇。兼怀子由。

明月几时有

把酒问青天

不知天上宫阙

今夕是何年

我欲乘风归去

又恐琼楼玉宇

高处不胜寒

起舞弄清影

何似在人间

转朱阁

低绮户

照无眠

不应有恨

何事长向别时圆

人有悲欢离合

月有阴晴圆缺

此事古难全

但愿人长久

千里共婵娟

*  *  *  *  *

The Tang Spirit of autumn lives on.  You can see it on display in New York City on the corner of 7^th Avenue and 27^th Street where my friend Steve Zhang inscribed his toast to Zhuang Zhou on the façade of the FIT building (where Steve is on the faculty).    

Reborn as a butterfly

Zhuang fluttered

A thousand miles

In the bright moonlight

By the Big River

Let’s raise our glasses

莊生蝴蝶迷千里

明月大江酹一尊

In this poetic fragment Steve has included allusions to some of the most important images in Chinese poetry – the dream of Zhuang Zhou, as well as famous lyrics by Li Shang Yin and Su Dong Po.  In any case, as you can see, we have our own compact circle of modern day Tang poetry, and more than a millennium after the fall of the last Tang emperor, we’re still hoisting our glasses in the spirit of autumn’s brilliant moonlight.

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