The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry (16 page)

The mother heard this
and beat the bed in fury:
“Little one, you better take care.
How dare you defend this woman!
She has already lost my favor,
and I will never approve your request!”

The man fell silent,
kowtowed to her and returned to his room.
He tried to talk to his wife
but fell sobbing and his voice failed.
“I don't want to send you away,
but my mother forces me.
Please just go home for a while,
let me report back to my office today.
I will come home again soon
and come for you to welcome you back.
Don't worry, this is my intent,
so please do as I say.”

The woman replied to her man:
“Please don't go over these tangled questions.
In the past, early one spring,
I said farewell to my home and came to your honored door.
My actions always followed your parents' wishes.
I didn't dare take a step on my own.
Day and night I worked with industry,
alone and suffering terrible hardship.
I committed no offenses,
just served and tried to show gratitude.
But when even so I'm still to be sent away,
how can you talk about my return?
I have an embroidered silk jacket
so bright it shines with its own light
and red silk curtains for my bed
with scented bags hanging in the four corners,
sixty or seventy covered chests
tied with green and black silk ropes,
countless different kinds of boxes,
and within are treasures of every sort.
Since I am so humble, my belongings are also humble,
hardly good enough to serve the new woman.
But I'll leave them here in case you can give them away.
Since we will never see each other again
they might give you some comfort.
As time unfolds, don't ever forget me.”

The rooster crowed and it was the crack of dawn.
The woman rose and did her makeup.
She put on her silk padded skirt,
and carefully checked herself four or five times.
She slipped a pair of silk shoes on her feet
and on her head a glowing hawksbill turtle comb,
a flowing white silk sash around her waist,
and on her ears bright moon earrings.
Her fingers were slender white scallion roots,
her lips red as if she'd sucked on cinnabar.
She walked with tiny elegant steps
with a beauty matchless in this world.
She went to the hall and kowtowed to her mother-in-law,
who listened without interrupting her:
“When I was a girl before marriage
I was brought up in the fields.
I did not have a good education
and I am sorry to have humbled your son.
I know I've received much money and silk from you,
and yet I cannot bear the way you use me.
Today I'm returning home,
and I worry you'll have too much work without me.”
Then she said good-bye to her husband's little sister
while her tears rolled down like stringed pearls:
“When I first came as a young woman
you held the bed's edge in order to stand up.
But now that I am being sent away
you are just as tall as I am.
Use your heart and take care of your parents
and take care of yourself.
On the seventh and twenty-ninth
⁴
don't forget how much fun we had.”

She walked out and climbed into the carriage,
shedding a hundred lines of tears.
The man's horse trotted away,
and her carriage set off later.
Click-clack
and rambling and rumbling,
the horse and carriage met again at a large crossroads.
Dismounting, the husband entered the carriage,
lowered his head and whispered in her ear:
“I vow I will not abandon you.
You just go home for the time being.
I must return to my office
but will come back soon.
I swear before heaven I will not forsake you.”

The woman answered the clerk:
“I thank you for your concern.
If you truly hold me so near to your heart
I expect you to come soon.
You will be the rock
and I will be a reed.
Reeds can be tough as silk,
but don't let the rock move!
I have a father and many brothers
with tempers explosive as thunder.
I fear they won't let me follow my will.
The thought of it makes my heart sizzle.”
They raised their hands long in farewell
two of them loving and sad, unwilling to depart.

She passed through the gate and into the hall of her home,
hesitant and feeling shame.
Her mother clapped her hands in anger:
“I never expected to see you sent back home!
I taught you how to weave at thirteen
how to tailor at fourteen
how to play the many-stringed harp at fifteen
and rules and good manners at sixteen.
I married you off at the age of seventeen
and you vowed you wouldn't be wayward.
Now what offense have you committed,
that you return home without invitation?”
But Ah Lan said, “I am sorry to humiliate you mother,
yet I really did nothing wrong,”
and then her mother felt a deep sorrow.

About ten days after her return,
the county head sent a matchmaker over, who said,
“The governor has a third son
handsome without peer.
He is only eighteen or nineteen
and he shows great eloquence and talent…”

The mother said to her daughter,
“You should take this offer.”
But her daughter replied in tears:
“When I was coming home,
the clerk urged me again and again
and we vowed not to separate.
If I go against emotions and integrity
I'm afraid this matter will turn out badly.
Please send the messenger away,
and let's take time to talk about this matter.”
The mother told the matchmaker:
“Our daughter is poor and humble,
and she was just sent home to her parents.
If she was not good as a clerk's wife,
how can she be good for your gentleman?
You should go and inquire in other houses.
I cannot give you my consent now.”

