红梅 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 新版及赏析: 闵晓红(2023) 怕愁贪睡独开迟， 自恐冰容不入时。 故作小红桃杏色， 尚余孤瘦雪霜姿。 寒心未肯随春态， 酒晕无端上玉肌。 诗老不知梅格在， 更看绿叶与青枝。 The Plum Blossom   Chinese original: Su Shi English version: Julia Min ( 2023)   Timorous, a late riser, she blooms alone in snow, fearing her icy look belies the style she knows. So she paints a peach-apricot hue, velvet-soft, on her slender boughs, braving snow and frost.   Her shy pride in cold veins isn’t for spring crowds. Yet, what drink turns her pearl-pale face to pink? The old poet knows not her grace profound —  Her black boughs need no green to stand proud. Notes: The old poet: referring to Shi Manqing（石曼卿）who wrote the verses – Let it (the plum tree) be a peach tree though it bears no green leaves; let it be an apricot tree, but its branches are black.”(“认桃无绿叶，辨杏有青枝”). Su Shi mocks Manqing’s understanding here. Appreciation: Su Shi painted what he loved. In his exile years at Huangzhou — cold, isolated, far from court — he painted bamboo, rugged stones, and always, the plum. She appears in his art not as decoration, but as a mirror: knotted branches, solitary blossoms, a spirit that endures without breaking.   But here, the plum is not the bold first messenger of spring that poets usually celebrate. She is the last to bloom — hesitant, unsure, painting herself peach-pink as if to apologise for being out of fashion. We almost miss her, there among the frost.   And then we look closer.   Beneath that soft blush lies something unshakeable: "her shy pride in her cold veins." (玉骨冰心literal meaning: jade bones, icy heart.) A strength that needs no green leaves to prove itself. A spirit that stands alone, and stands enough.   My English version tries not to translate those words but to trace that journey — from self-doubt to quiet pride. The plum here is not a symbol. She is a presence. Timid at first, then still. Then proud. By the final line, she needs nothing from us. It is an act of listening — across centuries, across cultures — and finding that the same flower still blooms. 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) “The Plum Tree” -- Timorous, a late sleeper, she blooms alone in winter,/Fearing, too, her icy look’s not the style of the season./So she sets out to make herself up like apricot petals,/On branches haggard from toughing the frosts and snow./Her heart’s cold doesn’t go with the fashions of spring./What does she drink that turns pure jade skin so happy a pink?/The old poet couldn’t change you to peach by any wish;/You can’t change a black bough or a leaf from what it deeply is. ”) 2. Baike.baidu.com (百度百科) 2. Picture from 博宝艺术网

满庭芳 . 蜗角虚名 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 英译: 闵晓红(2023.12) 蜗角虚名，蝇头微利，算来著甚干忙。 事皆前定，谁弱又谁强。 且趁闲身未老，尽放我、些子疏狂。 百年里，浑教是醉，三万六千场。 思量，能几许？忧愁风雨，一半相妨。 又何须抵死，说短论长。 幸对清风皓月，苔茵展、云幕高张。 江南好，千钟美酒，一曲满庭芳。 Why all this hustle for a bubble of fame   --to the tune “Vibrant Garden”   Chinese original: Su Shi (11th Century) English version: Julia Min (Dec. 2023)  Why all this hustle and bustle for a bubble of fame— as mighty as a fly’s eye, as tiny as a snail’s brain? Your fate was already set well before you came. So why still so obsessed with loss and success?   If I were blessed with a long age— a 100-year life span to spend, I’d set this soul free, let it be breezy and gay,     with 36000 rounds of nice wines, and 36000 sweet dreams at night.   Just think again, list out all the good and bad days, You’ll find half spent in sorrow, taken by the wind and rain. The River South here is a haven for pleasure and for social grace. Then, why spend this human life, Judging in complaint till strained?    Let’s party on the moss-laid carpet, dancing the wind of murmuring waves, with roaming clouds, a velvet canopy above, and the full moon, a glowing jade of love. Together we’d share many cups of fine drinks. Together, to the tune Vibrant Garden,  we sing, Notes: 1.     ‘a 100-year life span’: Chinese people believed that a standard life span is 100 years, and that an age over 80 is already regarded as a good ending, or, in other words, a reward for a blessed person. 2.     ‘River South’: here it refers to Hangzhou; Appreciation: The precise year of composition is yet to be confirmed—either around 1073 or, more likely, 1089 during Su Shi's second governorship of Hangzhou. Critics favour the later date: by then, he had endured banishment to Huangzhou, risen to the Emperor's Secretary General, and voluntarily left the Royal Court. The poem's deep philosophical grasp of fame and fate bears the weight of that journey.   Its structure is remarkable—a critical essay disguised as a lyric poem. Most poems usher the reader in through scene or description; this one strikes its subject from the first line, suggesting it may have been an immediate reaction to another work, or to the fierce cold war between his Old Party and the reformist New Party. The tone shifts dramatically—from a cynical indictment of power-chasing to spiritual freedom—coloured throughout by the sharp, like his father Su Xun’s essayistic style. The subject echoes Shakespeare's "All the world's a stage."   The poem was well received in the gentlemen's society, often recited at intellectual gatherings, and embraced equally by Daoists and Buddhists seeking to awaken from social attachments. It was carved on stone tablets across China, and several idioms derived from it still enrich the Chinese dictionary.   In my English version, "a bubble of fame" is inspired: it transforms the original's "虚名“（empty fame）into a visually engaging, immediate concept, while the rhyme of "mighty" and "tiny" in the opening couplet mirrors the original's paradoxical wit. The final image—"the full moon, a glowing jade of love"—honours both Chinese cultural resonance and English lyrical grace. Reference: 1. baike.baidu.com 2. picture from Google

