洞仙歌·冰肌玉骨 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(2024.07) (仆七岁时，见眉州老尼，姓朱，忘其名，年九十岁。自言尝随其师入蜀主孟昶[chǎng]宫中，一日大热，蜀主与花蕊夫人夜纳凉摩诃[hē]池上，作一词，朱具能记之。今四十年，朱已死久矣，人无知此词者，但记其首两句，暇日寻味，岂《洞仙歌》令乎？乃为足之云. ) 冰肌玉骨，自清凉无汗。 水殿风来暗香满。 绣帘开，一点明月窥人， 人未寝，倚枕钗横鬓乱。 起来携素手，庭户无声， 时见疏星渡河汉。 试问夜如何？夜已三更。 金波淡，玉绳低转。 但屈指西风几时来？ 又不道流年暗中偷换。 Pure as Snow Her Complexion Chinese original: Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Zizhan', art name 'Dongpo') English version & annotation: Julia Min (July. 2024) (There was an old nun in my hometown, Meizhou. I’m not sure of her first name, but I’m pretty sure her family name was Zhu. I was about seven, and she was in her nineties. I remember she was quite proud to tell us that she had often accompanied her master on visits to the palace of King Meng Chang, the ruler of Shu State. She was also quite impressed by a ci poem composed by the King when he and his Consort Flora were enjoying a cool night by Mohe Pool on a hot summer evening. She could literally remember every line. But the poem can’t be retrieved now, as forty years have passed and she must be long dead. I can only remember the first two lines, and I often linger on the rhymes and the vibe of the tune. As it happened, the tune “The Celestial from the Cave” came to mind. So here it is, an effort towards a possible complete version.) Pure as snow, her complexion, the grace of jade from within. Infused in the gentle breeze, a subtle scent sneaks from her bath pool of blossoms. Naughty is the wind that opens for the moon her embroidered curtains for a quick glimpse. There she is, leaning on a soft cushion, her eyes vacant, her long hair loosened. Gently, she raises herself, her fair hand in mine, stepping to the garden. The stars drift in the Milky River, twinkling, as Alioth of the Dipper is about to descend. She asks for the time, and I reply: “My darling, it has now passed midnight.” From brimming to dimming, the Moon turns. She figures with her fingers, sighing: “It’s drawing nearer, the falling season. Another year of gold will soon be stolen.” Notes： 1. Shu State: a state conquered by the Great Song ( Northern Song Dynasty). 2. Meng Chang(孟昶): Shu State’s last king, in reign from 934 to 964 AC, who died 7 days after 被那个kept under house arrest in Bianliang (Kaifeng today), the capital of Northern Song. He’s well known for his talent in art, including his ci poems. 3. Consort Flora(花蕊夫人): the most favoured consort of Meng Chang, well-known for her beauty and her poems. Legend has it that the Song Emperor was impressed by her beauty and poetic talent, and he kept her in the palace as his consort. 4. Mohe Pool: the historical site can still be traced today in Zhaojue Temple in Chengdu City. The word Mohe (摩诃) originated in Buddhist scripture and means "wisdom." Appreciation: Based on the prelude, we can infer that Dongpo was about 47 years old when he wrote this poem, so the year could be around 1983/84, the last year of his banishment in Huangzhou (in today’s Hubei Province). This is another example of Su Shi’s sentimental poems, romantic and sophisticated in their vibes, though outshone by his heroic poems. The rhyming wave flows from the beauty’s secret bath pool of fresh flowers to her chamber, then to the garden in the company of her lover, the king, and extends to the Starry River, hinting that the happy night is about to end. The theme is explored further through the seasons and the year, deepening the sentiment that nothing gold can stay. It’s a sigh from the beauty, but also a sigh from Dongpo, who strongly felt his prime years were wasted there at Huangzhou and that his ambition was as if gone with the west wind. Such was the tune of his writings during his five-year banishment, full of regrets yet still wishing to be pardoned and summoned back to the Court, as you can find in his “Meditating on the Past at Red Cliff” and his prose poems on his boat drinks at Red Cliff（前后赤壁赋）. It is, in fact, a universal sigh in the human world about mortality, about the helplessness of holding a good moment. Nature could be defined as ‘cruel’ in human understanding. Robert Frost’s poem came to my mind again— “Nothing Gold Can Stay”. Reference: 1. baike.baidu.com;

Flower Shadow Chinese original: Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Zizhan', art name 'Dongpo') English translation & annotation: Julia Min (Aug. 2024) Shadow came in tiers on the blooming terrace. I had servants sweep them away, but in vain. Thank goodness the setting sun took them off. Yet, they are sent back by the moon again! Appreciation: Imagine Dongpo is with friends in a gracious garden in its fullest bloom. After a few cups of wine, he drifted into a tipsy mood. The place was bathed in shimmering golden light—except for the shadow, which swells and stretches as the sun set, as if attempting to overrule the flowers it relied on for its existence. The greater value of this short poem is the implied message under the simple lines. It was written in 1076, shortly after Wang Anshi returned as Prime Minister to reimpose his New Law—a law that had already crushed the commoners once before. As a leader of the conservative party, Su Shi could only sigh: Here we go again! 花影 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(2024.08) 重重叠叠上瑶台， 几度呼童扫不开。 刚被太阳收拾去， 又教明月送将来。（‘又教’有版本作‘却教’） Reference: picture from dongya.com gushiwen.cn