After the matchmaker had been gone a few days
the governor sent over another official:
“Since people know Lan Zhi's family
has long served as government officials,
and since the fifth son of the governor
is handsome and unmarried,
I'm sent to be a matchmaker.
I talked to your local secretary
and told him about the governor
and this fine young man.
We intend to propose a marriage
so we are here at your honored door.”
The mother thanked the matchmaker:
“My daughter has already made a vow;
how dare I mention it again?”

When the brother learned about this,
his heart was puzzled and annoyed.
He questioned his sister:
“Why don't you think about it carefully?
Your first marriage was only to a clerk,
but for a second marriage you could get a lord!
It's like changing earth for heaven.
It is enough to give you high status. If you don't want this
marriage, what are you going to do in the future?”

Lan Zhi held up her head and replied:
“You are right, brother.
I left home to serve my husband,
yet midway had to return to my brother's door.
I should follow my brother's wishes.
How should I follow my own will?
Though I have an agreement with the clerk,
there's no chance we will be together again.”
And at the moment she agreed,
ready to accept this marriage.

The matchmaker rose up from the couch,
and repeatedly said yes and yes.
He returned to tell the governor:
“I took your orders and conferred with them,
the outlook seems very promising.”
When the governor heard this
his heart was full and happy.
He consulted his books and astrological calendar
and said, “It is best for them to marry in this month.
The six elements are all in the right combination.
The lucky date is the thirtieth,
and today is already the twenty-seventh.
You can go and arrange the wedding.”

Orders were soon given to have things prepared,
errand runners came one after another like floating clouds.
There were green peacock boats and white swan boats
with dragon banners decorating their four corners
and turning gracefully with wind,
gold wagons with jade wheels
and piebald horses prancing,
their gold saddles decorated with tassels,
a dowry of three million coins
all strung along green threads,
three hundred bolts of varied silks,
delicacies from seas and mountains of Jiao and Guang provinces,
and four or five hundred servants
crowded out from the governor's gate.

The mother said to the daughter:
“I just received the governor's letter,
they will come and take you tomorrow.
Why aren't you making your wedding dress now?
Please don't ruin the whole thing.”
The daughter remained silent,
weeping with a handkerchief over her mouth,
tears coming down like torrents.
She moved her glazed table
and placed it by the front window.
With scissors and ruler in her left hand,
and gauzes and silks in her right hand
she made herself an embroidered padded skirt by morning
and by evening her silk blouse was done.
The gloomy sun was darkening out
when in grief she stepped out of the gate to weep.

The clerk heard how unexpectedly things had changed,
and asked for leave to come home.
About one mile from Lan Zhi's place,
his horse sensed his sadness and neighed.
The woman recognized the horse's whinny,
stepped into her shoes and went to see.
Looking sadly into the distance,
she knew it was her husband.
She raised her hand and beat the saddle,
lamenting with a hurt heart:
“Since you were separated from me,
things have happened unexpectedly
and nothing we wished for has turned out,
though you may not understand the reasons.
I have my parents
and my brothers who have pressured me,
promising me to another man.
And now you're here, expecting what?”

The clerk replied to the woman:
“Congratulations! Congratulations on your rise!
The rock is square and solid,
it stays put for a thousand years
but rushes are tough for just a moment,
changing between dawn and dusk.
Your life will improve day by day,
while I go alone to the Yellow Springs.”
The woman said to her man,
“Why do you say things like this?
We both were forced
—you just the same as I was.
We'll meet down in the Yellow Springs.
Don't go back on what you said today!”
They held hands and then went each their own way,
returning to their homes.
Although alive, they were parted as in death
with bitterness beyond words.
They were determined to leave this world;
its ten thousand things could not pull them back.

The clerk returned to his home
and greeted his mother in the hall:
“Today's high wind is cold,
it has destroyed many trees
and heavy frost encases the orchid.
⁵
Your son is sunsetting,
leaving you alone behind.
I make this bad move by my own choice;
don't complain to gods or ghosts.
I wish you a long life like rock in the South Mountain,
with all your limbs healthy and straight.”

The clerk kowtowed again and withdrew,
sighing and sighing in his empty bedroom
even more determined to see out his plan.
He turned his head to the door,
and felt the pressure of anxious sorrow.

That day cows lowed and horses neighed
as the newly wed woman entered the green tent.
Dark and dark, late in the evening,
quiet, so quiet, all the people settled, she said,
“My life is going to end today,
the soul will leave the body behind.”
Lifting her skirt and taking off her silk shoes,
she jumped into a green pond.
When the clerk heard about this,
his heart knew she'd taken the long departure.
He walked back and forth under a tree in the courtyard,
and hanged himself from the southeast branch.

