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；

和子由渑池怀旧 原作: 苏轼（11世纪北宋） 英版: 闵晓红(2023) 人生到处知何似？ 应似飞鸿踏雪泥。 泥上偶然留指爪， 鸿飞哪复计东西！ 老僧已死成新塔， 坏壁无由见旧题。 往日崎岖还记否？ 路长人困蹇驴嘶！ What is the human journey when compared? (In echo of my brother Ziyou’s “Remembering Mianchi”)   Chinese original: Su Shi English version: Julia Min   What is the human journey when compared? To the wild geese landing on thawing ground. They rest, then rise and vanish into the air, leaving claw prints in muddy snow all around. As for the marks, east or west, who would care?   The old monk is now just ash in a new pagoda. The wall where we left verses has tumbled down. You asked if I could recall our teenage years — those winding roads and adventures we found. I see two boys on bony donkeys, both knackered! Notes: 1. Ziyou’s “Mianchi in Memory” : Here’s the original poem in Chinese: 怀渑池寄子瞻兄 》(“相携话别郑原上, /共道长途怕雪泥。/归骑还寻大梁陌，/行人已渡古崤西。 // 曾为县吏民知否，/旧宿僧房壁共题。/遥想独游佳味少，/无言骓马但鸣嘶!”) Appreciation: This poem is a lyrical gift from Su Shi to his brother, Ziyou. It’s a thoughtful reply that turns a simple question into a profound meditation on life. The central idea is beautiful: our lives are like a wild goose leaving footprints in melting snow. The marks are real, but they don’t last—the goose flies on, and the slush soon smooths over. This isn't a sad thought, but a freeing one. It asks, why cling to every past step?   In the second half, the poem shifts from this big idea to a warm, personal memory. The old monk is gone, their young graffiti has faded, but what remains is crystal clear: the two of them as boys, bone-tired on a long road, riding grumpy donkeys. This vivid, gritty snapshot becomes the one thing time cannot erase. It’s as if Su Shi is saying that while fame fades and walls crumble, the shared journey—the real, exhausting, human experience of it—is what truly lasts. The poem quietly moves from letting go of life’s small traces to holding tight to its deepest bonds.   This English version makes an ancient poem feel fresh and familiar by using clear, vivid language. It paints strong images, like “thawing ground” and “tumbled down,” without getting too lofty. The bold choice to end with a word like “knackered” grounds the memory in real, physical exhaustion. This honest, relatable tone reminds us these were real people on a hard road. By blending thoughtful imagery with plain-spoken words, it invites readers to see their own journeys in Su Shi’s timeless reflection. 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) “Remembering Old Times at Mian Chi” — ”A man’s life might take him anywhere. How should it go?/ It should be like the wild-goose’s footprints left in mud./Left there accidentally almost, whatever the need./The wild goose is gone, the prints go east and west, who cares?//Old Feng-Xian died, was burned, and turned into this pagoda;/The poem we made time erased from the ruined walls./Remember how rough and rugged were those old days./How wearied we were, how endless the path, how our donkeys neighed!” 3. painting from Google；

新城道中 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) 东风知我欲山行，吹断檐间积雨声。 岭上晴云披絮帽，树头初日挂铜钲。 野桃含笑竹篱短，溪柳自摇沙水清。 西崦人家应最乐，煮葵烧笋饷春耕。 On my way to Newtown written by: Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') En. trans.+ annot. by Julia Min ( Feb. 2023)   East Wind knows I’m off to see the mountains, So it stills the rain’s dripping music on eaves. The peaks are crowned with clouds like cotton. A treetop hangs a brass gong, the sun at dawn.   Each bud is a peach smile over bamboo fences, And willows wave at me across a clear stream. Westhill smells okra and bamboo shoots boiling, A hearty start to sow seeds in the fields of spring. Notes: 1. Newtown: a county of Hangzhou Prefecture (Xindong County Zhejiang Province today); Appreciation: This poem beautifully captures the Song Dynasty's love of nature. In 1073, Su Shi was Magistrate of Hangzhou and clearly relished every chance to escape official routines for the simple joys of the countryside, gaining first-hand insight into the real life under his governance.   A new kind of pastoral poetry: Influenced by Zhuangzi and the gentle rise of Zen, Su Shi moved beyond the ornate Tang style. He found poetry in everyday moments—a hike, a farmhouse kitchen, a friendly breeze. This playful, human-centred approach was centuries ahead of similar currents in European literature.   