It’s been a long while since I’ve translated a Tang poem, but lately I’ve felt the need for some spiritual nourishment, which I am almost always able to find by reading classical Chinese poetry. Where better to look than in the collected works of Du Fu.
This is a poem Du Fu wrote in the late 750s called Facing Snow.
Facing Snow
Fighting back tears
For many fresh ghosts
A lonely old man
Reciting his woes
A welter of clouds
As darkness descends
Snow swirling swiftly
Dancing in the wind
An empty wine bottle
The ladle discarded
Embers in the stove
Give lingering heat
Of the world beyond
Nothing but silence
While I sit and fret
Over an empty page
对雪
戰哭多新鬼
愁吟獨老翁
亂雲低薄暮
急雪舞回風
瓢棄尊無綠
爐存火似紅
數州消息斷
愁坐正書空
How do I find spiritual uplift in this otherwise bleak poem? In part, it lies in the simple pleasure of the deep human connection that it provides – with the snow swirling about, the 1200 years that separate us from this winter scene simply melt away as Du Fu sits right before us at his desk. The poem serves as an invitation to briefly inhabit his life and world. This is a distinguishing quality of so much great Tang poetry – a vivid sense of the poet’s presence.
And there’s something else about this poem that helps revive my spirits. It was written in the late 750s, at the height of the An Lushan rebellion, a dark time for Du Fu, as well as for the Chinese people. The Emperor Xuanzong had recently fled the capital and abdicated the throne. Food was scarce, famine rampant. Du Fu was living in semi-captivity, separated from his family, and consumed with anxiety. And still, despite facing this wall of worries, he managed to write this as well as several dozen other of his very finest poems.
So it's a good reminder as we face our own dark times. It may be winter in America, a season of ice, as Gil Scott-Heron called it. A season of frozen dreams and frozen nightmares. Frozen aspirations and inspirations. Lord knows I've spent far too many hours staring at my own empty pages. It's time to start writing and translating again.
