“Waiting for the Unicorn” | Open Indiana

Ts’ao Chen-chi (Sheng-chieh and Sheng-liu; SHIH-AN), a native of An-ch’iu, Shantung province, received the chin-shih degree in 1664 and subsequently entered government service, where he ultimately attained the position of Senior Secretary of the Board of Ceremonies. Little else is known about his personal life, save that he was a friend of the poet-official Shih Jun-chang (q.v.). He was a serious student of the art of poetry, and several of his collections of shih and tz’u poetry have survived to the present. Although his accomplishments in both genres were recognized in his own time, today his reputation as a poet rests almost exclusively on his lyrics. These are to be found in his K’o-hsüeh chi (Jade and Snow Collection) in two chüan (SPPY edition).

His best works in the lyric mode possess a purity of spirit, a vigorous manner, and a considerable breadth of topical interest. As such, he is somewhat reminiscent of the Southern Sung masters and certain of his contemporaries, such as Ch’en Wei-sung (q.v.).

(William Schultz)

Tune: Mu-lan hua (Magnolia Blossoms)
Title: Late Spring

One slash through the dense growth—the road south of the city,

Where frail catkins follow the wind as reckless as rain.

Dangling my whip, I often ride till the hour of sunset;

Seeing off guests, each time I come upon a heartbreaking place.

So quiet is the lane to my gate when spring’s about to end;

Beneath the trees the captivating crimson blooms, sad beyond words.

On painted rafters the swallows just sound asleep—

Once the ground’s been perfumed with fragrant petals, they fly off.

(KHT, 1:5b)

(Tr. William H. Nienhauser, Jr.)

Tune: Huan hsi sha (Sands of Silk-washing Stream)
Title: Inscribed on a Painting

Crab shops and fishing village—in an out of the way place;

Tall trees dense and dark, and flooded fields level with land.

Rivers and lakes all peaceful, and a white-gull sky.

Watercress leaves and rush blossoms blur the distant crossing;

Slanting winds and a fine mist hug the boat heading home;

But where will the old fisherman, pillowed on his straw cloak, find a place to sleep?

(KHT, 1:1b)

(Tr. William H. Nienhauser, Jr.)

Tune: Shui-lung yin
Title: White Lotus Flowers

A level lake, mist on the waters, obscure and indistinct—

Vaguely recalls the girl living at Heng Dike:¹

At the sudden rise of dark clouds,

Donning a feather cloak for the first time,²

Tenderly peering at her makeup.

As dew descends in the third watch of the night,

And the moon stretches bright over a thousand miles,

Stealthily she disappears without trace.

Imagine, reed flowers and duckweed leaves,

A misty void all of one color.

I feel lost by a jade well,

On a road to the mountain’s peak.

Could it be that unmarried daughter of Chu-lo Mountain,³

With her pendants dangling

Returning to Jo-yeh Brook?

My dream of the playful transcendent is distant—

As if an immortal crane rode off into the empyrean,

Or a woman’s tiny steps walked the waves.⁴

When egrets fly back to their perch,

I can still faintly recognize the scene;

A gentle breeze comes up,

A light magnolia boat sails away;

Half-hidden by thin damask,

What family can she be from?

(KHT, 2:4b-5a)

(Tr. William H. Nienhauser, Jr.)

Tune: Pai-tzu ling (Hundred-word Song)
Title: On a Historical Topic [Ching K’o]⁵

T’ien Kuang has grown old.⁶

Once he laughed at Prince Tan’s retainers, among them not one real man.⁷

“Horns on a horse and a white-headed crow?”⁸—the remorse of a thousand years!

The dagger in the casket gleaming like snow,⁹

The setting sun desolate,

The song in the key of yü so stirring,

A brave man’s hair bristled against his cap.

Ah, that young boy!

Why should an angry Wu-yang turn ashen-faced?¹⁰

Let me ask: the lute-player Chien-li,¹¹

Where was he then?

Why couldn’t he have shared the same carriage for the journey?