吉祥寺赏牡丹 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(2024.07) 人老簪花不自羞， 花应羞上老人头。 醉归扶路人应笑， 十里珠帘半上钩。 A Feast on Peony Blooms at Lucky Temple Chinese original: Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Zizhan', art name 'Dongpo') English translation & annotation: Julia Min (July. 2024) The street sees jolly gents arrayed with a twist. They totter and stagger on tipsy tiddly steps. Peonies have styled their grey hair with regret. The bead curtains are half-rolled miles ahead. Notes： 1. Written in May 1071, when Su Shi was Hangzhou’s Tongpan (a role, similar to an advisor to the Magistrate / Mayor, started in the Northern Song Dynasty to supervise and control the magistrate from arbitrariness) It is said that Su Shi and Shen Li (the Magistrate) were invited to a celebration party at the Lucky Temple of Hangzhou, where the peony was in full bloom. The next day, the magistrate showed him paintings of scenes from the peony festival. Su Shi was quite impressed and wrote this short poem right there and then. 2. Peonies: regarded by many Chinese as the national flower, have a long history radiating from the Capital of the Great Song, Bianliang City ( Kaifeng today). A grand flower festival was held in the most vibrant month of May. And it was quite common for gentlemen to wear a flower during the festival, though a bit amusing still, and more so when celebrities like Su Shi and his old peers celebrated the occasion with people in the street. 3. Bead curtains: hanging curtains decorated with beads of all kinds, often found in ancient poems and artistic works. Appreciation: Another good example of qijue (4-line poem with 7-character verse), which is very short but nothing short of ambition in exploring the theme to the maximum, where the underlined message is far greater than four lines. A brief moment on the street evokes in readers’ minds a stream of vivid images of the festival – the romantic sentiments in Song’s lifestyle, the shared happiness of high-ranking officials and common people, and the openness and freedom in the general governing attitude in Hangzhou. Su Shi was a celebrity but approachable, not hindered by pride and prejudice. He loved people and was loved by people wherever he went. Today, he is probably most loved among contemporary readers as the best of what Great Song could offer. Interestingly, the first artistic work that came to my mind is the painting “Monk Testing Wine” by Antonio Casanova y Estorach. Reference: 1. 徐培均《苏轼诗词选注》(上海远东出版社) 2. baike.baidu.com

减字木兰花 原作：【宋】李清照 英译：闵晓红 卖花担上， 买得一枝春欲放。 泪染轻匀， 犹带彤霞晓露痕。 怕郎猜道， 奴面不如花面好。 云鬓斜簪， 徒要教郎比并看。 Budding blooms - To the tune of Jianzi Mangnolia written by Li Qingzhao ( 12th century) translated by Julia Min From a flower peddler in neighbourhood, I bought budding blooms in spring mood. The pink tips are covered in thick dews, twinkling with gleaming golden hues. Her natural beauty may charm my mate. I regret my silly choice, surely too late. So pinned on hair near my cheeks fair, I wear the blossom for him to compare. Appreciation: Composed in her early marriage days when she was still a teenage girl, this ci poem is the only one in this music tune pattern from her collection left today. She was the happiest lady in the world living with her beloved husband who was then a carefree student at the Royal Academy in the capital city of Northern Song Dynasty. A glimpse of their daily life is manifested here, which is a treat for us to enjoy, especially the clever and witted zoom-in of a minute moment in the secret little mind of a young lady. Other versions for your reference (茅于美）: https://www.en84.com/dianji/ci/200912/00000857.html Notes: 1. jiǎn zì mù lán huā – the music pattern for this ci poem; 2. chūn yù fang – spring flowers that are just budding, which most likely refers to plum blossoms , the first bloom in spring. 3. tú: used as an adverb here, meaning ‘in vain”; Pinyin and word-for-word translation: jiǎn zì mù lán huā – the music pattern Jianzi Mangnolia; mài huā dān shàng – flower peddler loads on; mǎi dé yī zhī chūn yù fàng – bought one branch of Spring Budding； lèi rǎn qīng yún – teardrops soaked evenly； yóu dài tóng xiá xiǎo lù hén – as if with red rays morning dews traces； pà láng cāi dào – worried that my husband might think； nú miàn bú rú huā miàn hǎo – my face not as pretty as the flower; yún bìn xié zān – cloud hair sideway pin; tú yào jiāo láng bǐ bìng kàn – in vain ask husband to compare;

