望江南·春未老  （ 超然台作） 原作：【宋】苏轼 (11th Century) 英译：闵晓红（ 2025） 春未老，风细柳斜斜。 试上超然台上望， 半壕春水一城花。 烟雨暗千家。 寒食后，酒醒却咨嗟。 休对故人思故国， 且将新火试新茶。 诗酒趁年华。 When Spring is not yet old (written on the Transcending Tower) - to the tune of Wangjiangnan   original composed by: Su Dong-po (11th Century) English version by Julia Min ( 2025) When Spring is not yet old, Soft wind gently kissing the willows, Come to the Transcending Tower with me, To see the town’s blooms embraced by the moat. Gleaming through the misty rain on many homes. After Forbidden Fire, a day of cold, I woke up, still a little tipsy, full of woes. Why all this sentiment among friends of old? Let's try the new tea brewed on the new wood, And spend our best years tasting wine and poems. Picture retrieved from Google Appreciation: Perched in Mizhou (modern Zhucheng, Shandong) stands the Transcending Tower, a structure rebuilt by Su Shi during his governorship and named by his beloved brother, Su Zhe. In the spring of 1076, from this vantage point, Su Shi watched a scene that stirred a profound meditation on memory and belonging. It was the time of the Festival of Forbidden Fires, a two-day period preceding Qingming. This festival recalls the ancient, tragic tale of Zi-tui, a loyal follower so wounded by his king's neglect that he chose to perish in a mountain fire rather than accept a belated reward. For Su Shi, this story of ultimate sacrifice and honour cast a long shadow. As the living paid tribute to their ancestors—tidying tombs and honouring the dead—the traveller Su Shi felt the ache of absence. In his masterpiece, he transforms the universal symbols of the season—the fresh willows, the spring flowers, the moat's reflective waters—into something intensely personal. This is not merely a description of a scene, but a soul's lament. He imbues the landscape with his own longing, achieving a lyrical intimacy that a Western reader would instantly recognise as profoundly Romantic. One can almost hear an echo of Wordsworth in his solitary gaze, finding the universal within the deeply personal. Notes: 1. “chao ran tai” : Heavenward Pagoda, or Transcending Platform; 2.“han shi” : Cold Food Festival, two days before Qingming Festival. People were not allowed to make fires, so no hot food on that day. 3. ‘ 斜’and ‘嗟’ ：the modern pinyin doesn’t rhyme in the poem, so these two, I reckon, are likely pronounced as ‘xiá’ and ‘jiā’ in the Song Capital Bianliang ( today’s Kaifeng city in Henan Province). 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) “From Heavenward Pavilion – to the tune of Wangjiangnan – The spring is not yet old and a soft wind mixes the willow branches./Come up onto Heavenward Pavilion to see with me,/ See the half-full moat this Spring, watering a whole city’s blooms./The fog and mists of the Spring rains envelope so many homes./After the Festival of Forbidden Fires. I woke-up drunk, turned-over, and sighed,/Don’t think about homesickness when you’re with old friends./Let’s make a fresh fire and boil new tea together./How fine to spend our best years drinking poems and wine.” Pinying and Word -For-Word Translation: wàng jiāng nán - the musical tune for this ci poem（Looking at South of the River） （chāo rán tái zuò ）- (write on Transcending Platform) chūn wèi lǎo - spring not yet old， fēng xì liǔ xiá xiá - wind soft willows swaying back and forth。 shì shàng chāo rán tái shàng wàng - try go up to transcending platform to see， bàn háo chūn shuǐ yī chéng huā - half full moat spring waters a whole town flowers。 yān yǔ àn qiān jiā - smoke rain gloomy thousand homes。 hán shí hòu - after the Cold Food Festival, jiǔ xǐng què zī jiā - drunk awake but sigh。 xiū duì gù rén sī gù guó - stop before old friend miss home / native place， qiě jiāng xīn huǒ shì xīn chá - let's try new fire to new tea， shī jiǔ chèn nián huá -poems wine spend golden years。

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

I Can Live Without Meat in Food (for Monk Huijue at his Green Bamboo Veranda) Chinese original: Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Zizhan', art name 'Dongpo') English translation & annotation: Julia Min (Jan. 2025) I can live without meat in food, But can’t without bamboo in view. Without meat body will lose weight, Without bamboo life will lose taste. It’s easy to gain a good weight, But not so to gain a good taste. It seems a stubborn lofty pretence, And you may laugh at what I say. If you munch in his noble presence, You won’t ascend the Yangzhou Crane. Su Shi's painting on stone and bamboo Notes: Yangzhou Crane: borrowed from a story in The Fables of Ying Yun（《殷云小说》）, where a group of ambitious young gentlemen boasted about their future plans in Yangzhou. One wished to attain a high position in the government, another said he would become extremely wealthy, but the third wanted to fill his pockets with silver and gold and fly a crane to the immortal world. Well, you know the result -- the crane wouldn't be able to fly with a heavy load. You can't have everything in life. Analysis:   This little poem serves as another example of the Song’s way of presenting profound philosophical ideas through simple, everyday language. As a result, the first four lines have become idiomatic expressions in Chinese. The poem reads like prose, with a tone that contrasts the theme of virtuous pursuit with vulgar tastes in human life, or perhaps offers an insight into the awareness of the ultimate purpose in this lifetime. The bamboo tree has been recognised as one of the Four Gentlemen (along with plum blossom, chrysanthemum, and orchid) in China. It symbolises noble elegance, upright honesty, and steadfast loyalty.   