The sword-carrying First Emperor, startled at his sleeves being pulled,

Succeeded barely in leaping across a six-foot screen!

When the sun might have been strung on that long rainbow,¹²

That the king should run around a copper pillar—

Thus the calamity of Ch’in was perpetuated by Heaven’s will.

The mournful wind over the River Yi¹³

Still sobbing and choking to this day?

(KHT, 1:25a)

(Tr. William H. Nienhauser, Jr.)

NOTES

1. “Living at Heng Dike” (Heng-t’ang) recalls Li Ho’s (791–817) “Song of the Great Dike” (“Ta-t’i ch’ü”). The word t’ang can also be translated as “pond.” See Wu Wei-yeh, note 10.

2. Line three may refer either to a woman’s hair (see Li Ho’s “Song of the Great Dike”) or to the leaves of the lotus. The fourth line ostensibly describes the flower, but may also suggest the shamanistic references of the second stanza, since shamans often wore clothing made of feathers.

3. The unmarried miss of Chu-lo Mountain is Hsi Shih, the famous beauty of the state of Yüeh. The “bright pendants” again recall Li Ho’s poem cited in note 1 above. The area near Jo-yeh Brook had long been associated with beautiful women who picked lotus flowers.

4. Line 17 is taken verbatim from Ts’ao Chih’s (192–232) “Prose-poem on the Lo River Goddess” (“Lo-shen fu”). In Ts’ao Chih’s work, too, the poet watches a beautiful water goddess who then leaves him. Wen-hsüan, 19:8a-11a.

5. Ching K’o, also known as Master Ching, attempted to assassinate Yung Cheng, the King of Ch’in and the future Ch’in Shih Huang-ti, at the request of his master, Prince Tan of Yen, in 227 B.C. Knowing that Ching K’o would never return alive from this mission, the prince bade farewell to him with funeral obsequies at Yi River.

6. In the Yen-tan tzu version of the Ching K’o story apparently used by the poet, T’ien Kuang was first asked by Prince Tan of Yen to find some means of stopping Ch’in’s conquests. T’ien, however, said he was too old for the job and recommended Ching K’o. After the prince inadvertently offended T’ien by asking him to keep their discussion secret, he arranged for Ching K’o to see the monarch and then slit his own throat to prove his honor.

7. T’ien Kuang dismissed all of the prince’s men, because none of them could disguise their emotions well enough.

8. The prince had formerly been held a captive by Ch’in. The king of Ch’in said he’d never release him until crows had white heads and horses grew horns. When miraculously such events in fact transpired, the king kept his promise and released the prince. This was the beginning of the latter’s desire for revenge.

9. The prince obtained an especially sharp dagger and had it coated with a particularly deadly poison, with which to stab the king of Ch’in.

10. Wu-yang, or Ch’in Wu-yang, was the young man appointed by the prince to accompany Ching K’o. T’ien Kuang had rejected him in his analysis of the prince’s retainers, because his face turned white when he was angered. Later, when approaching the king of Ch’in with Ching K’o, Wu-yang does go pale and possibly (so Ts’ao Chen-chi implies) forewarns the king, despite Ching K’o’s assurance that Wu-yang was merely overcome by the splendor of the king’s court.

11. Kao Chien-li was considered to be a man of Ching K’o’s stature. After Ching’s failure he was finally brought to Ch’in to be executed. But the king was moved by his character and only had him blinded. Kao then filled his lute with lead and attempted to bludgeon the king to death with it. Ts’ao seems to imply that if Kao had gone with Ching K’o instead of Wu-yang, the mission may have been successful.

12. When Ching K’o approached the king, he grasped him by the sleeve. The king, unable to draw his sword, jumped a screen and evaded Ching K’o by running around a pillar. The rainbow metaphor was used to describe Nieh Cheng’s successful assassination of Han Wei, a story also recorded in the chapter on assassins in the Shih-chi.

13. Alluding to a line of a song Ching K’o sang as he departed Yen.

Waiting for the Unicorn