A Song of Valediction: Dreaming I Roamed on TianMu Mountain
by Li Bai, A.D. 701-762
• Background
Back in 2001 I got the notion of trying my hand at poetry translation. I tackled one of Li Bai's poems, Meng You TianMu Yin LiuBie — "A Song of Valediction: Dreaming I Roamed on TianMu Mountain." The result, which was not altogether satisfactory, can be inspected below, or here. I have also included Witter Bynner's translation for comparison.
Here is a reading of the poem in modern Chinese by a Chinese actor, Sun DaoLin. I have taken it from a CD titled Tang Shi Song Ci Jing Dian YinSong — "A Classical Recital of Tang Shi and Song Ci." (Tang and Song are the names of two medieval dynasties. Shi and Ci are styles of poetry.)
Li Bai is one of the "three greats" of Tang poetry, the other two being Du Fu and Wang Wei. The commonplace, and not entirely facile, thumbnail sketch of these three tags each with one of the main strands of Chinese life-philosophy: Du Fu with Confucianism (sober, worldly), Wang Wei with Buddhism (intellectual, spiritual), Li Bai with Taoism (romantic, fantastic).
This poem was written in 742, when the poet was 40 or 41 years old.
For some general remarks of mine about Tang poetry, see here. For my review of Simon Elegant's fictionalized life of Li Bai, see here.
• Notes
TianMu Mountain is in XinChang County of the modern ZheJiang Province. ChiCheng (pronounced "chrrr-cherng") and TianTai are neighboring mountains.
The Blessed Isles are mythical. They were supposed to lie out in the Pacific and to be the abode of Immortals. Bynner translates the term as "Japan," wrongly I think. For poetic purposes Japan was often included among the Blessed Isles; but to educated Chinese of the period, the distinction between Japan (real) and the Isles (mythical) was clear.
"The Five Summits" refers to the five holy mountains of China: Mount Tai in ShanDong Province, Mount Heng in HuNan, Mount Hua in ShaanXi, Mount Huan in HeBei and Mount Song in HeNan.
Mirror Lake is south of the city of ShaoXing, in ZheJiang Province. The Shan is a small river in nearby Sheng County.
"Master Xie" (pronounced "shee-eh") refers to the poet and hermit Xie LingYun, 385-433 A.D.
A white deer was supposed to be the steed of choice for immortals. It was Li Po's conceit that he was a "banished immortal" — an immortal expelled from heaven for misbehavior.
The last line (as printed here in the Chinese, but two lines in my translation: "How can I …" etc.) is so well-known as to be an idiom.
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• Play the reading
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• Text of the poem
梦游天姥吟留别
李白
海客谈瀛洲，烟涛微茫信难求。
越人语天姥，云霓明灭或可睹。
天姥连天向天横，势拔五岳掩赤城。
天台四万八千丈，对此欲倒东南倾。
我欲因之梦吴越，一夜飞渡镜湖月。
湖月照我影，送我至剡溪。
谢公宿处今尚在，渌水荡漾清猿啼。
脚著谢公屐，身登青云梯。
半壁见海日，空中闻天鸡。
千岩万壑路不定，迷花倚石忽已暝。
熊咆龙吟殷岩泉，栗深林兮惊层巅。
云青青兮欲雨，水澹澹兮生烟。
裂缺霹雳，丘峦崩摧。
洞天石扇，訇然中开。
青冥浩荡不见底，日月照耀金银台。
霓为衣兮风为马，云之君兮纷纷而来下。
虎鼓瑟兮鸾回车，仙之人兮列如麻。
[Reader repeats that line.]
忽魂悸以魄动，恍惊起而长嗟。
惟觉时之枕席，失向来之烟霞。
世间行乐亦如此，古来万事东流水。
[Reader repeats that line.]
别君去兮何时还？且放白鹿青崖间。
须行即骑访名山。
安能摧眉折腰事权贵，使我不得开心颜！
[Reader repeats last three lines.]
Seafarers tell of the Blessed Isles —
Veiled, indistinct in the mists of the sea.
Southern folk speak of TianMu Mountain,
Now seen, now hidden in slow-shifting clouds.
TianMu soars straight to the sky, to the span of heaven,
Above the Five Summits, shadowing ChiCheng Peak,
While TianTai himself, in towering splendor,
Seems merely a foothill off to the southeast.
Ah, but I long for dreams of the South —
To fly across Mirror Lake under the moon!
My moon-shadow roaming far to Shan River,
Where Master Xie's retreat may still be seen,
And green water ripples to monkeys' sad calls.
In that old poet's clogs I ascend through the mists.
Midway see sunrise on the sea,
Hear the great heaven-bird's cry.
I weave my way between trackless cliffs.
Lost in foliage I rest … when swiftly comes dusk.
Wild beasts' roaring shakes river and cliff;
The forest trembles — Oh! The massed peaks shudder!
Clouds darken with yearning to rain,
Streams fade beneath thickening mist.
Thunder peals!
The mountains tumble!
With a mighty growl from deep within,
Heaven's stone door swings aside!
First boundless dark — then sun and moon
Reveal the palace of the immortals!
Ah! Clothed in rainbows, riding on winds,
Sallies out the host of heaven!
With tigers for musicians, phoenix as charioteers —
Oh, numberless are their ranks!
My spirit cowers, my soul trembles! But —
I wake … and sigh for my loss.
Nothing here but the pillow I slept on;
My glimpse of heaven naught but a dream.
So always with human rapture;
The joys of all time flow away to the east.
I bid thee farewell — Who knows for how long?
When the need stirs me I shall mount a white deer
And ride to seek the holy mountain!
How can I bend my knee to men of power,
Who will not let my spirit fly?
A seafaring visitor will talk about Japan,
Which waters and mists conceal beyond approach;
But Yüeh people talk about Heavenly Mother Mountain,
Still seen through its varying deeps of cloud.
In a straight line to heaven, its summit enters heaven,
Tops the five Holy Peaks, and casts a shadow through China
With the hundred-mile length of the Heavenly Terrace Range,
Which, just at this point, begins turning southeast.
… My heart and my dreams are in Wu and Yüeh
And they cross Mirror Lake all night in the moon.
And the moon lights my shadow
And me to Yien River —
With the hermitage of Hsieh still there
And the monkeys calling clearly over ripples of green water.
I wear his pegged boots
Up a ladder of blue cloud,
Sunny ocean half-way,
Holy cock-crow in space,
Myriad peaks and more valleys and nowhere a road.
Flowers lure me, rocks ease me. Day suddenly ends.
Bears, dragons, tempestuous on mountain and river,
Startle the forest and make the heights tremble.
Clouds darken with darkness of rain,
Streams pale with pallor of mist.
The Gods of Thunder and Lightning
Shatter the whole range.
The stone gate breaks asunder
Venting in the pit of heaven,
An impenetrable shadow.
… But now the sun and moon illumine a gold and silver terrace,
And, clad in rainbow garments, riding on the wind,
Come the queens of all the clouds, descending one by one,
With tigers for their lute-players and phoenixes for dancers.
Row upon row, like fields of hemp, range the fairy figures.
I move, my soul goes flying,
I wake with a long sigh,
My pillow and my matting
Are the lost clouds I was in.
… And this is the way it always is with human joy:
Ten thousand things run for ever like water toward the east.
And so I take my leave of you, not knowing for how long.
… But let me, on my green slope, raise a white deer
And ride to you, great mountain, when I have need of you.
Oh, how can I gravely bow and scrape to men of high rank and men of high office
Who never will suffer being shown an honest-hearted face!