浣溪沙 . 簌簌衣巾落枣花（其三） 原作：苏轼 英译：戈登.奥赛茵，闵晓红 簌簌衣巾落枣花， 村南村北响缲车。 牛衣古柳卖黄瓜。 酒困路长惟欲睡， 日高人渴漫思茶， 敲门试问野人家。 Blossoms of date trees rain down on shirts and kerchiefs  - to the tune of Huanxisha Chinese original: Su Shi (11 th  century) Old English version: G. Osing, J. Min & H. Huang (1991) New English version: Julia Min (2025)   Blossoms of date trees rain down on shirts and kerchiefs, The village hums with joy as spinning wheels grow busy. An old man in cape sells cucumbers by an old willow tree.   And me, drinking wine along the way drowsing in fatigue. The sun is high and I feel dry, really, for a cup of tea; - Good as home is the first door here in the hills I can see. Appreciation: This is very much in Su Shi’s key: rustic detail, bodily fatigue, gentle humour, and sudden warmth at the end. A series of five short poems was composed there and then, reflecting the simple but intense lives of the villages he experienced during his stay, offering a glimpse of the lives of common subjects in artistic works, a change from the Tang’s ‘Glorious Grace’. It’s also a major shift in the East Renaissance.    In the spring of 1078, there was a drought around Xuzhou area where Su Shi, as the governor, led local people in prayers before altars for rains – a traditional service in China even in some remote countryside today. By early summer, the land was relieved by rains and followed with a harvest, so it was time to show gratitude to the gods.   For your information, the smell of the cocoons’ being boiled actually is anything but inviting, but it is fragrant to the people in times of good harvest after the long dry spell is lifted. Reference: Reference: Old version: 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) – “Blossoms of date trees rain down on shirts and kerchiefs/when, everywhere in the village, the spinning wheel is heard./An old man in his staw cape sells cucumbers under the oldest willow./And me? I’ve been drinking again along the way and want only to drowse./The sun is high and I’m thirsty, really, for a cup of tea./The first door I come to here in the hills is good as home.” 古诗文网https:// so.gushiwen.cn/ All pictures are selected from google search.

浣溪沙 . 麻叶层层苘叶光（其二） 苏轼 麻叶层层苘叶光， 谁家煮茧一村香? 隔篱娇语络丝娘。 垂白杖藜抬醉眼， 捋青捣麨软饥肠， 问言豆叶几时黄? Nothing beats arriving at a village ( PoemTwo） - to the tune of Huanxisha Chinese original: Su Dongpo English version: Julia Min (2025) Nothing beats arriving at a village filled with the aroma of boiling cocoons, and strolling through a piemarker’s foliage,- lush green fields glowing on a sunny afternoon. Women laugh as they chat through the fences, while winding cane giant katydids to the full. A tipsy elder leans on his goosefoot cane, gathering some green grain to pound it for food. I asked if the bean leaves would go golden soon. Appreciation: For appreciation, please go to the last poem in this series: " Blossoms of date trees rain down on shirts and kerchiefs " Reference: Old version:   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) – “Through dense foliage of hemp, brushing aside branches of piemarker, shining and luxuriant./What’s better than coming to a village filled with the fragrance of boiling cocoons?/The ladies go on chatting through the fences, winding all the while cane giant katydids./A white-haired fellow on his goose-foot cane raises drunk eye-lids/And goes on gathering the green grain to pound for food for hungry bellies/ I can’t help asking how soon the bean leaves will turn yellow.” baike.baidu.com (百度百科) picture selected from Google search.

