“Waiting for the Unicorn”
Ch’en Pao-shen (Po-ch’ien; T’AO-AN), a native of Foochow, Fukien, was a scholar-official, poet, and calligrapher, who had the dubious distinction of being the last of a long line of tutors to Chinese emperors. He passed the chin-shih examination in 1868 and shortly thereafter won an appointment to the Hanlin Academy as a compiler, and later rose to become a grand councilor. During the seventies, Ch’en was known for his fearless criticism of corrupt officials and his attempts to reassert a high moral tone in the Ch’ing court. Along with Chang Chih-tung, Huang T’i-fang (1832–1899), and others, he belonged to a group of conservatives known as the “Pure Trend” (ch’ing-liu) party. Following the defeat of China in the Sino-French War, he was accused of ineptness in administration and demoted. For more than twenty years after 1891, he returned to his native town where he built his Riverside Charm Villa (Ts’ang-ch’ü lou) and found consolation in poetry. In 1909, he was restored to court favor and honored with appointment as Tutor (t’ai-pao) to the last emperor, Hsuan-t’ung, better known as the private citizen Henry P’u-yi (1906–1967) after the fall of the dynasty. A loyalist to the very end, Ch’en was able, however, to resist the temptation to follow the deposed emperor to Manchuria when Manchukuo was established under Japanese protection. Ch’en’s poetry was considered by the critic Ch’en Yen to be indebted to Han Yü and Wang An-shih (1021–1086), but his style, on the whole, appears closer to the Sung style of poetry than to that of the T’ang.
(Irving Lo)
Inscription for My Evergreen Pavilion
Silk Shearing Lake1 is half clogged by reeds and grass,
But this knoll tops others in reflective charm of water and trees.
The sun hangs the pagoda’s shadow on the branches above a cliff;
For pleasure and contentment one needs only find a suitable place;
In choosing a house because of neighbors, shouldn’t one show some care?
On Western Hill gardens and walls crowd each other;
But here a man finds the right way to nurture his moral self.
(Holograph)
(Tr. Yi-yu Cho Woo)
I
The three peaks beyond my pavilion show no human feelings:
In all four seasons, I look on them entranced as if by a mica screen.2
I have spend my whole life in mountain clogs3—
How can that match viewing the green hills through the branches?
II
Dare I dislike the green pond for the reflection of my unkempt hair?
This tree I planted in the courtyard has spread beyond the eaves.
Shading me from the arrogant sun, it yet obstructs the moon:
Now I know that nothing in human affairs can achieve total perfection.
(Nos. 1 and 5 from a series of 5; Chen, p. 527.)
(Tr. Irving Lo)
On the Twenty-Second Night of the Seventh Month,
Facing the Moon at Listening-to-the-Water Studio
Autumn air snatches me out of a solitary man’s dream;
The moon at the window is as insubstantial as the mist.
The raging sounds of the endless water,
The still, solemn sky just before daybreak—
Dense shadows of trees are like magic symbols;
The low chirpings of insects are mystic notes.
Pacing along the rail, I could burst into laughter—
Finding myself neither dead nor enlightened.
(Ch’en, p. 517)
(Tr. Irving Lo)
8. Calligraphy and text of the poem “Inscription for my Evergreen Pavilion” by Ch’en Pao-shen. From the collection of Catherine Yi-yu Cho Woo.
NOTES
1. Lieh-po Lake probably derives its name from the sound of the waters, said to be similar to the noise produced by the shearing of a bolt of silk. The name given by the poet to his pavilion was Tzu-ch’ing hsieh, and his studio was called T’ing-shui lou (Listening-to-the-water Studio).
2. The last three words of this line: ch’ang Yün-ping (literally, “open [up] the mica screen”) is taken from a quatrain by the T’ang poet Li Shang-yin entitled “Dragon Pond” (Lung-ch’ih). The original poem is a political satire said to have been composed to describe Hsüan-tsung’s attempt to convert a humble residence in Hsing-ch’ing Lane (li) into the Hsing-ch’ing Palace because of an alleged “dragon” or imperial air hovering over it. Ch’ang in another sense could mean “lost in thought” (cf. the compound ch’ang-wang).
3. Alluding to the poet Hsieh Ling-yün’s famous mountain-climbing boots.
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