游金山寺 My Unforgettable Visit to Jinshan Temple

游金山寺

原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋）

英译及赏析: 闵晓红(2023)

我家江水初发源，宦游直送江入海。

闻道潮头一丈高，天寒尚有沙痕在。

中泠南畔石盘陀，古来出没随涛波。

试登绝顶望乡国，江南江北青山多。

羁愁畏晚寻归楫，山僧苦留看落日。

微风万顷靴文细，断霞半空鱼尾赤。

是时江月初生魄，二更月落天深黑。

江心似有炬火明，飞焰照山栖鸟惊。

怅然归卧心莫识，非鬼非人竟何物？

江山如此不归山，江神见怪惊我顽。

我谢江神岂得已，有田不归如江水。

注：1071年苏轼赴杭州任通判，途径镇江金山寺，留宿。二更夜看见寺前的长江现异象，遂写此诗记下。

My Unforgettable Visit to Jinshan Temple

written by: Su Shi

English version: Julia Min ( Feb. 2023)

This river source is Mt Min in my hometown.

My career followed the waves all the way down.

It’s said she loses peace to roaring tides at times,

rolling sands down to where the ocean hides.

Yet, the rocks by Zhongling Stream on the south

Stand fast through all the waves, soft or loud.

I climb the peak for a glimpse of my native place,

Green ranges crowd my gaze, losing Min’s trace.

It’s time to go home, but I can’t find my boat.

As my mind wanders, the day’s getting late.

The monks bid me stay: The sunset is best —

Rosy clouds parade, a symphony of shades.

Far and near, the breeze rolls rippling waves.

As the new moon pins the darkening sky,

a bright object suddenly appears on the river.

The hills are floodlit, and crows caw in fear.

The River is consumed by the dark right after.

I cannot sleep, lost in reasoning for a judgment.

Maybe River God’s vexed with this wanderer,

who lingers after fame, this far from homeland.

I seek His pardon — driven not by my choice,

and swear to return when I can own some land.

Notes:

1. Jinshan Temple: an old temple complex on Mt. Jin (‘shan’ meaning a hill here) in

Zhenjiang City, Jiangsu Province, today. The complex land was once an island in the middle of the Yangtze River during Su Shi’s time, but is now just a part of the south bank.

2. Mt Min: Su Shi was born in Meizhou, a small town nestled at the bottom of the great Mt Min, which was believed back then to be the source of the Yangtze River.

3. Zhongling Stream: a stream running down Mt Jin to the Yangtze River;

Appreciation：

On his way to his new post as the mayor of Hangzhou, Su Shi was invited by his friends, two monks at Jinshan Temple, to visit the famous complex. It may have been the monks’ idea to hide Su Shi’s boat so they could spend more time with their beloved friend. That night, under a crescent moon, they saw with awe a supernatural sight in the middle of the Yangtze River, which, in modern terms, could be an unidentified object. It happened at about 10 pm on November 3, 1070, according to the Chinese lunar calendar, around early December in the solar calendar.

This poem in 7-character verse could be read simply as a travelogue. But the touch of a celebrity, with his sentiment at that moment, enhances the artistic effect through dramatic imagination. It is structured into three parts, so it can be reasonably divided into three stanzas to suit today’s poetry format. (Ancient Chinese writings didn’t use paragraph format or punctuation.) It begins with a melancholy sigh that he’s wandering further away on his official journey from his hometown on the Yangtze River, foreshadowing the ending verse.

The sightseeing and aesthetic values are detailed here, with the rocks on the south bank symbolising his obstinate personality, hinting that he’s so buried in the hustle and bustle of the fame-hunting game that he’s not awakened to free his true nature. The 2nd stanza tells the main incident of the miraculous object in flames, lighting up both banks of the river. He sought to conclude this experience with an intellectual interpretation, echoing his precious melancholy with fantasy and a promise of returning to the mountains.

Reference:

1. Blooming Alone in Winter by Gordon Osing, Julia Min and Huang Haipeng，published by the People's Publication House Henan Province in 1990 (《寒心未肯随春态》戈登.奥赛茵，闵晓红，黄海鹏) ("For how long now have these shores been altered by waves!/I climb a peak to look for my native place…./There are only the river, north and south, and mountainous green./Homesick, afraid, and finally, I remember my boat,/But the old monk bids me watch the sun go down./A light wind blows over the wide river, like a wavering sail.//The last of the clouds, mid-air, are red fishtails./And now the moon must five the river light;/Now midnight nears and day is deepest dark./What are those, torches? Out in mid-stream, burning?/What is it startling crow from his nightly home?//How sadly I go to bed, my heart not knowing/If it was spirit, trick, or man, or what it was./“Why not return here, it’s all so beautiful.”/The river god’s mystery accuses foolish me./I thank his silver mercies, what else can I do?/If I’ve a land an don’t abide there, make me this river)

3. painting from Google；

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