减字木兰花.莺初解语 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(2024.08) 莺初解语，最是一年春好处。 微雨如酥，草色远看近却无。 休辞醉倒，花不看开人易老。 莫待春回，颠倒红英间绿苔。 Spring’s First Blush Chinese original: Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Zizhan', art name 'Dongpo') English translation & annotation: Julia Min (Aug. 2024) Spring’s first blush appears when orioles sing, a warm embrace, attuned to a crisp rain. Winter lawn wakes to a green impression— obvious afar, obscure anear—budding spring. Let your young heart relish her charm again. Let your eyes feast on the blossoms bursting. Her golden glory waits for no man behind, who’d lament to see her weakened or fallen. Appreciation: This is a highly descriptive poem Su Shi sent to his younger brother on his way to a new post in February 1063, likely just after the Chinese New Year, when he had to say goodbye to his family. He was only 28, approaching 30. This poem may have been his first sigh as his youth gave way to maturity and greater social responsibilities. The first stanza, on scenery, brings us a joyful early spring with chirping golden orioles, misty warm drizzle, and subtle changes on the lawn. The second stanza expresses his appreciation for the promise of spring and his awareness that his spring days are fleeting, so he urges his brother to cherish every beautiful moment. ‘crisp rain’(如酥) happens to be a poetic equivalent, preserving the dual sensory register (rain + bakery). What makes it work is that both meanings in English are positive, spring-associated, and tactile. A "crisp rain" feels good on the skin; a "crisp croissant" feels good in the mouth — same as the original. I'm excited to find this small miracle of cross-linguistic resonance. Sensual, clever, faithful — and uniquely possible in English. While translating this poem in Melbourne’s early spring, my mind wandered to William Wordsworth’s “Lines Written in Early Spring” and “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud”. Reference: picture from 个人图书馆360doc.com徐你一世 baikebaidu.com

From the Inner Garden -to the tune Blossoms Fading in the Rain Chinese original: Su Shi English version: Julia Min (Apr. 2024) From the inner garden, behind curtains and drapes, A yearning poem slips out for a moonlight date— Over west chamber, the moon awaits its other half. Blossoms start fading, leaving butterflies in dismay. Whose flute melody streams from the North Ridge? It has a hold on her heart, a touch on her fair face. So shy behind her screen, so eager on his flute; So close are the hearts, yet a thousand miles apart. Over the low fence, where his eyes have long gazed, A swelling bough leaning, the red apricot in grace. Alas, shy love is often betrayed by flushing cheeks, Trying in vain to hide the desire in a familiar street— A few stolen joys between the cold and the bleak Of long hours in waiting, silent and incomplete. An open love often plays safe with a steady hand, A routine ride on a known course to a destined land: It is free of social walls, but also of yearning fire. Yet lovers’ taste grows keen on uncharted mire. What makes pleasure deep, tender and intense? The stolen ecstasy of secret, forbidden suspense. Appreciation: I'd say this poem stands out as a 101 in Su Shi's collection. Of all his romantic works, rarely do we find him pushing the limits on the private feelings of sensual pleasure. The pornographic vibes beneath the lines add a new colour to his profile as one of the greatest minds in Chinese history. Composed in early spring 1078, the poem was inspired by a painting of Cui Wei, a Tang Dynasty beauty. Su Shi immediately associated it with Yuanzhen's A Tale of Yingying — a story of love colliding with identity, duty, and social judgment. Both protagonists ended up marrying others, yet never stopped longing for each other. Similar explorations of sensual pleasure appear across world literature — from Ovid's Amores and Shakespeare's Sonnet 151 to Marvell's "To His Coy Mistress" and Lord Byron's Don Juan — though often with more explicit frankness. As the translator, I have tried to walk the line between fidelity and freedom — a tension every translator knows, much like a gardener walking the line between cultivation and wildness. Su Shi's genius lies in how he subtly hides the heat of desire beneath the coolness of form: a blush, the west chamber, a branch leaning over a wall. The same restraint appears in classical Chinese poetics. The unsaid, the withheld, the stolen — these are what make the heart race. 雨中花慢.邃院重帘 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 英译: 闵晓红(2024.04) 邃院重帘何处，惹得多情，愁对风光。 睡起酒阑花谢，蝶乱蜂忙。 今夜何人，吹笙北岭，待月西厢。 空怅望处，一株红杏，斜倚低墙。 羞颜易变，傍人先觉，到处被着猜防。 谁信道，些儿恩爱，无限凄凉。 好事若无间阻，幽欢却是寻常。 一般滋味，就中香美，除是偷尝。 Reference: 1. Baikebaidu.com（百度百科） 2. Oxford Academic (Oxford University Press)/ Shakespeare and Sexuality by Stanly Wells; 3. Picture from Google search on