定风波·常羡人间琢玉郎 （王定国歌儿曰柔奴，姓宇文氏，眉目娟丽，善应对，家世住京师。定国南迁归，余问柔：“广南风土， 应是不好？”柔对曰：“此心安处，便是吾乡。”因为缀词云。） 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 英译: 闵晓红(2024.01) 常羡人间琢玉郎， 天应乞与点酥娘。 尽道清歌传皓齿， 风起， 雪飞炎海变清凉。   万里归来年愈少 微笑， 笑时犹带岭梅香。 试问岭南应不好， 却道： 此心安处是吾乡。   My home is where my heart can find peace  -to the tune “After the Storm”   Chinese original: Su Shi（11th Century） English version: Julia Min（2024）   (My friend Dingguo Wang has a concubine named Rounu Yuwen. She was once a singing girl, beautiful and exceptionally eloquent. When Dingguo was banished to Hainan, she chose to go with him, leaving their home in the capital. I asked her: “Life in the southern wastelands must be very hard, isn’t it?” She replied, “ My home is where my heart can find peace.” Moved, I composed this ci poem.)   I often admire my friend, Dingguo, A man blessed with grace and more, A life companion—the fair lady Rounu, Whose voice comes from Heaven’s shore, Cool as a breeze across a snowing sea— A soothing relief in the summer heat.   Their life south must have worn her out, Yet on her face, no trace of time is found. She’s back younger, with a subtle fragrance— The grace of jade in Hainan plum blossoms. “How come?” I asked. She replied at ease: “My home is where my heart can find peace.” Appreciation: This ci was composed in late 1085, when Su Shi returned to the capital from Huangzhou—a time of political reunion for the recalled conservative faction. Wang ong (Dingguo) had completed his banishment on Hainan Island. His concubine, Rounu, like Su Shi's own Zhaoyun, endured the hardships of the desolate south. She was not only skilled in dance and song but also a doctor, trained by her father and his peers after her father was imprisoned through malicious intrigue. The poem is best known for its final line, which is not Su Shi's creation but Rounu's own words. Su Shi's genius lay in recognising the profundity of an ordinary woman's wisdom, preserving it without embellishment, and crafting a poem that frames it like a jewel in a simple setting. It has become a popular saying, keeping Dingguo and Rounu alive for a thousand years. A similar theme appears in the West—the English proverb "Home is where the heart is," or Erasure's 1989 hit "Blue Savannah": "My home is where the heart is / Sweet to surrender..." Reference: 古诗 文网 so.gushiwen.cn picture from 《希望之声》

初到黄州 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 英文版及赏析: 闵晓红(2023) 自笑平生为口忙， 老来事业转荒唐。 长江绕郭知鱼美， 好竹连山觉笋香。 逐客不妨员外置， 诗人例做水曹郎。 只惭无补丝毫事， 尚费官家压酒囊。 Upon Arriving at Huangzhou Chinese original： Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') English version： Julia Min (2023) My whole life feels like a farcical stage, Growing oddly funny now with old age. A busy life, with mouths for me to feed; A lousy outcome from silly words’ deed.   The Yangtse embraces the town in a loop, Where river fish should taste just as good. I can also see bamboo groves on the hills, Where I should find tender, earthy shoots.   An outcast is seen to excel on waterways. An attendant role will keep troubles at bay. The little work I do is not worth the pay. The wine grain Lord gave is such a waste! Notes: 1.     In a loop: the town of Huangzhou was then surrounded on three sides by the Yangtse River, resembling a peninsula. Today, after a thousand years of change, the river has become noticeably narrower, and its course must have shifted, as it is now about a mile away from the ancient town wall and the Red Cliff. 2.     The wine grain: referring to Su Shi’s wage as a banished official, usually 2/3 paid in material and only 1/3 in cash.  The material he received was just a bag of grain for making wine. Appreciation: In February 1080, Su Shi and his family arrived in exile at Huangzhou, a remote town far from the capital, after 130 days in prison. It marked a new beginning—much like the promising spring landscape they encountered travelling south from the Yellow River to the Yangtze, the land of fish and rice. You might expect a more docile man to emerge, which would have disappointed us. No, the near-death experience strengthened his stoicism and fortitude, infused with dark humour. This resilience inspired a frenzy of romantic poems, representing the peak of his literary output. His calligraphy from this period, carved in stone at Red Cliff, shows a liberated spirit compared to earlier works.   He has always been loved for his optimism. Bright and breezy even now, he dreams of tasty fish and sweet bamboo shoots despite his fallen fortunes. The underlying satire is unmistakable—you almost wish he could hold his tongue to avoid future misfortune. As we know, he was later banished twice more, eventually to "the end of the world" (Hainan Island)—the furthest border the emperor could find to keep Su Shi's mouth shut. Imagine how influential he was.   This translation attempts to prioritise voice over literalism, hoping to let Su Shi's irrepressible personality shine through. The opening couplet—"My whole life feels like a farcical stage, / growing strangely funny now with old age"—seeks to establish his wry self-awareness, while "silly words' deed" tries to preserve the famous pun on "为口忙" (busy for my mouth/in trouble from my mouth). The closing line, "The wine grain my Lord gave is such a waste!", aims to maintain the original's ironic gratitude—accepting the Emperor's provision while gently mocking his own worthlessness. 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) ( “ Upon Arriving at Huangzhou -- My mouth’s always busy -- eating, composing, or speaking out, / And now I’ve aged and my position turned ridiculous. / Oh well, the fish taste just as good on the edge of town, / Where the bamboo groves and the sweet shoots are the earthiest. / It matters little that I’m useless, banished, barely a guest; / Poets are known to make great inspectors of waterways. / And the work I do can’t touch the pay I get. / That bag of wine they send is surely wasted.”) 2. picture from Google