The poem sparkles with playful imagery: • East Wind turns thoughtful host, clearing the rain just as the poet heads out. • Mountain peaks wear cloudy cotton hats; the morning sun hangs like a brass gong in the trees. • Best of all, each bud is a peach smile over fences, and willows wave hello along the stream.   Everything feels alive and welcoming: The poem doesn't end with grand philosophy, but with something better: the smell of dinner. Okra and bamboo shoots boiling in a hillside kitchen—spring planting has begun. For Su Shi, those Western Hills families are the happiest people alive. Their days are gently shaped by the seasons, their labour seasoned with simple, good food. 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 the Road to Newtown : The east wind sees I go into the mountains today/And leaves-off raining, but for the music falling front eaves./The hills wear the last of the clouds, white caps of cotton,/And a fresh sun hangs in the treetops, a bright, brass gong.// Each peach-bud’s a smile by low bamboo fences/Where a stream and her willow are waving, the sands running clear/How lucky the man with so cozy a place, with its yields,/The woman who boils-up the shoots for her man in the field. ” ) 2. pictures from “蒋溥写意画”

雨中游天竺灵感观音院 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) 蚕欲老，麦半黄， 山前山后水浪浪。 农夫辍耒女废筐， 白衣仙人在高堂。 A Visit to Guanyin Temple in Mt. Tianzhu   Chinese original: Su Shi (1072, social name 'Dongpo') Englsih version: Julia Min ( Feb. 2023)   It's time for silkworms to spin their cocoons, For the wheat in the field to turn half gold. But in torrents the rain rolls, soaking the hills, Ploughs gather moss, and baskets stay unfilled, Yet the goddess in white, serene on her throne. Notes: 1.     Guanyin: A bodhisattva (an enlightened being of compassion) originating in Indian Buddhism and deeply revered in Chinese culture. By the Song Dynasty, Guanyin was predominantly worshipped as a feminine deity. She is often depicted holding a vase of sacred nectar in her left hand and a willow branch in her right, symbols of her power to heal and alleviate suffering. The imperial patronage of temples like this one during the Song era significantly elevated her status in the Chinese popular imagination. 2.     Tianzhu (天竺): "Celestial Pillar" Mountain, located in the West Lake area of Hangzhou. The name evokes the sacred geography of India, reflecting the Buddhist origins of the temple site. Appreciation: This succinct poem was composed in 1072, a period when the controversial New Law (Xinfa) were being implemented nationwide. Su Shi, while not opposed to reform in principle, was critical of the policies' rushed execution and the incompetent officials enforcing them, which he believed caused widespread disruption. Preferring direct observation to court debate, he requested a provincial post. Writing here as the newly appointed Prefect of Hangzhou, he documents the immediate crisis of flooded fields and paralysed farm work. The poem’s power lies in its stark juxtaposition: the desperate inaction of the farmers against the serene, unmoved deity. This is more than a landscape sketch; it is a potent political allegory and a silent, ironic protest against the authorities whose actions (or inaction) had created such suffering.   This poem reminds me of William Blake’s work “ London”. Both poets fix their gaze on the visible marks of systemic failure, shifting from Su Shi’s rain-drenched fields to Blake’s soot-blackened streets. Su Shi’s “ploughs abandoned, baskets empty still” are rural emblems of a social order broken by distant policy, just as Blake’s “marks of weakness, marks of woe” are urban signatures of a society spiritually diseased. In both, earthly anguish meets a chilling silence from inert authority: Blake’s “black’ning Church” and blood-stained Palace stand as unmoved as Su Shi’s “goddess in white, serene, enthroned.” This juxtaposition—suffering below, indifference above—transforms each poem from description into a quiet, furious indictment. 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) ("It’s time the silkworms made cocoons, for yellow wheat in the fields,/But waters pour down on waters pouring down from the hills./And no man is ploughing, not one woman’s basket is filled,/Yet the high temple goddess sits sleeping or perfectly still.) 3. pictures from Google；