A Farewell Drink with Qian Mufu -to the tune of The Celestial Man by the River Chinese original: Su Shi (11th AC, art name 'Dongpo') English version: Julia Min (Mar. 2024) Since we last parted at the capital gate, three times the firewood’s been replaced. You roam the land not by choice but by fate, yet the spring spirit still lives on your face: An old well runs deep, untroubled by ripples; Bamboo with autumn joints is a real grace. It’s a shame tonight will see you sail away, alone beneath a pale moon in drifting clouds. When shall we drink together after this day? And you, singer—loosen your young brow: Life is just a long journey of toil and moil. I, too, am a wanderer in the endless crowd. Appreciation: In 1091, Su Shi returned to govern Hangzhou in eastern China. It was a very productive time for him, not just in poetry but in his contributions to the city. His friend Mufu, however, was undergoing a downturn in his career, being assigned from the capital to Yuezhou, a populous place south of the Yangtse River, and then to Yingzhou, a desolate town up north that had been heavily struck by earthquakes, floods, and a long drought. The grim prospect of the challenging post as Yingzhou Governor could have crushed a gentleman’s hope for a promising career, but Qianmu was a man with a free and easy spirit, still able to stay optimistic with a smile about the hardship ahead. Dongpo deeply admired his sophisticated and mature personality, comparing him to a calm well surface and bamboo of upright integrity. Then he felt a bit sad as the short reunion came to an end, sighing that his friend had to continue his journey up north. Well, sadness could touch him, but it never stayed with him for long, as we all know. His optimistic vigour would soon turn him to the sunny side, or at least, towards a broad-minded acceptance of sufferings, making peace with whatever comes along on his own journey. The whole poem is about his friend, but every line also reflects Dongpo himself. My English version sought to breathe life into both the parting sentiment and the wry self-awareness of the original, letting Su Shi's voice speak through a different language — without smoothing over his quiet helplessness or humour. 临江仙.送钱穆父 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 英译: 闵晓红(2024.03) 一别都门三改火， 天涯踏遍红尘。 一笑仍然作春温。 无波真古井， 有节是秋筠。 惆怅孤帆连夜发， 送行淡月微云。 樽前不用翠眉颦。 人生如逆旅， 我亦是行人。 Reference: picture from 知乎@李兆香

前赤壁赋 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 英译: 闵晓红(2024.05) 壬戌之秋，七月既望，苏子与客泛舟游于赤壁之下。清风徐来，水波不兴。举酒属客，诵明月之诗，歌窈窕之章。 少焉，月出于东山之上，徘徊于斗牛之间。白露横江，水光接天。纵一苇之所如，凌万顷之茫然。浩浩乎如冯虚御风，而不知其所止；飘飘乎如遗世独立，羽化而登仙。(冯 通：凭) 于是饮酒乐甚，扣舷而歌之。歌曰： “桂棹兮兰桨， 击空明兮溯流光。 渺渺兮予怀， 望美人兮天一方。 ... ...” 客有吹洞箫者，倚歌而和之。其声呜呜然，如怨如慕，如泣如诉；余音袅袅，不绝如缕。舞幽壑之潜蛟，泣孤舟之嫠妇。 苏子愀然，正襟危坐而问客曰：“何为其然也？”客曰：“‘月明星稀，乌鹊南飞。’此非曹孟德之诗乎？西望夏口，东望武昌，山川相缪，郁乎苍苍，此非孟德之困于周郎者乎？方其破荆州，下江陵，顺流而东也，舳舻千里，旌旗蔽空，酾酒临江，横槊赋诗，固一世之雄也，而今安在哉？ “况吾与子渔樵于江渚之上，侣鱼虾而友麋鹿，驾一叶之扁舟，举匏樽以相属。寄蜉蝣于天地，渺沧海之一粟。哀吾生之须臾，羡长江之无穷。挟飞仙以遨游，抱明月而长终。知不可乎骤得，托遗响于悲风。” 苏子曰：“客亦知夫水与月乎？逝者如斯，而未尝往也；盈虚者如彼，而卒莫消长也。盖将自其变者而观之，则天地曾不能以一瞬；自其不变者而观之，则物与我皆无尽也，而又何羡乎！ ”且夫天地之间，物各有主，苟非吾之所有，虽一毫而莫取。惟江上之清风，与山间之明月，耳得之而为声，目遇之而成色，取之无禁，用之不竭。是造物者之无尽藏也，而吾与子之所共适。”(共适 一作：共食) 客喜而笑，洗盏更酌。肴核既尽，杯盘狼籍。相与枕藉乎舟中，不知东方之既白。 A Drink in the River Moon at Red Cliff --A prose poem Chinese original: Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Zizhan', art name 'Dongpo') English version: Julia Min (May 2024) It was a clear autumn night in 1082, just after the full moon. I took my friends for a drink on a boat at Red Cliff. The Yangtze River seemed to doze into a peaceful slumber under the cool, silver moonlight. I raised a toast, and soon we began to hum and chant the famous moon poems from The Book of Ancient Songs, picking up the tune of the first lyric: "Her graceful charm is adorned." Soon, the fair Moon, free of clouds, had ascended well above the skyline of the rolling eastern hills, gracefully taking her place between the Dipper and the Hunter. We let our boat float freely across a sea of gleaming waves that joined the sky beyond. Before long, our spirits started riding high and breezy like wings riding the wind, roaming in the dome of firmament, as if we had entered the dream world of Heaven. On and on we toasted with drinks while tapping the boat sides to the rhythm, on and on we sang the famous romantic hymns: “On a cinnamon boat with magnolia oars, we row and row. Floating on the moonlight ripples, upstream we go and go. My yearning has been soaked in the song, so deep and long. Roaming in poetry motion, my beauty’s above and beyond. … …” Then one friend began echoing the song with his flute. The music touched a deep sentiment, full of yearning and longing, as if weeping or sighing. When he finished, the rhymes and vibes, like an unbroken thread, lingered on, rippling in the air across the dreaming river. Should there be a dragon living in a deep ravine, it would rise to dance in the sky. Should there be a widow alone in a boat nearby, she would surely be touched and cry. I was a bit lost in the shift of mood, becoming curious at the same time. So I sat up straight and asked my friend, “Why on earth did you pick such a sad tune for such a beautiful view?” He looked up and replied: “Just look beyond, in the expanse amidst the waters, ‘To the south the black crows fly,/ Through dimming stars in moonlit sky.’ Is this place a perfect match for the verse of Mengde? And over there, west and east, are Xiakou and Wuchang facing each other, with lush green hills rolling down both banks of the River. If this is not where Mengde was trapped by General Zhou, where could it be? The great and mighty general, who conquered Jianglin after taking Jingzhou, and down to here, he followed the Yangtze’s flow. His great fleet was said to cover hundreds of miles end to end, like a moving great wall holding up the sky with flags and sails. There he paused on the riverside, wielding a long spear in one hand, holding wine in the other. He chanted his “Short Verse Song”, pouring out wine to honour the roaring river.” My friend sighed and continued: “Nonetheless, as heroic and powerful as he was, where is he now? Even he could lose his mark in the running tides of time, so where could you and I stand in the long river? We are just a bunch of fishermen enjoying a drink on a leafy boat, and leading a life by the river with elk, fish and shrimp, with a lifespan as short as a mayfly compared with the ever-present Nature, and a role as teeny tiny as a drop in the ocean. I can’t help but grieve that our human lives are but a moment, while the Yangtze flows without end. How I wish to be a celestial, roving the earth to the end in the company of the fair Moon. But it’s a dream that will never come true, so here I send all my sorrow through my flute to the cool wind.” I smiled and replied: “Do you truly understand the river and the moon? “The river flows on, yet the water still exists further beyond. The moon appears to wax and wane, yet unchanged its essence remains. If you look at the world through the lens of change, the earth and the heavens cannot stay the same for even a moment, but if you observe the world from a constant viewpoint, all things, including us all, are eternal. “So why should we hunger for anything beyond our means? The world changes, but the rule of change doesn’t change. Every experience in our lives is governed by this law, defining each individual’s fate with an accurate score, not a penny less, not a penny more. And, the breeze on the river is known as the breeze as it reaches your ear. The moonlight is defined as moonlight as your eyes pick up its pleasant beams. Such treasures of Creation are boundless since ancient times, shared by you and me alike. They stay full all the time, never run dry, never decline.” My friend broke into an understanding smile, then rinsed his cup in the river for a new round of wine. We finished every dish, leaving the tables littered with empty cups and plates. Before long, the Moon found us reclining on each other, sinking into oblivion of dreams, unaware that dawn was already breaking in the east… Notes: 1. The Book of Songs: the first collection of lyric poems printed in China. If I may, I’d translated it into ‘The Book of Song Lyrics’ to convey its nature as sung verse. 2. “On a cinnamon boat …”: a lyric with the subject and expressions borrowed from the poems of Qu Yuan (c. 339 – 278 BC), a great patriotic poet-statesman of the Chu State during the Warring States period. 3. ‘in the expanse amidst the waters’: An expression I borrowed from Genesis 1:6-8 “God said: Let there be a firmament made amidst the waters:…” 4. ‘To the south the black crows fly,/ Through dimming stars in moonlit sky.’: verse from Cao Cao’s heroic poem “Short Verse Song”. Cao Cao (social name Mengde, 155–220 CE) was one of the greatest generals of the late Han dynasty. 5. General Zhou (175–210 CE), social name Gongjin, was a military general under the warlord Sun Ce in the Eastern Han dynasty. Please refer to Su Shi’s famous poem I translated: “Meditating on the Past at the Red Cliff” （《念奴娇. 赤壁怀古》）https://www.rhymesandvibes.com/post/meditating-on-the-past-at-the-red-cliff-1 6. Jingzhou … Jianglin: Jingzhou, a state of eight districts (covering areas in today’s Hunan and Hubei Provinces; Jianglin City was its administrative seat. 7. Xiakou and Wuchang: Xiakou is today’s Wuchang, while the Wuchang of Su Shi’s time is today’s E’zhou, both in Hubei Province. 8. a drop in the ocean: borrowed from the 13th-century Persian poet Rumi – "you are not a drop in the ocean, you are the entire ocean in a drop." 9. not a penny more, not a penny less: borrowed from Jeffery Archer’s novel— a localisation in translation. For Appreciation: This is a travelogue in the form of prose poetry. Su Shi's original calligraphy remains well preserved at the National Palace Museum in Taiwan. Both the poem and the script help us sense the man himself: the bold, running strokes of his brush, the quiet defiance behind his exile, the river and moon that kept him company in his loneliness. There are many sources available online today introducing this famous work, both on the prose poem and on the calligraphy, since both have been regarded as landmark works in the history of prose poetry and Chinese calligraphy. I shall add only my views on the philosophical insights in the concluding paragraphs. It’s clearly influenced by Zhuangzi’s Daoist ideas. One might say that Daoism worked best for Su Shi or Dongpo during his days of banishment in Huangzhou, Huizhou, and Danzhou. His literature during these periods highlighted an unconventional, detached mindset that went with the flow or ‘Dao’ for a natural balance. In Daoism, everything is energy, so whatever happens in your life is generated by the flow of your own energy. By following that flow, one leads a happier life, accepting