狱中寄子由 （予以事系御史台狱，狱吏稍见侵，自度不能堪，死狱中，不得一别子由，故作二诗授狱卒梁成，以遗子由，二首。） 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 新版及赏析: 闵晓红(2023) 其一 圣主如天万物春， 小臣愚暗自亡身。 百年未满先偿债， 十口无归更累人。 是处青山可埋骨， 他年夜雨独伤神。 与君世世为兄弟， 更结来生未了因 。 From Prison, to My Brother Zi You (Intro: Imprisoned in the Censorate, roughly treated. I may not survive, and fear I will never see my brother again. I have written two last poems and asked the guards to deliver them to Ziyou.) written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') Revision+ annot. by Julia Min (2023) (first poem) The emperor is Heaven, our living saint, Who, like spring, gives all a new beginning. But I, in ignorance, have sought my own ruin. This body, tho’ not old, must pay for the “sin”- A debt, perhaps, rolled over from a prior life. I am sorry to leave you with a house of ten.   Don't seek a famous peak to mark my grave. Any green hill mound can settle what remains. Sorry to leave you alone to future dark rains, I wish to be a better brother, a better gentleman, Not just in the next life, but in many to spend, To honour our ongoing sibling bond without end. For Appreciation: The year 1079 marked a turning point, not just for Su Shi, but for the freedom of speech that China had cherished for centuries. Arrested in Huzhou, he was unjustly sentenced to the grim confines of the Censorate, ominously nicknamed "the Crows' Court" (乌台). His crime? Poetry. Just words, written in good faith, twisted by opponents into treason.   For over three agonising months, he languished, gripped by dread for his family's safety and future. Then a cruel misunderstanding deepened his despair. Before his imprisonment, he had made a pact with his son, Su Mai: ordinary food meant safety; a fish dish would signal a death sentence. When Mai was unable to deliver messages himself, he sent a friend instead—who, unaware of the code, brought a beautiful fish. Su Shi received it as a sign. Convinced his execution was imminent, he wrote two poems as his final words to his brother Su Zhe (Ziyou).   At forty-four, with ten mouths depending on him, the poems that emerged read like a deathbed will—heavy with sorrow, love, and the quiet dignity of a man facing the end. He begins with the required reverence for the Emperor, but the gratitude with an underlined hope for "new beginnings" lands uneasily from a prison cell. Then comes the couplet that reveals his state of mind:   “Don't seek a famous peak to mark my grave.Any green hill mound can settle what remains.”   This is not false modesty, but acceptance—a man letting go of legacy, asking only to be covered and forgotten. The satire some readers find here, that a famous poet's grave would become a peak whether he wished it or not, is present, but subtly muted. What matters more is what follows:   “I am sorry to leave you with a house of ten.”   The poem closes with a promise across lifetimes: to be a better brother, not just in the next life but in many to come. The fish that delivered false news had done its damage. But the words it inspired would survive—and so, as it happened, would Su Shi.   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) ( “ From Prison to my Brother Zi You" – "Noble Emperor Shengzong be praised! Everything is in spring./ Political foolishness brought me down this road to doom./ I’m not old yet, and still ask you to pay my debts. / I trouble you with my ten mouths to feed, and no home. / My body you can bury any place the hills are green. / A year from now you’ll grieve alone on nights it rains./ Listen, in this life and the next we will be brothers./ Our love’s not finished, not in this world or any other.”) 2. picture from the magazine

陈季常所蓄《朱陈村嫁娶图》 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 旧版英译:戈登.奥赛茵, 闵晓红, 黄海鹏(1990) 新版及赏析: 闵晓红(2023) 我是朱陈旧使君， 劝农曾入杏花村。 而今风物哪堪画， 县吏催钱夜打门！ “A Wedding Ceremony in Zhu Chen Village” - a painting collected by my friend Chen Jichang written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') old En. trans. by G. Osing, J. Min & H. Huang (1990) Revision+ annot. by Julia Min (2023) It was a village nestled in blooming apricot trees. As their governor, I cheered on men in their fields. Today, nothing there is the same as in this painting, Officers pound on the doors, hounding for tax money. Appreciation: On his way to Huangzhou after being released from prison, Su Shi passed Meicheng County and was lodged in the house of his friend Chen Jichang. There he was caught by the painting as alluded to in the poem. The country life was painted in the beautiful village dotted with apricot trees in full bloom - - a cozy memory he shared as he once inspected the village as their governor of Xuzhou. Unfortunately, such a joyous scene was no longer seen ever since the New Law was enacted, where the demanding officers would now take only cash not a share of crops for tax payment. Su Shi couldn’t help but sigh over the contrast, an obvious implication of his political stand with the common people. 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) ( “ n the Painting “Wedding Ceremony in Zhu Chen Village” --“I am Zhu Chen’s old local governor;/ I cheered on the peasants of Apricot-flower village in their fields.”/But today’s scene: how could it be the same painting?/Officials want only money, beat night into farmers’ doors. ”) 2. picture from Google

