儋耳 Dan’Er, Hainan Island
- Julia Min
- 6小时前
- 讀畢需時 3 分鐘
Dan’Er, Hainan Island
Chinese original: Su Shi (11th Century)
English version: Julia Min (Aug. 2026)
The thunder’s fury spent — the race is run;
And so the rain clears for the setting sun.
Up on a hill, by a cliff rail, a solitary soul,
Whose heart still leaps to behold a rainbow:
A hanging arch in the sky amid soft clouds;
A sweeping wind from a sea without bounds.
Old farmers’ songs of harvest fill the streets.
A pardon decree has set the exile free.
Yet Dongpo is content, no desire for more;
I’d only wish for a country life in peace.
A ravine of my own will suffice the old me,
To be bound each to each by natural piety.

Notes:
1. 儋耳 (Dān’ěr): Su Shi’s place of exile in Hainan, where he was banished in the final years of his life. The poem was written when a decree seemed likely to permit his return.
2. The exile: The “exile” refers to Su Shi himself. The pardon decree promised his release from banishment, yet by then he had grown increasingly detached from political ambition.
3. Dongpo: Su Shi’s literary name, adopted from his beloved residence at Dongpo (“East Slope”) in Huangzhou (Hubei Province today). Here, “the old me” echoes his self-identification as Dongpo, the man who has learned to find contentment away from political life.
For Appreciation
This short poem captures Su Shi at a remarkable turning point. The storm has passed, yet his spirit remains wonderfully alive. His heart still leaps at the sight of a rainbow; he delights in the vigorous sea wind and shares the farmers’ joy in a year of plenty. There is nothing withdrawn or world-weary in this response to life. His spontaneous, unguarded nature remains intact, even after years of exile and political hardship.
Yet something fundamental has changed. A pardon may set the exile free, but Dongpo no longer hungers for political advancement. What he longs for is a long-awaited return to a pastoral life, where he can reclaim his natural piety. This carries a distinctly Daoist spirit: Yet something fundamental has changed. A pardon may set the exile free, but Dongpo no longer hungers for political advancement. What he longs for is a long-awaited return to a pastoral life, where he can reclaim his natural piety. This reflects a distinctly Daoist spirit: freedom from worldly striving, harmony with nature, and a return to simplicity. It also recalls Tao Yuanming (陶渊明), the great poet of reclusion, whom Su Shi admired so deeply that he wrote elsewhere, “I see Yuanming as my previous life.”Tao Yuanming (陶渊明), the great poet of reclusion, whom Su Shi admired so deeply as in his poem“I See My Previous Life in Yuanming” (江城子·梦中了了醉中醒).
Across cultures and centuries, Wordsworth seems to answer Su Shi. His famous line, “The Child is father of the Man,” offers a striking parallel to Su Shi’s enduring truth: the spontaneous, unguarded heart of childhood endures the trials of adulthood. Wordsworth’s “natural piety” likewise suggests a return to an instinctive bond with nature, free from worldly calculation. Yet Su Shi makes the idea his own: his return to the pastoral is not an escape from life but a liberation from political striving—a return to the simple joys, human warmth, and open spirit that were never extinguished within him. The deliberate echo of Wordsworth’s line invites English-language readers to recognise a kindred spirit in Su Shi, drawing this distant poet closer to the heart.
Chinese original:
儋耳 苏轼
霹雳收威暮雨开,独凭栏槛倚崔嵬。垂天雌霓云端下,快意雄风海上来。
野老已歌丰岁语,除书欲放逐臣回。残年饱饭东坡老,一壑能专万事灰。
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