Yu Qian was a county within the territory of Lin'an City (in Hangzhou). There was a temple where Su Shi often spent time with Monk Huijue. The two friends would often enjoy tea in the bamboo yard and explore the value and virtues of social and natural worlds to better understand Zen ideas. This poem was written when Su Shi visited during his inspection of the county’s governance as the magistrate of Hangzhou.   Of the Four, he favours bamboo the most, as seen in his paintings. He even began using red paint for his bamboo artworks, which then established a unique style. I believe this is another example of his artistic focus on the theme rather than the form. 於潜僧绿筠轩 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 宁可食无肉，不可居无竹。 无肉令人瘦，无竹令人俗。 人瘦尚可肥，士俗不可医。 旁人笑此言，似高还似痴。 若对此君仍大嚼，世间那有扬州鹤? Reference: gushiwen.cn picture from google

江城子·十年生死两茫茫 （乙卯正月二十日夜记梦） 原作：【宋】苏轼 英译：戈登.奥赛茵、闵晓红 十年生死两茫茫， 不思量，自难忘， 千里孤坟 无处话凄凉。 纵使相逢应不识， 尘满面，鬓如霜。 夜来幽梦忽还乡， 小轩窗，正梳妆， 相顾无言，唯有泪千行。 料得年年肠断处， 明月夜，短松冈。 It's ten years you're gone and I'm living - to the tune of Jiangchengzi (my dream on January 20th,1075) Chinese original: Su Shi ( 11th Century) English old version: G. Osing, J. Min & H. Huang(1991) English new version: Julia Min (2025) It's ten years you're gone and I'm living, in two worlds apart and fading. If I've tried hard not to recall, I’d also say I can't ignore. It's a thousand miles to your tomb; To whom can I share my mood of gloom? You would not know me by now, my temples frosted with lines on my brow.   Last night in the mist of my dream-world, I was home again, by your crafted window. You were adorning yourself, still young and fair. Our eyes meet and freeze --- we're in silence and in tears; Then the dream ends right there. Where the moon illumines your ridge of pines. I swear my heart breaks further each year. Picture retrieved from Google Notes: 1. “yi mao”in the title, the year of Yi-mao, 1075. 2. “shi nian sheng si”, Su Shi's wife, died in 1065. The dead (Wang Fu) and the living know nothing of each other in their separate worlds. 3. Wang Fu was buried in Pengshan County,Sichuan Province, very far from Mizhou“duan song gang”, which is the place of her burial. For Appreciation: Some scholars believe this work ranks among the earliest elegies written in the form of ci, a distinctive freer verse genre with deep significance in Chinese classical literature. Ten years after the poet's wife passed away, he experienced profound emotional and career upheavals, facing tumultuous highs and lows as he navigated changes in his official duties and personal life. The second stanza of the poem is especially poignant, vividly recalling a quiet, informal moment they once shared—an intimate memory that highlights their strong bond and the poet's enduring love and longing. This elegy not only conveys personal grief but also reflects the cultural richness of ci poetry in expressing subtle, heartfelt emotions and personal reflection during that era. Pinying and Word -For-Word Translation: jiāng chéng zǐ （yǐ mǎo zhèng yuè èr shí rì yè jì mèng ）- to the tune of Jiangchengzi --- a night dream on January 20 in 1075 ( 3 days after the first full moon, Chinese calendar) shí nián shēng sǐ liǎng máng máng – ten years the alive and the dead both distant apart. bú sī liàng ，zì nán wàng – not always think about you but difficult to forget. qiān lǐ gū fén - thousand li desolate tomb, wú chù huà qī liáng – nowhere to tell loneliness. zòng shǐ xiàng féng yīng bú shí - even if we meet again, should not recognize, chén mǎn miàn ，bìn rú shuāng – dust covers my face, temples like frost. yè lái yōu mèng hū hái xiāng – at night gloomy dream suddenly return my native place. xiǎo xuān chuāng ，zhèng shū zhuāng - by small room window, she is making up. xiàng gù wú yán - face each other no word, wéi yǒu lèi qiān háng - only there are tears thousand lines. liào dé nián nián cháng duàn chù -guess year by year heart-broken place; míng yuè yè ，duǎn sōng gāng - bright moon night, short pine tree ridge

江城子 · 密州出猎 原作：【宋】苏轼 老夫聊发少年狂， 左牵黄，右擎苍， 锦帽貂裘，千骑卷平冈。 为报倾城随太守， 亲射虎，看孙郎。 酒酣胸胆尚开张， 鬓微霜，又何妨？ 持节云中，何日遣冯唐？ 会挽雕弓如满月， 西北望，射天狼。 Hunting Outside Mizhou -to the tune of Jiangchengzi Chinese original: Su Shi ( 11th Century) English old version: G. Osing, J. Min & H. Huang(1991) English new version: Julia Min (2023) This old boy's truly young at heart and mind, A retriever by left hand, a falcon on the right. In coats of fur and hats of brocade we ride, Thousands of hoofbeats swept the hills in sight. Like Sun Quan, the great archer, I’d shoot a tiger, To reward the town for following me to the site.   My old heart is fearless again, fired with wine. Does it matter that frost crowns my temples high? When will Feng Tang arrive with a tally in hand To order this  governor who’s ready to fight? Like the round moon, I’d tighten the bow; To the northwest, I’d shoot Sirius down! Notes: 1. Another title of this ci poem is “On Hunting.”“Mizhou” in the title is in today’s Jucheng County, Shandong Province. 