出狱（二首） （十二月二十八日蒙恩责授检校水部员外郎黄州团练副使, 复用前韵二首） 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 旧版英译:戈登.奥赛茵, 闵晓红, 黄海鹏(1990) 新版及赏析: 闵晓红(2023) 其二： 平生文字为吾累， 此去声名不厌低。 塞上纵归他日马， 城东不斗少年鸡。 休官彭泽贫无酒， 隐几维摩病有妻。 堪笑睢阳老从事， 为予投檄到江西。 （子由闻余下狱，乞以官爵赎余罪，贬筠州监酒。） Released from Prison (Poem Two) (Intro: I’m saved by the Emperor’s grace and granted to be relegated to the role of an assistant in the water section of the Engineer Department in the town of Huangzhou, hence these two poems upon the release.) written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') Revision+ annot. by Julia Min (2023) My very words have brought me this plight. Better be away, and let my fame set to fade. I am not the boy favoured for his cockfight. The lost horse’s return is bad luck in disguise.   Too sick like Mojie,the Buddhist with a wife. Too broke for wine like Tao Qian, who retired. My silly brother left Suiyang to pay for my sin, Stuck in some job in the sticks of Jiangxi Shire.   (Notes: My brother Ziyou pleaded for mercy before the Throne upon the news of my imprisonment. He petitioned to be punished on my behalf, thus being banished to a minor job as a wine supervisor at Junzhou, Jiangxi.) Notes: 1. A lost horse returned with her Hun mate: the well-known story of a man in a village bordering the Huns. He had a horse go astray across the border (塞翁失马，焉知非福), and his neighbours came to comfort him, only to hear him say: It looks so unfortunate that I lost a mare. Who knows? It could bring a good outcome. Before long, the mare returned with a stallion from the Hun land. Everyone in the village came to celebrate, but the old man responded: it is such a blessing to have my horse back with another horse, but who knows, it could be the start of a coming misfortune. The deeper philosophy behind the fable reveals the universal rules of change --- the rising and the falling are each other’s company, a constant phenomenon of duality.   2. The Tang cockfight boy: referring to the story of the Tang Dynasty Emperor Xuanzong, whose favourite game was cockfighting, so the capital city Chang’an saw a boom in cockfighting. There was one boy who was very talented at the game and soon won the Majesty’s favour. So the saying became popular – “You don’t have to study hard to succeed. A few cockfighting tricks can get you close to the supreme power.”   3. Tao Yuanmin: a famous poet celebrated for his personality. Born into a family of civil servants to the Royal Court, he served as a government official, but his love for a carefree, secluded Daoist life in the country eventually led him to quit Pengze, the county where he had served for some 80 days as the Head of the prefecture.   4. Wang Mojie more likely refers to the famous poet Wang Wei (social name: Mojie, an influence of his mother, who was a Buddhist and held Monk Weimojie in high regard). He had the same experience of imprisonment, and his brother pleaded for mercy for the ‘sin’, willing to take a minor post as a punishment on Mojie’s behalf. Wang Wei had only one wife and never remarried after her death, which was unusual but respected as a rare quality in ancient China. Appreciation: Like an exquisite artwork crafted with flowers and figures, this short poem is enriched with four legendary stories. The first, ‘A lost horse…’, offers a deeper, self-possessed insight into the rules of change governing the ups and downs of life. The second, ‘the Tang cockfight boy’, conveys his choice to remain truthful rather than be a courtier trying to please the emperor. The following two figures, Yuanmin and Mojie, show the personality he’s to maintain despite poverty and poor health. A noble man of integrity and courage indeed! No wonder he had so many followers throughout the centuries.   Again, the poem is structured with a shift from the scene to his theme, with the first stanza describing what he experienced, followed by what he thought in the 2nd stanza. The rapids ride is highlighted by his wild imagination, a stream of consciousness that jumps from a falcon to a rabbit to lightning in a bottle. Vivid pictures flash one after another, matching the chasing pace of the leaping boat – a clever arrangement for a stronger artistic play on the heartbeats of the readership. Another feature is the Zen humour in quietude sensed in the concluding couplet about Master Can Liao, a poet and essayist among many of his Daoist monk friends. There’s a whole chapter about Can Liao visiting him at Huangzhou, followed by interesting and touching stories that I’d share at another time.  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) ( “ Relegated to the Position of Assistant Inspector of Canals -- It’s writing that’s been my problem all my life./ I’m out of the capital; who cares if my fame declines!/ The horse returning to the fort brings bad luck to the old man./ I’m not the boy who pleases the king with cockfights in olden times.// Tao Yuanmin resigned and ended up too broke to buy wine./Wei Mo, the Buddhist, too ill to let go of his table, had yet a wife./ My brother’s quit post at Suiyang (for my shame) makes me laugh;/ He took a minor job in the sticks in Jiangxi, on my behalf. ”) 2. 其一： 百日归期恰及春，余年乐事最关身。 出门便旋风吹面，走马联翩鹊啅人。 却对酒杯浑是梦，试拈诗笔已如神。 此灾何必深追咎，窃禄从来岂有因。 3. 百度百科 4.木石文 苏轼诗文品鉴 5. picture from Google；

