南乡子·重九涵辉楼呈徐君猷 A Toast on the Double Nineth Festival

南乡子·重九涵辉楼呈徐君猷

原作：苏轼

英译：戈登.奥赛茵，闵晓红

霜降水痕收，

浅碧鳞鳞露远洲。

酒力渐消风力软，

飕飕，

破帽多情却恋头。

佳节若为酬，

但把清尊断送秋。

万事到头都是梦，

休休，

明日黄花蝶也愁。

A Toast on the Double Nineth Festival

(to Xu Junyou at Hanhui Tower)

--composed to the tune of Nanxiangzi

     Chinese original by: Su Shi ( 11^th AC)

     English Version by: Julia Min

Since First Frost, the river recedes to shallows,

distant sandbars revealed with gleaming ripples.

The wine’s magic slowly leaves me to a breeze,

Hissing, hissing -

Ruffling through my old hat for old memories.

What gift have I to honour this hallowed time?

But your wine, to pour for Autumn’s final prime.

Someday, everything we cherish will disappear,

Near and nigh -

As chrysanthemums fall to butterflies' despair.

Appreciation:

On the Double Ninth Festival of 1082, a man found himself nearing fifty yet further away from achieving his ambition. For nearly four years, Su Shi had lived in exile in Huangzhou, a fallen star from the Song court. His official host—and de facto warden—was Governor Xu Junyou. Yet, in a twist of fate, Xu had proven not a jailer but a brother, sustaining the poet through the long aftermath of the "Crows Platform Poem Case."

As they would often do in the Song after a few rounds of wine in Hanhui Tower, Xu called for a verse. Su Shi's response was immediate and profound. What flowed from his brush was a toast to autumn and a sigh for a life that is, in the end, a fleeting dream. The poem captures a moment of painful clarity: his prime has slipped away, his political dreams are dissolving, and he must now make peace with his fate in the dusty quiet of Huangzhou.

Reference:

1. Blooming Alone in Winter by Gordon Osing, Julia Min and Huang Haipeng (《寒心未肯随春态》戈登.奥赛茵，闵晓红，黄海鹏) “On the Double Ninth Festival at Hanhui Pavilion” (By Frost’s Descent the water level falls/ To shallows glittering like clear dcales, disclosing sands./The way wine’s power slowly leaves the mind to a light wind,/Rustling my worn-out hat full of tenderness, that loves my head./How can I honor a special, festival time?/I’ve only this cup of wine to say farewell to autumn./Everything at last turns back into thin air./It’s over: tomorrow the mums wither and the butterflies despair.)

2. picture from https://www.sohu.com/a/349362465_727694

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