2. 'this old boy': referring to himself at the time when he was forty years old. 3. 'Sun Quan': refers to Sun Quan of the Three Kingdoms Period, who was famous for hunting on horseback, especially for his driving off a tiger by throwing his empty weapon in its face in a famous episode in folklore. Like his father, Sun Quan was considered one of the best archers at the time. 4. 'Feng Tang': the governor of Yunzhong (under Emperor Wen of Han) who defeated an invasion by the Huns. When asked to report the tally of enemies killed, the governor exaggerated the number by six and was disgraced and sentenced to heavy punishment, including the loss of his governorship. Feng Tang, who interceded on behalf of the governor for the return of his post, arranged for a second, true tally to be brought forth, and the episode became famous for dramatising honesty in government. An tally was an order issued by the emperor to generals and envoys. A tally to Yunzhong would be one for the Yunzhong Prefecture in the Han Dynasty, a county in Inner Mongolia today. 5. 'Sirius': the brightest star in the northwest sky from where our poet had the event. It is used here as a symbol for the invaders, mainly the Mongols. For Appreciation: As governor of Mizhou (Nov. 1074 – Nov. 1076), Su Shi and his friends went hunting after their festive tour to a sacrificial ceremony. It is one of the poet's most heroic and vigorous ci poems, with the theme being inspiringly patriotic and dramatically bold and ambitious. Readers might also notice the poet's light-hearted pleasure in his success in public leadership, which reveals, both in reality and spirit, his optimistic enthusiasm for a dedicated official career serving the people.   The first stanza again focuses on the event, while the second stanza reflects on the day’s theme, offering his hindsight. The poetic vibe connects with a heroic tone that was seen as a challenge to the elegant and graceful style of the existing sentimental ci school. Alternatively, you could argue that Su Shi deliberately filled this gap with a heroic style, which was badly needed during the constant threats from the Huns and the Jin at the western and northern borders. The contrasting styles created a perfect balance of yin and yang, enriching the world of ci poetry and establishing it as a more independent and complete literary form, further distinguished from purely poetic works in literature.   Another piece in the same style is his “Meditating on the Past at the Red Cliff” ( 《念奴娇 . 赤壁怀古》), which is included in this selection, along with recital and analysis. Enjoy! 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) (“Hunting Outside Mizhou"-- "This old boy's truly young at heart at the sight:/My left hand's led by a retriever, a falcon rides my right./In coats of fur and hats of silk brocade we ride, / Thousands of hoofbeats over a low bridge./The whole town's turned-out to follow its governor, watching./When I shot my tiger, the people surely saw heroic Sun Chuan.// Fired with the wine, my old heart became fearless once again. /What does it matter if, truth to tell, frost covers my temples./When will honest Feng Tang come with the tally that saves the governor?/I will pull the bow tight and round as the moon when it is fullest./Northwest I aim; I shoot the invading Tianlang Star.") 2. Other versions for your reference（许渊冲） http://blog.sina.com.cn/s/blog_1534238f70102xgt4.html Pinyin and word-for-word translation: jiāng chéng zǐ . mì zhōu chū liè - to the tune of Jiangchengzi (outside Mizhou hunting) lǎo fū liáo fā shǎo nián kuáng - old man is being in youth's exuberate spirit; zuǒ qiān huáng ，yòu qíng cāng - left hand lead yellow hunting dog, right hold eagle; jǐn mào diāo qiú - silk brocade cap marten coat, qiān qí juàn píng gāng - thousand horses sweep smooth the ridge; wéi bào qīng chéng suí tài shǒu - to thank the whole city follow the governor; qīn shè hǔ ，kàn sūn láng - myself shoot tiger, let people see Sun Chuan; jiǔ hān xiōng dǎn shàng kāi zhāng - heated wine with breast bravery still open; bìn wēi shuāng ，yòu hé fáng ？- temples slightly frosty, what does it matter; chí jiē yún zhōng - hold a tally to Yunzhong; hé rì qiǎn féng táng ？- what day send Feng Tang; huì wǎn diāo gōng rú mǎn yuè - would draw carved bow like a full moon; xī běi wàng ，shè tiān láng - northwest looking shoot Sirius Star;

声声慢·寻寻觅觅 原作：李清照 寻寻觅觅，冷冷清清，凄凄惨惨戚戚。  乍暖还寒时候，最难将息。  三杯两盏淡酒，怎敌他、晚来风急？  雁过也，正伤心，却是旧时相识。    满地黄花堆积。憔悴损，如今有谁堪摘？  守著窗儿，独自怎生得黑？  梧桐更兼细雨，到黄昏、点点滴滴。  这次第，怎一个愁字了得！ Where? Where should it go, the lonely soul? - to the Tune Shengshengman original by Li Qingzhao ( 12th century) 1st En. trans. by: G. Osing, J. Min & H. Huang (1991) En. revision by: Julia Min ( 2025) Where? Where should it go, the lonely soul? Too dreary in miseries, in daydreaming! Gone is the world's warmth, its cold Now holding my very being. Would a few cups of wine soothe the chill That also violates the heart of evening? You flying geese in the rising air Were once our loved go-betweens. With whom shall I pick the chrysanthemum Shrinking and withering, now all fallen? Am I to spend forever tonight At my window here, alone again, Watching at dusk, in the parasol trees, The misty air turning inexorably to rain? No word is desolate enough To imitate this joyless scene! Notes: 1. ‘flying geese’: wild geese in the sky bear a symbolic meaning in Chinese culture, representing messengers for lovers and families to send their love and regards to each other. 