李思训画《长江绝岛图》 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 新版及赏析: 闵晓红(2023) 山苍苍,水茫茫， 大孤小孤江中央。 崖崩路绝猿鸟去， 唯有乔木搀天长。（chān tiān zháng） 客舟何处来？ 棹歌中流声抑扬。（zhào gē） 沙平风软望不到， 孤山久与船低昂。 峨峨两烟寰， 晓镜开新妆。 舟中贾客莫漫狂， 小姑前年嫁彭郎。 Little Orphan in the Heart of Yangtse River -An ekphrasis on Li Sixun’s painting written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') Revision+ annot. by Julia Min (2023) Along the rolling hills, across the lush green, A river winds beyond in rippling gleam. At the heart, standing proud in the stream— Two islands: Little Orphan and Big Orphan.   Since when the cliff road collapsed into ruins? The monkeys left; only birds’ nests are seen. The trees hold fast, growing free without fear, The limbs go upward, seeking Starry River.   There, a boat, fully loaded with men, appeared, Rowing out and singing aloud to Little Orphan. The waves roll them up and down at the centre, Fending her clean sandy beach from intruders.   She tried new hair-buns in the morning mirror. The boat, rowing in and rolling out, gets no nearer. Well, hold your mind from going wild, tradesmen! She is married to Peng Rock, there in the river. Notes: 1. Little Orphan and Big Orphan: Little Orphan Island is located at the feeding point where Boyang Lake water flows into the Yangtse River, whereas Big Orphan Island is many miles away. They are so named based on legendary stories. Both appear in the painting, so I figure it could be a horizontal scroll showing a broad riverscape of the islands, the boat, the rock, and the surrounding hills, remarkably touched with green and blue colours favoured by the famous painter. 2. tradesmen: tradesmen had always been lowly regarded for their sly morality as profit seekers, hence the name is often used to refer to men of a sly nature. ‘sly’ is deliberately added for a better understanding of a concept unique to China. 3. Peng rock: a Chinese homonym for the rock named Peng Lang (meaning Wave Rock). The syllables sound the same in Chinese as 彭郎, meaning Mr Peng, the young Lad. The pun is lost in translation, but the symbolic meaning is well preserved. Our poet drew on popular folklore in which the young lad named Peng Lang married his aunt, a young girl he was famously in love with. Today, the Little Orphan Island, together with the Peng Lang Rock, is at the top of the list of scenic spots on the Yangtse River. Appreciation: What strikes me here is the extra values the poet added to the painting. I figure Su Shi was probably approached by the painting's owner for the honour of writing an ekphrasis. The painter and the painting were already very famous. With Su Shi's poem, you could imagine the value of this art piece could rise like a rocket in the market. And indeed, Su Shi met expectations there in 1078, and it has been cherished since then as one of the best examples of ekphrasis. Unfortunately, the painting is no longer extant; only Su Shi's poem and many other writings about the work are available to attest to its existence.     It could be a panoramic view with lush green mountains on one side and a vast river dotted with two islands, a couple of boats, and a big blueish rock nestled on the other bank. Familiar with the local sites and the folklore behind them, Su Shi, however, had many vivid stories playing in his romantic heart -- the love story, a beauty dressing up in the river mirror, the monkeys and birds of the past, and the passengers' admiration for the beauty, and even the gently dancing waves had an intention of fending off the boat from her presence.    Everything in the painting has come to life streaming before our eyes, thanks to the rich message between the lines, and many more... hence why the Chinese say the poet can 'paint' the painting with words while the painter can 'write' the poetic painting with ink. You can’t find a better example than this -- Li Sixun created a painting with a poetic mind, while Su Shi composed the poem with the painting and the stories in his imagination.    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) ( “ On Li Sixun’s Painting ' Beautiful islands in the Changjiang '”--They’re the darkest of greens, where the river sails from sight;/Dagu and Xiaogu, they divide the river between/Where the cliff-road’s collapse scared the monkeys and birds away/And only wild groves raise their limbs now to the sky./ Little launch on the river, do you sail out of nowhere?/Listen, your crew are singing deeply as they row./I see smooth sands, hear breezes, but can’t say where you go./I see you see the mountains grandly rise and fall beyond the waves./What phantom lady’s crowning glory dances in the smoke and haze?/But see, she dresses in her silver morning mirror – I’ll/Ask you tradesmen, keep your thoughts from running wild./The girl’s already married, to Peng Rock, there in the river. ”) 2. picture from the magazine Painting and Calligraphy Art 《书画艺术》via baike.baidu.com；

百步洪 (王定国访余于彭城，一日，棹小舟与颜长道携盼、英、卿三子，游泗水，北上圣女山，南下百步洪，吹笛饮酒，乘月而归。余时以事不得往，夜著羽衣，伫立于黄楼上，相视而笑。以为李太白死，世间无此乐三百余年矣。定国既去逾月，复与参寥师放舟洪下，追怀曩游，以为陈迹，岿然而叹。故作二诗，一以遗参寥，一以寄定国，且示颜长道、舒尧文邀同赋云。) 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 新版及赏析: 闵晓红(2023) 长洪斗落生跳波，轻舟南下如投梭， 水师绝叫凫雁起，乱石一线争搓磨。 有如兔走鹰隼落，骏马下注千丈坡。 断弦离柱箭脱手，飞电过隙珠翻荷。 四山眩转风掠耳，但见流沫生千涡。 险中得乐虽一快，何异水伯夸秋河。 我生乘化日夜逝，坐觉一念愈新罗。 纷纷争夺醉梦里，岂信荆棘埋铜驼。 觉来俯仰失千劫，回视此水殊委蛇。 君看岸边苍石上，古来篙眼如蜂窠。 但应此心无所住，造物虽驶如吾何。 回船上马各归去，多言饶饶师所呵。 The 100-Step River Rapids’ Ride written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') Revision+ annot. by Julia Min (2023) (Intro: My friend Wang Dingguo came to visit me in Peng City, Xuzhou. Tied up with work, I arranged for Yan Changdao and three courtesans—Pan, Ying, and Qing—to accompany him on a Hundred-Step Rapids Ride. They boated down the River Si, paid homage to Mount Saint, then rode the rapids for the thrill of it—a happy day of flute music and wine, returning in the moonlight. I greeted them at the Yellow Pavilion in my light robe, and we carried on the joy with more drinks. It felt like catching Li Bai's spirit, missing for over 300 years. How could I have missed it! Dingguo's been gone a month now, and the yearning's grown strong, so I invited my monk friend Can Liao for another Rapids trip. What an experience! Here's the result—two poems: one for Can Liao, one for Dingguo. I've also shared them with Yan Changdao and Shu Raowen for their thoughts.)   