念奴娇.中秋 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 英译及赏析: 闵晓红(2023) 凭高眺远，见长空万里，云无留迹。 桂魄飞来，光射处，冷浸一天秋碧。 玉宇琼楼，乘鸾来去，人在清凉国。 江山如画，望中烟树历历。 我醉拍手狂歌，举杯邀月，对影成三客。 起舞徘徊风露下，今夕不知何夕？ 便欲乘风，幡然归去，何用骑鹏翼！ 水晶宫里，一声吹断横笛。 A Blissful Night on the Moon Festival -to the tune of Niannujiao written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') En. trans.+ annot. by Julia Min ( 2023) This pavilion on the hill enjoys a splendid view: The Moon, a serene company in a clear clime, bathes the autumn world with refreshing light. On the phoenix wings, the deities take flight to gather in her honour at the Jade Palace high. She’s at her best of the year, a fulfilled delight. I almost spot the big laurel tree veiled in haze, above the smooth river and the dreamy hillsides. I start to sing to this tune, clapping to beat time. And dance a twisted satire to a twisting shadow. A toast to Goddess Luna! I hold my wine cup high, It’s no solo but a trio, with Her Grace in the sky. The tipsy mind feels no cold wind, no creeping frost, asking the ageless moon: what year up there tonight? Could I return to heaven riding the wind sans wings? I’d play my flute to make the celestials dewy-eyed. Notes: 1. on phoenix wings: Chinese legend holds that the deities travel on a phoenix in the Moon world. 2. Jade Palace: According to Chinese legend, the Moon is a crystal world. Many Chinese stories describe mansions on the Moon built of jade; the Chinese have always believed the calendar in Heaven differs from the one on Earth. 3. laurel tree: Again, from Chinese legend, there’s a huge bay laurel on the Moon; its symbolism is associated with purity, glory and success in both the East and the West. 4. the smooth river: refers here to the Yangtze River, the 2nd longest river in the world. 5. no solo but a trio: a sentimental scene borrowed from the famous Tang Dynasty poet Li Bai’s verse, as I translated, “I raised my cup high to the full moon for a toast. / It’s a reunion of Three including my shadow.” (李白“举杯邀明月,对影成三人。”) 6. what year up there: The Chinese have always believed the calendar in Heaven is different from the one on Earth, hence the question. A sense of humour is evident here, implying the big gap between these two worlds. Appreciation: Only a few years earlier, in 1076, Su Shi wrote what was considered the best poem for the Moon Festival – “When was the Moon ever so Bright”《水调歌头.明月几时有》. It was a moment of loneliness after his wife’s death and the absence of a family reunion with his brother Ziyou for the past seven years. Although there was a touch of longing to leave the hustle and bustle of his official world, away from his social and political attachments, he was led to believe that earthly joy was much cosier than the cold life of Heaven. Back then, a thread of hope for earthly happiness still ran through his grief.   Now, in this poem, his new chapter is painted with a near-death experience of 3-month imprisonment after a political setup by his opponent, followed by an exile life in the remote town of Huangzhou. He didn’t know then that this was just the first of three banishments meant to marginalise him and his followers from the dominant political circle. This year, 1082, saw him with his 2nd wife and kids in Huangzhou, where they had to farm to have food on the table, but at least he was with his family on the Moon Festival, a time of family reunion. The utter loneliness and melancholy clearly came out of his disappointment with the New Law, which brought more hazards for the country, and he didn’t get a chance to do anything about it.   His mind was led by imagery of life in Heaven, with little said about life on Earth compared with his previous poem for the Festival. The connotation is to completely let go of his worldly attachments and fly to an ever-widening world of Heaven, the jade palace of the Moon, and tell the celestials about his stories on Earth. The poem culminates in a surge of transcendent release—the fantasy of riding the wind without wings, of playing a flute note that would move the crystal world to tears. It is a powerful open ending: not a resolution, but an emotional wave suspended at its peak, leaving the reader’s heart suspended with it. Dramatic, romantic and inspiring…… Reference: 1. baike.baidu.com 百度 2. pictures from Google 3. other versions for your reference： https://y.qq.com/n/ryqq/mv/000IRvEY2jlLMH 喜马拉雅 https://m.ximalaya.com/waiyu/32890715/261743329