2. ‘parasol trees’: the autumn tree, which hardly bears any leaves, usually symbolises melancholy and loneliness in Chinese poetry. For appreciation: Some collections call this ci "Autumn Thoughts." It was apparently composed in August 1129 upon her husband’s death, and her sorrows had become multiple, so far as she could tell, permanent. She was distraught, yet she perhaps exerted great effort to uphold her dignity while writing. What strikes Chinese readers most is that the original verses start with four lines that use purely the repetition of 7 words (14 words in total), resonating later with repetition (4 words) in the second stanza. “Repetition in word and phrase and in idea is the very essence of poetry,” Theodore Roethke writes in Some Remarks on Rhythm (1960). It’s one of the most intoxicating effects as it accrues expectation or desperation. Peter Sacks writes in The English Elegy (1987), “Repetition creates a sense of continuity, of an unbroken pattern such as one may oppose to the extreme discontinuity of death.” In addition, interdental consonants are widely used from beginning to end, with a total of 57 in this 97-word poem. Together, they create the impression that she’s holding and pressing hard her deep sorrow over her husband’s death during the country’s turmoil, which is like adding snow to a frosted ground. The artistic effect is multiplied through the application. No poet ever before used 14 words in repetition in a poem, and you could rarely find a Chinese poem with so many interdental phonetic sounds. Many poets have tried the techniques, yet nobody has met Li Qingzhao’s standards. She has again proved herself the greatest master of Ci. We, as the translators, pale in comparison for sure. We regret not being able to find a more perfect presentation of such arts in the English language. Again, Lu Xun’s words are ringing in the ear: Poetry can’t be translated. So, we proceed, aiming to fail interestingly but with promising prospects, or to succeed modestly in sparking cross-cultural interest.   · Other translators’ work for your reference:   Slow slow tune By Lin Yutang (林语堂）   So dim, so dark. So dense, so dull. So damp, so dank, so dead! The weather, now warm, now cold. Makes it harder than ever to forget. How can thin wine and bread. Serve as protection, Aganinst the piercing wind of sunset? Wild geese pass overhead. That they are familiar. Makes it more lamentable yet!   The ground is strewn with staid . And withered petals; For whom now should they be in vases set? By the window shut, guarding it alone. To see the sky has turned so black! And on the Cola nut. To hear the drizzle drone. At dust: pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat! Is this a mood and moment only to be called "sad"? Reference： 1. Forever Tonight at My Window by Gordon Osing, Julia Min and Huang Haipeng published by the People's Publication House Henan Province in 1991 ( "To the tune of Shengshengman" -- Where? Where should the cold soul go?/Too lonely, dreary dreaming./Gone is the world's warmth; its cold/now holds my very being./Will three cups of wine soothe/the wind violating the heart of evening?/You swallows leaving in riming air/were once our loved go-betweens.// With whom shall I pick the yellow flowers/now fallen or withering?/Am I to spend forever tonight/ at my window alone again,/ watching, in the parasol tree the mists/turning inexorably to rain?/No word is desolate enough/to imitate this joyless scene!) picture from google;

念奴娇.赤壁怀古 原作: 苏轼（11世纪北宋） 大江东去浪淘尽，千古风流人物。 故垒西边，人道是，三国周郎赤壁。 乱石崩云，惊涛裂岸，卷起千堆雪。 江山如画，一时多少豪杰！   遥想公瑾当年，小乔初嫁了，雄姿英发。 羽扇纶巾，谈笑间，樯橹灰飞烟灭。 故国神游，多情应笑我，早生华发。 人生如梦，一樽还酹江月。 Meditating on the Past at the Red Cliff - to the tune of Niannujiao Original by: Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') English version by: Julia Min ( 2025 )   To the East Sea flows the Yangtze River, Washing away forever, in tides of time, All the heroes of the past we remember. On the west side of this slopy stronghold, Some say, in Three Kingdoms’ chaotic era, Zhou Yu won his Red Cliff Battle on water. What a splendid war field unfolds across -- Startling waves strike the bank like thunder. Jagged rocks pierce the sky along the shore. So many warriors set forth and fought here.   I recall Gongjin, a youth of radiant valour, Newly wedded to the fair Qiao, the young sister. With scholar’s silk cap and feather fan in hand, He chatted at ease as he claimed a great feat: The tides turned, sailed his burning boats over, Cao’s fleet jammed in smoke, doomed in fire. Here I stand, in regret, mocked by my grey hair, Just a wanderer, simpering in his sick humour. It’s such a dream -- life or death, loss or success. I’d pour out wine to honour the Moon, the River. Notes: 1. ‘some say’: the poet’s playful pretending that the original battle took place at this Red Nose Rock at Huangzhou while attributing the belief to the local people. This is not the first time Su Shi did it. If you know his stories, he did it during the Imperial Exam too. It’s a narrow escape with his naughty humour that only a character like his has the privilege of doing it without being misunderstood or condemned. 