The river suddenly plunges over treacherous stones, A small boat, a shuttle in a loom, darts down alone - Like a falcon diving for the rabbit that breaks free, Like a stallion galloping down a long rugged slope, Like a string snapped on the qin, lightning in a bottle, Like dew rolling off lotus leaf, the flight of an arrow. Her crew cry out orders as the wild geese take wing. Southward they zig-zag, leaping down the stream. The surrounding hills reel round, ears filled with wind Till the rapids end, whirlpools of white foam swirling. The thrill of danger is pure joy, the swifter the better, It’s nothing but the River Lord, exulting in his water.   My own life is swept away with nights and days. One flash of thought may drift to a place far away. We strain for fame in a big sea of drunken dreams. A palace fallen to thistles and thorns, who foresees? All lifetimes spin like whirlpools till awakening, A close call, if blessed, from torrents to still stream. You can see both banks lined with dark green stones, Riddled like a honeycomb, deep with punters’ holes. I’d free this self from an earthly being to a beingless, To outwit the Creator’s design that navigates mankind. We’d better stop for the shore, each to his own horse. My friend Master Can has no patience for blabby talk. Notes: 1. ‘the qin’: a Chinese musical instrument with 7 strings, very popular in the Song dynasty. In fact, it was considered a must for the gentlemen’s society. Yes, it was played by men, as music and art were regarded as two main qualities in a gentleman’s taste for life. 2. ‘River Lord’: referring to the Daoist saint figure Zhuang Zi’s book Rivers in Autumn, a story about the Lord of the Yellow River, who was very proud of His destructive power when His river flooded in Autumn, until He reached the East Sea, where He realised His river was nothing compared with the broad sea. The implication here is that, as humans with limited senses in a short lifetime, we are like a frog at the bottom of a well, unable to see beyond the bigger picture of mankind and the universe. 3. ‘flash thought’: or ‘a flash of thought’, as against this physical body of this life, an invisible thought can travel far and wide, and much quicker than the rapids. 4. ‘being… beingless’: the same implication as above, a free soul detached from the physical world, the earthly joy and glory, to become an awakened spirit. Appreciation: Have you ever tried rafting down a river's rapids for the thrill of it? If so, any hindsight gained about life and death?   The 100-Step Rapids Ride was a popular tourist destination in the southeast of Peng City. If every experience in this world is meant for us to learn and grow, then perhaps no one has gained a better insight into life than Su Shi on a rafting ride. This poem was written in 1078, when Su Shi was the governor of Xuzhou. We all know that Daoist philosophy has coloured his life like the yellow in the great artist Van Gogh’s works, evoking a feeling closer to nature, a cosy oyster cove. The conflict between returning to the mountains and pursuing glory has been a lifelong battle for Su Shi, a theme that runs through his artistic works. He is just one example among many, ancient and modern, of the everlasting conflict between physical pursuit and spiritual aspiration, which plays out every day. This world of Earth is perhaps, as some say, a school to help us transcend from physical to spiritual, so the presence of duality was born in the Creator’s work as the essence of every phenomenon. The theme reminds me of another poem by Su Shi, “To Zhang Woquan, at the Bracing Pavilion of Huangzhou” (《水调歌头 黄州快哉亭赠张偓佺》), which was written just a couple of years later.   Again, the poem is structured with a shift from scene to theme, with the first stanza describing what he experienced, followed by what he thought in the 2nd stanza. The rapids ride is highlighted by his wild imagination, a stream of consciousness that jumps from a falcon to a rabbit to lightning in a bottle. Vivid pictures flash one after another, matching the chasing pace of the leaping boat – a clever arrangement for a stronger artistic play on the readers’ heartbeats. Another feature is the Zen humour in quietude sensed in the concluding couplet about Master Can Liao, a poet and essayist among many of his Daoist monk friends. There’s a whole chapter about Can Liao visiting him at Huangzhou, followed by interesting and touching stories that I’d share at another time.  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) ( “ “Baibuhong” --The great river falls suddenly to a tumult of waters,/ Southward a light boat flies, hurled like a shuttle, / Her crew crying out orders and excitements, the wild ducks rising,/ Scarcely missing the rocks scattered everywhere in their flying./ Like a rabbit breaks when the falcon dives for him,/ Like a stallion gallops down into a boundless valley,/ Like a string snapped on a qin, like an arrow shot from the hand,/ Like lightning they zig-zag, they drop, like a pearl off a lotus. / Between four walls of mountains they spin with wind-filled ears,/ Seeing nothing but swirling foam and countless whirlpools;/ But the danger is pure joy to them, the swifter the better./ What difference is it if the Autumn God exults in his river?