The families decided to bury them together.
They were buried by Flower Mountain.
On the east and west sides, pines and cypress were planted,
left and right, parasol trees,
branches and branches holding hands,
leaves and leaves touching each other
and in the center a pair of flying birds,
the kind called mandarin ducks.
They'd look up and sing to each other
every night till the fifth beat of the drum,
making travelers stop and listen
and widows get up at night and pace.
This is a warning to people of the future:
learn this lesson and never forget this story!

*
Compare this poem to the “Nineteen Ancient Poems,” especially numbers 1, 2, 16, 17, and 18. The letter in the carp refers either to wooden fish-shaped letter cases or to actual fish, since in Chinese tradition people sometimes sent secret things packed inside of fish (maps, daggers, letters, and so on).

¹
”Big Mother,” literally “Big Person” (
da ren)
, a title of respect, like “Your Honor;” in this context, a term for the mother-in-law.

²
“Once we bound our hair,” meaning after we came of age. Thus the term for the first wife is the “bound hair wife.”

³
Literally, the line ends “even in Yellow Springs.”

⁴
The seventh and twenty-ninth were days of rest.

⁵
The “orchid” refers to his wife, Lan Zhi, whose name means “orchid.”

AFTER A REVOLT BY A SECRET SOCIETY OF DAOISTS KNOWN AS
the Yellow Turbans, the Eastern Han dynasty ruled in name, but three warlords held the true power. Though the great military leader Cao Cao tried to rule through a puppet emperor, he was confronted by two powerful enemies, Liu Bei and Sunquan. In 220, Cao Cao's son proclaimed himself the emperor of the Kingdom of Wei, in 221 Liu Bei became the king of Shu, and in 229 Sunquan became the king of Wu, ushering in a period of great disorder and disunity known as the Six Dynasties Period, which stretched from the end of the Han dynasty in 220 to the reunification of China in the Sui dynasty in 589.

The Six Dynasties Period opens with the Three Kingdoms Period (220–260), as the three powerful kingdoms, the Wei, the Xu, and the Wu, each vied for military dominance. These short-lived empires soon gave way to a dizzying array of kingdoms and dynasties, none of which could manage to reunify China, with the exception of the brief Western Jin dynasty, which was overrun within decades of its founding by northern barbarians. Northern China, the traditional core of Chinese civilization, was given over to foreign rule, and the Chinese retreated to the south, beginning the period known as the Northern and Southern Kingdoms. Only with the Sui dynasty did China attain something like its former extent and glory, and although the Sui did not last long, it laid the foundation for the extraordinary cultural and economic golden age of the Tang dynasty that followed.

During the Six Dynasties Period the Han dynasty state cult of Confucius declined, Daoism developed into a full-blown religion, and Buddhism was introduced and rapidly spread throughout China.

Folk songs were popular and continued to be adapted by the literati, as they had during the Han dynasty under the direction of the Music Bureau. Literary poetry also flourished, marked by the five-character line that the Music Bureau had popularized. There were wonderful rollicking drinking songs, elegant poems of nature and of spiritual questing, and, of course, political poetry as well. Cao Cao, the ruler of the Kingdom of Wei, was a notable literary poet and patron of poetry, as were his two sons. In this tumultuous time, as J. D. Frodsham notes, “Life may not have been nasty and brutish; but it was undoubtably short. In perusing the biographies of the officials of this epoch, one is struck by the frequency with which the phrases ‘executed in the marketplace,' ‘permitted to strangle himself,' ‘was killed by marauding soldiery,' and the like, write finish to many a career. A violent and bloody end was a commonplace of the time…. Small wonder then that the poetry of this period is deeply concerned with the terrors of old age and death.”
¹
Perhaps it is no surprise that in an era of such upheaval, some of the finest poetry was written by Tao Qian (also called Tao Yuan-ming), whose work is known for its Daoist, romantic celebration of retreat from the cares of the world into nature. Tao Qian does have an aspect of what Burton Watson calls “thanatophobia, the morbid fear of death,” particularly in his elegies, the coffin-puller songs, based (as Watson notes) upon “the dirges sung by the men of Han times as they pulled the hearse to the graveyard.”
²
Tao Qian's poetry is known for its plain diction, spiritual and imaginative depth, and celebration of the ordinary, and its Daoist reverence for the spiritual aspect of nature deeply influenced later poets—notably Wang Wei, the great Tang dynasty poet of pastoral Buddhism.