2. ‘Zhou Yu’: the registered official name, his social name being ‘Gongjin’; He was a famous general commanding a troop of 20 thousands during Red Cliff Battle. 3. ‘younger Qiao’: the younger sister of two from a local gentry family. The older sister was married to Sun Quan, the king of Wu State. 4. ‘scholar’s silk cap and feather fan in hand’: a popular image of learned scholars of the time, particularly associated to the wise man Zhuge Liang, the prime minister of the Han State; For Appreciation: If you ever read English poetry from times of glory and duty, you might have tasted the heroic poem “Battle of Malden” about the fierce battle (991 AD, England). It’s about the Saxons versus the Vikings, with lines like: “Thought shall be the harder, heart the keener,/courage the greater, as our might lessens.” Well, similar images are shown in Chinese poetry, with The Red Cliff Battle being one of the most remembered. Interestingly, whenever people mention the famous battle on the Yangtze River, the first association coming to the mind of the Chinese readers could be Dongpo’s Red Cliff in this heroic poem “Meditating on the Past at the Red Cliff” (《念奴娇.赤壁怀古》).   This celebrated poem was written in 1082, the third year of Su Shi’s exile at Huangzhou, a river town in today’s Hubei Province. His renowned meditation spot was the Red Nose Rock overlooking the Yangtze River at the time. The battlefield was deliberately depicted to evoke thoughts that support the theme. It actually occurred in 208 AD at Red Cliff in Puqi (today’s Red Cliff County of Xianling on the Yangtze River, also in Hubei Province), where Sun Quan and Liu Bei allied to fight against the formidable Cao Cao’s 200,000 warriors, with only 500,000 soldiers on their side, at Red Cliff on the Yangtze River. The victory was significant, thanks to General Zhou Yu’s extensive experience in river battles, which contrasted with Cao's troops, who were only familiar with land battles. This battle was a pivotal moment in reshaping military strategies and resolving escalating tensions between the states, paving the way for the era of the Three Kingdoms.   Again, Su Shi was holding his cup when he composed, mourning that he was insignificant compared to the heroes in the historical epics, hinting that he felt unappreciated by the Throne. This theme frequently appeared in his works during his downturn periods. His writings, along with his calligraphy and paintings, were widely admired for their artistic value, even by the emperors. It’s no wonder that Huangzhou’s Red Nose Rock was renamed ‘Red Cliff’ after this poem was published. Later generations have called it in full ‘Dongpo’s Red Cliff’.   This Ci poem has been regarded as the representative of the heroic school in ci poetry. It’s actually the very first and best ever written, and it could be the most quoted. The critics of his time and later, including Li Qingzhao, commented that Su Shi was writing ci for his poem theme, implying he misplaced his poem in the ci form, and he was not good at ci’s musical patterns and metres. Li insisted that heroic style should be only for poems, while ci should focus on the elegant, the clever, the pretty, and delicate sentiments suitable for the saloons and drawing rooms of the gentry. Her works can indeed stand as the best evidence of her theory. It’s like what the English would think about song lyrics and poetry, where the main difference is that the lyrics are set to music. “Once words have begun to be accommodated to music, they display … not only lilt and balance, but tone and quality … They are more carefully chosen than other words” (C.M. Bowra, Primitive Song) Nonetheless, a great mind like Su Shi can’t be expected to be governed by contemporary rules and etiquettes, as the then Prime Minister Wang Anshi once said (“礼岂为我辈设哉”). For him, the theme was his primary concern; everything else served only as supporting devices. If an existing one didn’t serve the purpose, he’d create one that did, leading to the birth of the heroic school of ci poetry, or you might see it as the heroic school opposed to the sentimental school of Romanticism.   · Other translators’ work for your reference:   Memories of the Past at Red Cliff Tune: "Charm of a Maiden Singer" By Xu Yuanchong   The Great River eastward flows, With its waves are gone all those Gallant heroes of bygone years. West of the ancient fortress appears The Red Cliff. Here General Zhou won his early fame When the Three Kingdoms were all in flame. Jagged rocks tower in the air, Swashing waves beat on the shore, Rolling up a thousand heaps of snow. To match the hills and the river so fair, How many heroes brave of yore Made a great show! I fancy General Zhou at the height Of his success, with a plume fan in hand, In a silk hood, so brave and bright, Laughing and jesting with his bride so fair, While enemy ships were destroyed as planned Like shadowy castles in the air. Should their souls revisit this land, Sentimental, his wife would laugh to say, Younger than they, I have my hair all turned gray. Life is but like a passing dream, I'd drink to the moon which once saw them on the stream. 