// My own life is swept away with nights and days disappearing;/ I see now one thought may end in a far-away land./ We strain and squeeze for fame and power in a drunken dream,/ Who don’t foresee thorns and thistles will bury the palace doors./ When they wake up, they’ll have lost a thousand years./ Behind me here the river has never ceased winding./ You can see both banks lined with dark green stones/ Riddled with punting holes from way back, honeycombed./ Out there somewhere’s “the crowd”; why should I worry about changes?/ Did the creator, who sails the whole thing, aim my heart?/ Let’s leave the boat to her fate and return to the horses;/ My monk-friend won’t stand for long lessons on which world is home. ”) 2. picture from 无犀之谈 via Google；

寒食雨二首 原作：苏轼 英译+注解：闵晓红 其一 自我來黃州，已過三寒食。 年年欲惜春，春去不容惜。 今年又苦雨，兩月秋蕭瑟。 臥聞海棠花，泥污燕支雪。 暗中偷負去，夜半真有力。 何殊病少年，病起頭已白。 Meditating on a Rainy Cold-Food Festival Chinese original: Su Shi (1082) English version: Julia Min (2022)   Poem One   Three years have now elapsed in a flash since my banishment to this hinterland. Huangzhou also knows the return of Spring, yet the spirit’s sapped before the full swing. On the flooded land, rain pours in torrents, as cold as dark autumn, the March east wind.   In sickbed, I hear the pink crabapple is green, all ripped bare by treacherous wind and rain, like a youth grey-haired by a deadly disease, like a beauty taken at night by invisible hands. Her rouge-snow petals fall to mud overnight. As ever, the Creator's spell is beyond mankind. Notes: 1. Huangzhou, an old town on the Yangtze River, witnessed Su Shi’s greatest stumble – The Poetry Case at the Crows Court, so called because everyone knew it was a set-up against their beloved Su Shi. Yet it was here that he fulfilled his worldview, which gave birth to most of his masterpieces. 2. rouge-snow: the Yanzhi Mountain, where the soil is red. When it snows, the surface looks pink, a detail often used by writers to imply young beauties. 其二 春江欲入戶，雨勢來不已。 小屋如漁舟，濛濛水雲裏。 空庖煮寒菜，破竈燒溼葦。 那知是寒食，但見烏銜紙。 君門深九重，墳墓在萬里。 也擬哭途窮，死灰吹不起。 Poem Two The Yangtze roars, cresting along the shore. Sky hangs low, claiming the season’s rainfall. Barely visible, this small place called home, floating at ease in the mist, like a fishing boat. The kitchen is empty, save for some veggies, and in the broken stove, some damp fire-reeds.   A crow flies past with paper money unburned. Suddenly, I realise the day’s fire is forbidden. Out of reach, the Crown in the Forbidden City; thousands of miles away, the tombs of my kin. Like Yuan Ji, I weep at the road’s dead end — I grieve the soaked ash: no flame can rise again. Notes: 1.     Palace forbidden : the Royal Palace, a metonym for the imperial court and political power, inaccessible to the poet in exile; 2.     Yuan Ji (阮籍) : the leading figure of the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove  during the Three Kingdoms period. Tradition holds that Yuan Ji would often weep upon reaching the end of a road, lamenting his unrecognised talent and unfulfilled ambition—an image Su Shi invokes to mirror his own frustration and political exclusion. Appreciation: Dongpo wrote this poem in Huangzhou three years after his release from prison, following the famous Poetry Case at the Crows Court, a false charge lodged by his political rivals. Written during exile, the poem reflects a moment of ritual restraint, political distance, and private grief converging on the Cold Food Festival, when fire was forbidden, and ancestral offerings could not be properly made.   The poem was inscribed on a long handscroll measuring 199.5 cm × 34.2 cm. Its calligraphy, executed in a powerful semi-cursive script, conveys not only the poem’s emotional tension but also the immediacy of Dongpo’s state of mind. Over time, the calligraphic work has eclipsed the poem in fame and is widely regarded as one of the three greatest masterpieces of Chinese semi-cursive script.   The original scroll is now preserved in the National Palace Museum, Taiwan, and remains accessible today. It bears handwritten commentaries by Huang Tingjian, Emperor Gaozong of the Southern Song dynasty, and numerous distinguished figures throughout history. Together, the poem, calligraphy, and accumulated responses form an irreplaceable cultural artefact—an enduring testament to Su Shi’s artistic, moral, and historical stature. Reference: 1. picture from google.com

千秋岁 . 次韵少游 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(2025) 岛外天边，未老身先退。 珠泪溅，丹衷碎。 身摇苍玉佩，色重黄金带。 一万里，斜阳正与长安对。 道远谁云会，罪大天能盖。 君命重，臣节在。 新恩犹可觊，旧学终难改。 吾已矣，乘桴且凭浮于海。 A New Poem to Echo Shaoyou’s Ci Rhymes   （to the tune ‘Live a Thousand Years’） written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') En. trans. by Julia Min (May.2025)  To the end of the world I’m driven; Across this strait is Hainan Island. Tears, the last gift of loyalty, are drained, With a dim hope of being resummoned.   This gentleman is still in reasonable shape. Spotless is his gold belt and jade pendant. With Chang’an’s vibes this sunset rhymes, A thousand miles towards the mainland.   The Emperor’s order can be a challenge, But I warrant his courtier’s value retained. To quiet my voice, the distance functions. My ‘Sins’ are contained, so no concern.   