that whatever comes is one's own doing. Su Shi went to the roots of this dynamic and static world to explore the natural laws behind all things. Humans are but a living form of Nature, by Nature, and for Nature. The river flows and yet remains; the moon waxes and wanes and yet is never diminished. These are not mere consolations. They are, for Su Shi, the very structure of reality. The Song dynasty embraced a reserved, modest, and simple taste, in contrast to the romantic and extravagant Tang dynasty. One might say the Tang sang, while the Song reflected. Su Shi mastered both modes, but in this piece, reflection prevails. This rational, philosophical shift was typical of the Song dynasty, influencing writings, calligraphy, paintings, and music—and even everyday objects such as mirrors, which might bear a poem reminding that "appearance is only skin deep." I have approached this translation as a work of poetic reimagining. The original prose poem or ‘fu’ moves between verse and prose, between description and philosophy, between elegy and consolation. My task has been to carry that movement into English without losing its rhythm or depth. Where cultural references would stop the reader cold —for example, the July full moon that is not July in the English world, ‘August’ is used; for the Ox constellation that is not Orion, ‘Hunter’ is chosen. I have adapted freely, not to betray the text, but to welcome the English readers into it. Where a single word could do the work of a footnote, I have chosen the word. "Adorned" carries the causal link between a lady's grace and a gentleman's pursuit. "Paused on the riverside" gives Cao Cao a moment of stillness. "Known as the breeze" and "defined as moonlight" restore the perceptual immediacy of Su Shi's argument. This is not the only way to translate literature. But it is mine. ----- Reference: 1. baike.baidu.com; 2. Pictures from Google;

A Second Drink in the River Moon at Red Cliff --A prose poem Chinese original: Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Zizhan', art name 'Dongpo') English version: Julia Min (May 2024) It was the third full moon since our last drink on the river. On my way home to Linggao after my day’s work at Snow Hall, I ran into two friends heading home via Muddy Slope. The October frost had stripped the trees bare, and the ground was covered with fallen leaves. Then the shadow began to take form. In the serene blue realm above, a fair moon smiled down upon us, sending gentle vibes throughout the night. Soon we found ourselves humming the same hymn in praise of the radiant beauty. The slope seemed too short a walk. I sighed, “How often do we see such a breezy night with a beaming moon in a cloudless sky? Let’s not waste such a generous offer from Nature. But how can we celebrate without food and wine?” One friend opened his fish basket: “My day’s fishing has rewarded me with one fish at sunset. It has a big mouth and tiny scales like the River Song sculpin. Can you find some wine?” I hurried home, hoping my wife might have something. To my joy, she said, “You don’t know how lucky you will be! I have long saved about 2 litres to meet your urgent needs.” So here we were, with fish and wine, heading again towards the boat by Red Cliff. Only three months since our last visit, about the same time, same place, and same people on the same boat, yet we were greeted by a very different world. The river gurgled, splashing and splooshing against the cliff, a steep wall hundreds of metres high. The water level had now receded greatly, revealing many more rocks along the bank. The distant hills and mountains appeared higher, with the moon seeming smaller over a skyline clearer and broader. The tides pushed our boat towards the cliff. I ventured ashore for a climb, holding the corners of my robe to find footholds. Often, I had to hang onto vines and branches like a monkey to make my way through the bushes amid savage rocks. As I approached the raptors’ cliff nests – an uncharted territory never before visited by humans -- I had a bird’s-eye view of the Yangtze River at what is called the Palace of Fengyi, home of the water god. My two friends stayed safe on the boat, scared of the steep climb. The river's surface began to roll with white waves as the gusty wind grew, sending a chill down my spine. Again, I was by myself, completely off the beaten track. With a loud whistle, I found myself trembling in the surrounding bushes, followed by a long echo rippling through the valley. It was a breathless moment filled with fear and a nameless sadness. I realised the journey had to end halfway. So I went down to the boat and joined my mates. Together to the centre of the river we rowed, and let the little boat drift freely with the flow. Just as midnight was approaching, a shriek from some large bird pierced the serene world across the river. It was a crane, giant and lonely—with white wings the size of a wheel and a solid black tail like a Daoist's robe—who announced himself by flying past us, just missing the gunwale. Before long, we all went back home, settled and safe. Then, in a dream, a Daoist visited me. After a courteous bow, he asked me with a gentle smile: “Was it an enjoyable night at the Red Cliff?” I was curious and wished to know his name, but he lowered his head and silent he remained. “Oh my, my goodness! It was you last night, was it? You made a loud call and flew past our boat from east to west.” The Daoist only smiled back at me as he disappeared into the mist. Startled awake, I rushed out of the Lingao residence. There was no one in sight, just a vacant world, a void night… 后赤壁赋 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(2024.06) 是岁十月之望，步自雪堂，将归于临皋。