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)（"Eastward flows the River, washing away in waves /Forever all the Heroes of the past. /On the west side of this old fortress, some people say, /General Zhou fought his Red Cliff Battle, in the time of Three Kingdoms./Roiling clouds are cut by savage cliffs, walls of water destroy the shore,/Throw up mist thick as a blizzard. /The River and the mountains make a magnificent scene! /How many heroes from the past are lost to us! // Long ago, when Gongjin was young, /And had just taken Little Qiao to wife… /Heroic, brilliant, with feathered fan and black silk, striped kerchief, /He laughed and talked on as the enemy’s warships’ smoke and ashes flew windward. /Visiting this old world now, how Zhou would laugh at my simpering, /Me, with grey hair far too soon from thinking. /It is such a dream. /I pour out my cup to honour the moon in the river. "） 2. The original calligraphy by Su Dongpo himself; 3. painting by Luo Zhenxian (罗振贤）from Google；

水调歌头·明月几时有 丙辰中秋，欢饮达旦，大醉，作此篇。兼怀子由。 原作：【宋】苏轼 英译：戈登.奥赛茵、闵晓红 明月几时有，把酒问青天。 不知天上宫阙，今夕是何年？ 我欲乘风归去，又恐琼楼玉宇，高处不胜寒。 起舞弄清影，何似在人间！ 转朱阁，低绮户，照无眠。 不应有恨，何事长向别时圆？ 人有悲欢离合，月有阴晴圆缺，此事古难全。 但愿人长久，千里共婵娟。 When was the moon ever so bright? - to the tune of Shuidiaogetou (written for the Moon Festival as well as for my brother Ziyou in 1076 after my drinking through the night) translated by G. Osing, J. Min & H. Huang (1990) revised by Julia Min (2022) When was the moon ever so bright? With a cup in hand filled with wine， I ask the vast, dark blue Empyrean. What year is it in Heaven tonight? Could I be taken there on a wind ride?   But I fear it would be cold up so high， in the riches of the moon's jade palace. I'll dance a satire to the shadow of mine, for some earthly joy in the moonlight, In our mortal world of humankind.   Drifting past the red pavilion, the moonlight, Lowers her gaze through crafted windows, keeping me awake. Oh Brother, such is life! It’s been seven years since our last reunion. And when we’re apart, she’s full and bright.   It’s a spell beyond the moon and mankind. Life’s just ups n downs, welcomes n goodbyes.   The moon waxes and wanes, dims and shines.    May we, now and always, peace to our hearts, share the same Moon Goddess in paradise.         （ Other versions ( 许渊冲/林语堂) for your reference） Picture retrieved from Google Analysis This is a masterpiece written by Su Shi in Mizhou in 1076, a time of hardship for our poet as he held different views on the New Laws (proposed by Wang Anshi), which were approved and enacted. Feeling himself out of the Emperor’s favour, he asked to be sent away from the Royal Court to be Mizhou’s Mayor. His wife had left him, and he hadn't seen his brother in seven years. Here, his inclination was to wish himself into the legendary jade palace of the Goddess on the moon, of romantic art and beauty, and above all, a life of seclusion from the chaos of Song’s political scene, but he was led to fear the cold perfection of her empire. After all, Su Shi is more a man of the world than a Daoist of fairy lands. And to the readership, the bravest sight of all is to see a great man struggling against adversity where great works could be born.  Notes: 1. “bing chen”: the year 1076. 2. Legend has it that there is a palace called Guang Han on the moon. 3. The Chinese believe three days in Heaven are equal to three years on Earth, so the dates on Heaven and Earth differ. 4. “Chanjuan” refers to the goddess Chang E, who is said to inhabit the moon palace. Pinying and Word-For-Word Translation: shuǐ diào gē tóu - to the tune of Shuidiaogetou (bǐng chén zhōng qiū ，huān yǐn dá dàn ，dà zuì ，zuò cǐ piān 。jiān huái zǐ yóu ) - Bingchen year Mid-Autumn Festival, enjoy drinking to the next morning; heavily drunk, compose this ci, also miss Ziyou; míng yuè jǐ shí yǒu - bright moon when have; bǎ jiǔ wèn qīng tiān - hold a cup of wine and ask the dark-blue sky; bú zhī tiān shàng gōng què - not know in Heaven Palace; jīn xī shì hé nián - this evening is what year; wǒ yù chéng fēng guī qù – I wish to fly on wind to return; yòu kǒng qióng lóu yù yǔ - but afraid jade towers jade mansions; gāo chù bú shèng hán - high place not bear the cold; qǐ wǔ nòng qīng yǐng - start dancing, make fun with my shadows; hé sì zài rén jiān - what like in human world; zhuǎn zhū gé - the moon turns around red pavilion; dī qǐ hù - lowers light into the crafted doors and windows; zhào wú mián – so much light, no sleep; bú yīng yǒu hèn – should not have hatred; hé shì zhǎng xiàng bié shí yuan – why is it often full and bright when we are parted; rén yǒu bēi huān lí hé – humans have sorrows joys departures reunions; yuè yǒu yīn qíng yuán quē – the moon is cloudy clear wax or wane; cǐ shì gǔ nán quán – such has been difficult for perfection since ancient times; dàn yuàn rén zhǎng jiǔ – only wish we have each other for a long time; qiān lǐ gòng chán juān -thousand li share Chanjuan;