Maybe no luck to change an old-school nut, Even if I could be so blessed and pardoned. Better go floating on the sea, like Confucius. I’m done with ambition and done with illusion. For Appreciation: This was composed in the year 1100, just before Su Shi crossed the Qiongzhou Strait. There, he received a newly written ci-poem from Shaoyou. It was a downturn period when all his followers of the Old Party were banished even further from the Capital. This ci-lyric is recognised as the last spark of his heroic poems. It feels a bit stretched, though, when compared with his other heroic poems such as “Hunting at Mizhou”《密州出猎》or “Meditating on the Past at Red Cliff”《念奴娇.赤壁怀古》. The political punishment had taken its toll on his ambitious spirit, though he made an effort to comfort Shaoyou (Qin Guan, his favourite student). The fire in his spirit waned, then flared, and in the end became detached, enriched with a cynical, self-ridiculing humour. A similar scenario often appears in other artistic forms, particularly in Chinese calligraphy, where even a subtle change in style can reveal fundamental shifts in the artist’s mental state, as calligraphy cannot be disguised with colours or other properties.  The last two lines enrich our association with the great saint Confucius, highlighting Su Shi’s mindset of living a detached life as a commoner.  Reference: baike.baidu.com

吴中田妇叹 (和贾收韵) 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 新版英译及赏析: 闵晓红(2023) 今年粳稻熟苦迟，庶见霜风来几时。 霜风来时雨如泻，杷头出菌镰生衣。 眼枯泪尽雨不尽，忍见黄穗卧青泥！ 茅苫一月垅上宿，天晴获稻随车归。 汗流肩赪载入市，价贱乞与如糠粞。 卖牛纳税拆屋炊，虑浅不及明年饥。 官今要钱不要米，西北万里招羌儿。 龚黄满朝人更苦，不如却作河伯妇。 A Peasant Woman’s Complaint at Huzhou — in echo to the rhymes of Jia Shou’s poem   written by: Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') En. trans.+ annot. by Julia Min ( Feb. 2023)   This sinica rice grows mighty slow this year.  The frosty wind comes before grain matures. Then comes the rain, a long and lashing one. My sickle’s rusted, my rake mossed and worn. To see a harvest sunk in mud, I cannot bear. For a month, I stay on-site to drain the water. The rain soaks the field, but can’t wash my tears. As it clears, I reap what’s left in pain and sweat, And load my cart and carry it to the market.   Then I find the price as low as chaff there. “To pay the Huns far away in the northwest.” They take cash for tax, not grain, this year, I have to sell my ox and wreck my house here, to settle the tax and get wood for the winter. Nothing’s left, what shall I do for next year? They say the Court’s full of worthy courtiers Like Gong and Huang — yet my lot is no better like the sacrificed wife to Lord Yellow River. Notes: 1.     ‘To echo the rhymes’: (‘heshi’ or ‘heyun’), a poem composed in the same rhyming pattern as another poem to show appreciation; I have not been able to find anything like this in the English-speaking world, so I call it ‘an echo poem’, or, here in full, ‘to echo the rhymes of’ or ‘in echo to the rhymes of’. 2.     The Huns: a nationality in the north-west of the Song territory. There had been disorders and invasions along the north-west borders, and Wang Anshi, the leader of the New Law, pursued a policy of pacifying the Huns by offering money and silk. This unintelligent, weak attitude enraged many patriotic people of the time. 3.     Lord Gong and Lord Huang: Lord Gong Sui and Lord Huang Bai, two highly respected officials from the Han Dynasty; 4.     Yellow River: here refers to the God of the Yellow River, to whom a sacrifice was made in times of flood in ancient China. It was believed that a beautiful girl, drowned as the sacrificed wife, could please the river god and stop the flood. Similar practices also occurred in other countries in ancient times. Appreciation: This poem was written in 1072 in Huzhou, about 80 kilometres from Hangzhou, an advanced agricultural region. It’s an overtly political satire, using a peasant’s voice to convey experience, like Jonathan Swift’s Modest Proposal.   The subject matter focuses on the common people – the miseries of farmers saddled with armaments and high taxes, yet receiving no relief from an indifferent government, even in times of natural disaster. The New Law proved to be a hasty effort, resulting in severe consequences in many parts of the country. For a change, the peasants were required to pay their taxes in cash rather than in commodities. Such themes were quite popular at the time. Every Song courtier from the Royal Court, as well as every official dispatched to districts, had a taste for poetry, as it was part of the Imperial Exam, a gateway to becoming a civil servant. You could imagine the impact of a collective output of poems by high officials in the gentlemen’s society, on top of the many reports to the Emperor.   It’s interesting to know this poem was composed in the same rhyme as Su Shi’s friend Jia Shou’s poem. Soon after, Su Shi’s brother Su Zhe echoed it with a new poem in the same rhyming pattern. It was an intellectual game very popular back then. 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) ("My field of japonica rice won’t make it this year;/ Any night now come the killing frost and wind,/ And with the wind will surely come great rains./ The rakes will rot and cobwebs grow in our sickles/ I’m exhausted with drying my eyes and endless rains.// I can’t bear the sight of the harvest dead in the mud./I lived in my fields for a month digging ditches for drains./ As soon as it quit I came back with my cart loaded down./I sweated the pain in my shoulders and got it to town./ But the price was so low at the market it could have been chaff./ The cattle paid taxes and I burned the rafters for lunch.// So much for this year and forget food for the winter./ It’s cash not rice the boys in the capital need./ How else will they pay for the army they need in the north!/Judge Gong and Judge Huang can’t hear all the bitterest sad cases./ My life’s good as being the river God’s sacrificed wife.") 2. pictures from Google；