二客从予，过黄泥之坂。霜露既降，木叶尽脱。人影在地，仰见明月，顾而乐之，行歌相答。已而叹曰：“有客无酒，有酒无肴，月白风清，如此良夜何？”客曰：“今者薄暮，举网得鱼，巨口细鳞，状似松江之鲈。顾安所得酒乎？”归而谋诸妇。妇曰：“我有斗酒，藏之久矣，以待子不时之须。”于是携酒与鱼，复游于赤壁之下。 江流有声，断岸千尺。山高月小，水落石出。曾日月之几何，而江山不可复识矣。予乃摄衣而上，履巉岩，披蒙茸，踞虎豹，登虬龙，攀栖鹘之危巢，俯冯夷之幽宫，盖二客不能从焉。划然长啸，草木震动；山鸣谷应，风起水涌。予亦悄然而悲，肃然而恐，凛乎其不可留也。反而登舟，放乎中流，听其所止而休焉。 时夜将半，四顾寂寥。适有孤鹤，横江东来，翅如车轮，玄裳缟衣，戛然长鸣，掠予舟而西也。须臾客去，予亦就睡。梦一道士，羽衣蹁跹，过临皋之下，揖予而言曰：“赤壁之游乐乎？”问其姓名，俯而不答。呜呼噫嘻！我知之矣。畴昔之夜，飞鸣而过我者，非子也耶？道士顾笑，予亦惊寤。开户视之，不见其处。 Notes： 1. Snow Hall: the residence Su Shi built in Huangzhou during his exile, named after a snow painting on its walls. 2. Linggao: Su Shi's temporary dwelling near the Yangtze River, where he lived before Snow Hall was built. 3. River Song sculpin: a famous fish from the Song River, celebrated in Chinese literature as a delicacy. 4. Palace of Fengyi: the mythical palace of Fengyi, the god of the Yangtze River in Chinese folklore. 5. The crane's black-and-white plumage: Its colouration mirrors the traditional attire of a Daoist priest—a black mantle over a white robe. This prepares the reader for the crane's transformation into a Daoist in Su Shi's dream. Appreciation: This prose poem serves as a companion to the previous one, sharing a similar background and continuing the thematic progression. Together, they have been celebrated as pioneering works of a new era, marking a new category — prose poetry — distinct from any previously written prose. Well, this is but one small brainchild among the many outstanding creations Su Shi produced during his dramatic lifetime… As the sister piece, this one would be expected to present some big philosophical ideas about the world, as in the first one. Some readers might feel somewhat disappointed after the first reading, as if it were an unfinished work, because no evocative point seems to have been made. Hence, contemporary critics favour the first one. But in the Song dynasty, this second piece was more embraced for its simplicity and symbolic resonance, because the ‘a vacant world, a void night’ evokes a larger, more boundless imagination compared with the ‘physical’ world we see. Like many paintings of the dynasty, it favoured a minimal use of paint, colours, and subjects to evoke diverse reactions in readers’ minds. Or you may say that artistic value arises from the collaboration between the artist and readers' creative minds. The more void left there, the more space for the imagination, the more adaptable and longer the value of the artistic work. This second moon-night drink with friends can be divided into three parts. The first part serves as a prelude, ushering readers back to the first boat drink, with a brief mention of his second wife, who had shared his hardships and understood his needs. The second part focuses on their experience aboard, ashore, and aboard – an implication of the ups and downs in his life: from a high official in the Royal Court to a common folk struggling for survival in the fields, and his quiet wish to be called back. It was early winter, a much drier season, when he could have a clearer view beyond – a reflection of his spiritual progress in his world outlook. The obstacles that had looked fearful had now become a minor issue before a stronger mind. The moon was small compared with mighty mountain ranges; the hidden stones in rocky waters were revealed when the water level changed — referring to the literary crime, a sheer setup by his opponents. Unexpectedly, the theme shifts from seasonal observation of nature to myth and theology, then to the celestial realm. It clearly indicates his persistent spiritual pursuit of a liberated, secluded lifestyle free of all worldly attachments. Well, we all know Dongpo loved the world so much that he would never, in reality, become a Daoist. It was just a thought, like a rippling stream in his mind, comforting and nourishing, but not a replacement. The shift from the real to the void, from humans to celestials, offers readers a more dynamic experience. It can also be seen as a duality that runs through many minds: seemingly conflicting, yet in need of each other like yin and yang, ultimately for balance and harmony in one’s life. Reference: 1. baike.baidu.com; 2. 《熊逸说苏轼.30讲》; 3. picture from “头条--墨语江湖;

临江仙·彩虹落九天 —作于新西兰之旅，游玩剑镇后 2026年4月22日 By Julia Min 宴坐剑镇山后， 层林尽染醉秋。 彩虹仙子卧云游。 一壶桂花酿， 酒酣忘归舟。 彩笔三挥天穹， 墨珠悄落坡头。 和风弄叶诉温柔。 仙乡新西兰， 何似在瀛洲？