汲江煎茶 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 英译: 闵晓红(2024.01) 活水还须活火烹， 自临钓石取深清。 大瓢贮月归春瓮， 小杓分江入夜瓶。 雪乳已翻煎处脚， 松风忽作泻时声。 枯肠未易禁三碗， 坐听荒城长短更。   Making New Season Tea by a Spring Stream Chinese original: Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') English translation: Julia Min (Jan. 2024) The finest tea is made over a fresh fire, With water drawn from a flowing stream. From the end of fishing rocks on the pier, I try to source clear water from the deep. The dipper stole the moon into my urn, A stream share to the kettle the scoop feeds.   Soon it boils to a cream top of snowy foam. Tea grounds roll up an aroma rich and sweet. Then I pour a thin stream of spring to a bowl,- A soothing sound like breeze through pineries. The ‘three-bowl limit’ can’t be My cup of tea To kill long nights in a town barren and bleak. Notes: 1.     new season tea: likely referring to Grain-Rain Tea in spring, a conventional preference of southern Chinese green tea lovers. Tea leaves picked before the Grain Rain (mid-April) tastes refreshing with a delicate fragrance, while the leaves after the season taste rich and sweet with a more sophisticated aroma, often used to make black tea. Su Shi could be making teas with the postseason Grain Rain tea. 2.     a cream top of snowy foam: likely referring to matcha (tea grounds / powder) made from tencha in a small wooden or stone tool. Boiling tea leaves won’t produce a creamy top, but tea grounds do. 3.     ‘three-bowl limit’:  a famous comment by Lu Tong ( 卢仝), a poet of the Tang Dynasty – “the first bowl moistens the mouth. The second bowl drives away loneliness. The third bowl opens your creative mind. …” Appreciation: This tea poem was composed during spring in 1100 at Hainan Island, “the end of the world” as often called by ancient Chinese writers. The new season tea could be sourced from local friends or students. Although he was banished as far as his political opponent could find on the Song map, he was able to find peace in his mind with his surrounding world, wild and desolate as it could be. Tea culture has been woven into the tapestry of Chinese culture like silk that defines Chinese fine costumes. With only a few lines, Su Shi drew a motion picture of tea-making in the Song Dynasty, where we immediately sense a big difference from what we do today. Tell me what you have discovered here? Have you ever tried boiling tea instead of brewing it?   Tea was largely introduced to Britain during the colonial period, where it was highly appreciated by the upper class in the early decades before becoming affordable to the common people. I vividly recall my 1998 visit to a castle in Scotland, where I saw a crafted tea drawer that locked away tea to prevent servants from stealing it, as it was a privilege for the masters and their guests only. A similar understanding is shared in the modern era by William Gladstone (a former British Prime Minister, 1809-1898) in his poem “ Brew a Cup a Tea ” -- “ W hen the world is all at oddsAnd the mind is all at sea,/Then cease the useless tedium/And brew a cup of tea./There is magic in its fragrance,/There is solace in its taste;/And the laden moments vanish/Somehow into space./And the world becomes a lovely thing!/There’s beauty as you’ll see;/All because you briefly stopped/To brew a cup of tea.” Reference: baikebaidu.com 百度百科 picture from the website: 《澎湃新闻》澎湃号·湃客

I see my previous life in Yuanming --to the tune of Jiangchengzi (Tao Yuanming, visited the Tilted Valley on the fifth day of the Chinese New Year. He found a beautiful spot by a stream, enjoying the view of Mt. Zencheng among hills and pavilions. He wrote 'The Tilted Valley,' making it a popular tourist spot. In 1082, I lived a simple farm life at Dongpo (East Slope). My home, the Snow Hall, was near a creek flowing from the west to the north hill, then south toward hills and pavilions. This place reminds me of the Tilted Valley, inspiring me to compose this poem to the tune of Jiangchengzi.) written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') En. trans. by Julia Min (Aug. 2025) I see my previous life in Yuanming, Oft in dreams and in tipsy thinking. In vain we spent many a life span, Rising with fame yet back to the land. The East Slope, blessed with rain last night, Wakes to a clear day with Spring magpies.   A hidden creek murmurs by Snow Hall, Winding from the west towards Mt. North, Then down to the south, to Mt. Zencheng That stands proud with hills and pavilions. It looks just like Yuanming’s Tilted Vale, So here I came, and here I will stay. For Appreciation Su Shi’s unique attitude toward adversity is truly one-of-a-kind, setting him apart as a remarkable figure in Chinese literature and history. His ability to survive the tumultuous waters of life with grace and resilience is a testament to his noble and unwavering spirit. Known for being a hard nut to crack, Su Shi consistently maintained a tolerable and robust attitude, an impressive strength to shake off personal struggles with a remarkable ease that many would envy. He approached life’s challenges with the poise of a saint, adapting to circumstances with an enviable skill that allowed him to thrive even in the most trying of times. This poem paints a vivid picture of his farm life in Dongpo, where he embraced a self-reliant lifestyle that stood in stark contrast to the chaotic political landscape surrounding him. Indifferent to worldly troubles that ensnared many of his contemporaries, he found joy and contentment even in the face of exile—a situation that, while painful, provided him with the opportunity to reflect and grow. How delightful this must have been for his political foes, who could not fathom how someone they sought to undermine could find such peace and happiness in adversity! As the years progressed, the weight of aging began to settle upon him, yet he remained astutely aware of his circumstances and surroundings. This awareness was not merely a passive observation; it was a strategic preservation of his energy and talents for future opportunities that would inevitably arise. His keen insight into the shifting tides of political favor allowed him to maintain hope and resilience, preparing himself for the moment when he could re-enter the fray of Court life. Indeed, soon enough, with a change in emperors, Su Shi found himself back in the Royal Court, where his wisdom and experience were once again sought after. What a life he led—a tapestry woven with threads of struggle, triumph, and an indomitable spirit that continues to inspire countless individuals today! 