东坡八首（第八首） (余至黄州二年，日以困匮。故人马正卿哀余乏食，为于郡中请故营地数十亩，使得躬耕其中，地既久荒，为茨棘瓦砾之场，而岁又大旱，垦辟之劳，筋力殆尽。释耒而叹，乃作是诗，自愍其勤。庶几来岁之入，以忘其劳焉！) 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 英译: 闵晓红(2024.05) 马生本穷士，从我二十年。 日夜望我贵，求分买山钱。 我今反累生，借耕辍兹田。 刮毛龟背上，何时得成毡？ 可怜马生痴，至今夸我贤。 众笑终不悔，施一当获千。   Eight Poems on my Farm, the East Slope (8) (In our second year in Huangzhou, we often went hungry. My friend Ma Zhengqing, a poor scholar, negotiated with local officials to secure a piece of abandoned military land for us—about ten acres, long deserted, rocky and infertile. We worked ourselves ragged clearing rubble, thistles, and thorns, only to face a drought that threatened our crops. Now the long-awaited rain has come. I write these eight poems in gratitude for our teamwork, hoping our hard labour will be rewarded in the years to come and that we may one day be free of such toil.)   Chinese original by Su Shi English version by Julia Min (Apr. 2024)   Mr Ma is my friend, a poor scholar,          And a follower of mine for twenty years. Sincere is his wish for my rise to fortune, And for a share of land when he retires.   Now he is stuck with me in my bad luck. Working his socks off like a local farmer. It's like an attempt to make a winter coat By scraping fur from the back of a turtle.   Yet I remain a man of values in his eyes, And no one could ever change his mind. All these years, little have I given him, But a drop is paid in return for a spring. Appreciation: Ma Zhengqing was a poor scholar from Yongqiu—so poor, Su Shi once joked, that if they competed for poverty, "Ma would surely take first place." According to Su Shi's own account, Ma could not even afford to bury his own grandfather and father. As a young man, Ma served as Prefect of the Imperial Academy, a job he lost after Su Shi wrote a line of Du Fu's poem on his wall about a worthy scholar growing old in obscurity. Ma understood, and resigned that very day, choosing integrity over office.   When Su Shi was exiled to Huangzhou after the "Crow Terrace Poetry Case" in 1080, most acquaintances abandoned him. He was disgraced, stripped of rank and salary, with a starving family. It was then that Ma appeared. He negotiated with local officials for ten acres of abandoned military land—rocky, overgrown with thorns and rubble, but land. He also helped Su Shi build a modest house on the eastern slope, which Su Shi named "Snow Hall." From that plot and that house came the name "Su Dongpo."   Ma followed Su Shi for thirty-four years, rain or shine. That is why the teasing, self-mocking tone of this poem—"scraping fur from the back of a turtle"—conceals hidden tears. Su Shi knew how fortunate he was. The final lines speak the truth: "All these years, little have I given him, / But one drop is paid in return for a spring."   This reminds me of Shakespeare's Sonnet 18: "So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee." Su Shi gave Ma something eternal—a place in his poetry. Through these lines, we still remember the poor scholar from Yongqiu who helped create "Su Dongpo."   Reference: 1. Picture from 360doc.com (海曲上人）

洗儿戏作 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 英译: 闵晓红(2024.04) 人皆养子望聪明， 我被聪明误一生。 惟愿孩儿愚且鲁， 无灾无难到公卿。   A Joke for the Baptism of my Newborn Chinese original: Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Zizhan', art name 'Dongpo') English version: Julia Min (Apr. 2024)   All parents want their sons to be clever, yet my cleverness has wrecked me forever. I pray this one be dull, be dense, even rude, as good fortune favours dummies and fools. Appreciation: The Chinese Baby Baptism (xǐ'ér 洗儿) is a traditional ceremony where a newborn is bathed for the first time three days after birth. While most parents and relatives wish for their child to become handsome, intelligent, and wealthy, Su Shi wanted his son to be stupid and simple-minded for a smooth life. This poem reflects his feelings after 103 days in prison, followed by banishment to Huangzhou, where his fourth son was born in 1083.   He understood that cleverness could make one a victim of one's own ingenuity. The poem is a joke, but the laughter is bittersweet. It echoes Daoist wisdom — "The great sage appears foolish" — and also reminds me of Forrest Gump, where Mama says, "Stupid is as stupid does." In a world that punishes the sharp, the dull-witted sometimes survive the longest. That is Su Shi's hard-won truth, wrapped in a smile for his newborn. The challenge in rendering this poem lies in preserving its ironic, self-mocking tone while keeping the language natural in English. Su Shi's original opens with a universal truth ("人皆养子望聪明") and then subverts it with personal bitterness ("我被聪明误一生"). The translation mirrors this structure: a flat statement followed by a colloquial, almost wry confession — "yet my cleverness has wrecked me forever." The repeated "be" in line three ("be dull, be dense, even rude") echoes the earnest "be clever" of line one, subtly hinting at performance rather than nature. The final line adopts a proverbial cadence — "good fortune favours dummies and fools" — to deliver the punchline with mock solemnity. Su Shi was joking, but only half. The translator's task is to let both halves show. Reference: 1. Picture from Google search