江城子·梦中了了醉中醒 ( 陶渊明以正月五日游斜川，临流班坐，顾瞻南阜，爱曾城之独秀，乃作斜川诗，至今使人想见其处。元丰壬戌之春，余躬耕于东坡，筑雪堂居之，南挹四望亭之后丘，西控北山之微泉，慨然而叹，此亦斜川之游也。乃作长短句，以《江城子》歌之。) 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年8月) 梦中了了醉中醒, 只渊明，是前生。 走遍人间， 依旧却躬耕。 昨夜东坡春雨足， 乌鹊喜，报新晴。 雪堂西畔暗泉鸣, 北山倾，小溪横。 南望亭丘， 孤秀耸曾城。 都是斜川当日景， 吾老矣，寄余龄。。 Reference: picture from https://collection.sina.cn/yejie

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 Qiongzhou Strait. There, he received a sentimental ci-poem newly written by Shaoyou. It was a downturn period when all his followers of the Old Party were banished further away from the Capital. The ci-lyric is recognised as the last spark of his heroic poems. It feels a bit hard-stretched, though, if we compare it with his other heroic poems like “ 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 went from waning to robust, and to detached in the end, enriched with a cynical taste of self-ridicule humour.  A similar scenario often appears in other artistic forms, particularly in Chinese calligraphy, where even a subtle change in style can reveal some fundamental shifts in the artist’s mental state, as calligraphy can not be disguised with colours or other properties.   The last two lines enrich our association with the great saint figure Confucius, highlighting Su Shi’s mindset of living a detached life as a commoner.   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。 Reference: baike.baidu.com

My Plum Blossom --to the tune of “The West River Moon” written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') En. trans. by Julia Min (Jul. 2025) Her jade blossom thrives in celestial vibes. Her crystal heart can clear the miasma mist. Her sweet scent travels to fairy islands, Attracting little fairies, green nut-hatches.   A born beauty will need no make-up tips. No snow or rain can change her crimson lips. She’s a cloud at dawn, free of attachments, Never sharing a dream with pear blossoms. For Appreciation This is an elegy on a remarkable life, that of a 22-year-old woman known as Zhaoyun. Born in the enchanting city of Hangzhou, she embarked on her social journey as a talented singer and dancer at the tender age of 12. Historical records reveal her deep admiration for the renowned poet Su Shi, which led her to become his concubine at just 14 years old. Throughout her life, Zhaoyun faced numerous challenges. Twice she was asked to stay behind, rather than accompany Su Shi into exile. Yet, with unwavering resolve, she smiled each time, embodying an enduring spirit that shone brightly even in the face of adversity. Her life in Huizhou was fraught with hardship; the barren landscape and miasmic climate contributed to a struggle for survival. Unfortunately, the poor living conditions took a toll on her health, leading to her contracting malaria, a common affliction in that region. Tragically, she was only 34 when she was liberated from all earthly suffering, leaving behind a legacy of resilience and grace.   In her later years, she embraced Buddhism, studying its teachings deeply. As she passed away, she recited: “Everything on earth is like dreams, bubbles, shadows and illusions, like dews and lightning.” In that moment, Dongpo realised she had transcended earthly attachments. He reflected that she had come to him to settle a karmic debt, and now they would not share an afterlife. Thus, he wrote:   She’s a cloud at dawn, free of attachments, Never sharing a dream with pear blossoms.   Unlike the plum blossoms, symbolising purity and resilience in winter, pear blossoms thrive in spring's chaos, representing fashion and fame. This contrast emphasises Zhaoyun’s noble spirit, embodying the strength of the plum blossom amidst worldly miseries.   Among the three significant women in Su Shi’s life, Zhaoyun was the youngest and his true soulmate, inspiring him to create more works for her than anyone else. His celebrated work, “ A Moment from Shine to Rain on West Lake ” (《饮湖上初晴后雨》), emerged during this time, reflecting his heartache in July 1096 as he neared sixty. After her passing, he chose solitude, and his poems gradually lost the robust heroic style he represented. Remarkably, he succumbed to the same illness as Zhaoyun, dying on the same date as their son, Dun. When offered a high position by the Emperor, Dongpo declined, preferring tranquillity in Changzhou, near Lake Tai and Zhaoyun's birthplace, unaware he would leave this world upon reaching their dreamed oyster cave. 西江月.梅花 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年7月) 玉骨那愁瘴雾， 冰姿自有仙风。 海仙时遣探芳丛。 倒挂绿毛么凤。 素面翻嫌粉涴， 洗妆不褪唇红。 高情已逐晓云空。 不与梨花同梦。 Reference: http://www.360doc.com 洋房居士