卜算子. 缺月挂疏桐 （黄州定慧院寓居作） 原作：苏东坡 (11世纪) 英译：闵晓红（2022） 缺月挂疏桐， 漏断人初静。 谁见幽人独往来？ 飘缈孤鸿影。 惊起却回头， 有恨无人省。 拣尽寒枝不肯栖， 寂寞沙洲冷。 A Waning Moon Descended the Parasol Tree （composed at Dinghui Monastery,Huangzhou） -       to the tune of Busuanzi written by Su Dongpo（11th century） translated by Julia Min (2025)   A waning moon descended the parasol tree near a wanderer in the dark -- just the old me. The night smiled calmly as water clock ceased, and a goose lingered alone in the judging mist.   It startled into the air, turned his head to check, His regret found only a place barren and bleak. No company, no home on cold branches to rest, Just a stubborn sense of pride on a sandy beach. For appreciation: Composed in 1082 during his first career downturn after being banished from the Royal Court to this remote little town of Huangzhou (in today’s Hubei Province), located on the north bank of the Yangtze River. He arrived here in 1080 with his family and had to live in a modest house in Dinghui Monastery, still under the oversight of the town’s magistrate. Without any income from government, he had to plough the fields for food like the local farmers – a challenge that tested his tolerance and endurance, but it also shaped him into a resilient and gracious mind, as well as a great poet, calligrapher, and painter. Huangzhou indeed witnessed most of his greatest works, cherished for a thousand years onward.   The poem includes a few metaphorical touches. A waning moon suggests a decline in life. A parasol tree symbolises decent and noble qualities, as it is the only tree the king of birds, the phoenix in China, would rest upon. Here, the leafless parasol tree in winter represents a miserable time for a noble being. The goose is simply a personification of the poet himself. Chinese culture has long regarded the wild geese as symbols of loyalty, trust, and devoted love for family.  The concluding lines are seen as his courage to face challenges and resist drifting away with the social current.   The mood and tone remind me of Du Fu's "A Solitary Wild Goose" (《孤雁》), and in the western world, Samuel Taylor Coleridge's "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" --"Alone, alone, all, all alone, / Alone on a wide wide sea!"    Reference: 1. Blooming Alone in Winter by Gordon Osing, Julia Min and Huang Haipeng，published by the People's Publication House Henan Province in 1991 (《寒心未肯随春态》戈登.奥赛茵，闵晓红，黄海鹏) (“A waning moon hung in the Decembered limbs of the parasol tree,/The top of the hourglass is empty, and people are deeply asleep./Who’ll see the loneliness of my coming and going/In the mists, faint as that shadow of a swan.//Startled into the air, looking back startled?/But no one cares about the disdains of such an one./Who would not take shelter in all the frozen branches,/Wants no chances but choosing rest in wintered sand.”) 2. pictures from baike.baidu.com（百度百科）

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: Standing in Mizhou (modern Zhucheng, Shandong), the Transcending Tower was a building 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 a strong sense of absence. In this masterpiece, he transformed 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 nature, but a soul's melancholy. He painted the landscape with his own longing, bringing a lyrical intimacy that a Western reader would instantly recognise as profoundly romantic. One can almost hear a distant echo from Wordsworth in his solitary gaze, finding the universal within the deeply personal.   Notes:  1.Forbidden Fire Day, or 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’ in the original：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。

浣溪沙 . 旋抹红妆看使君（其一） 原作：苏轼 英译：戈登.奥赛茵，闵晓红 旋抹红妆看使君， 三三五五棘篱门。 相挨踏破茜罗裙。 老幼扶携收麦社， 乌鸢翔舞赛神村。 道逢醉叟卧黄昏。 The women rush home for a touch of makeup (Poem One) --to the tune of Huanxisha Original Chinese: Su Dongpo English version: Julia Min (2025)   The women rush home for a touch of makeup, back in threes and fives as the governor comes. At their thorn-fenced gates, they jostle on tiptoe, Scuffing the trains of their new crimson robes.      Folk songs and drums call the gods to the streets. The crows and eagles dive low in greedy sweeps. By dusk, no one’s around but me, half drunk,-- A cheerful old man dozing off in the settling dust. Appreciation: For appreciation, please go to the last poem in this series: Blossoms of date trees rain down on shirts and kerchiefs . Reference: 1. baike.baidu.com (百度百科) 5. All pictures are selected from google search.

江城子·十年生死两茫茫 （乙卯正月二十日夜记梦） 苏轼 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) old English version: G. Osing, J. Min & H. Huang(1991) new English version: Julia Min (2025) It’s ten years you’re gone, and I’m living, in two worlds apart, and wearing. I’ve tried to feign a numb forgetting, Yet memory lives in death, forever staying. A thousand miles away lies your resting place; To whom can this loneliness be confessed? You would not know me by now: Time has silvered my temples and laid its dusty trace across my brow.   In the hush of night when dreams run deep, you return to me, still young, still fair; -- by the latticed window, poised in grace, soft hands adorning your long hair. Our eyes meet and freeze, -- a silent speech softening into tears. Then the dream shatters, leaving only thin air. Where ur small pines cried in cold moonlight, my heart grows thinner year on year. Picture retrieved from Google Notes: 1. ‘It's ten years …’: Su Shi's wife Wang Fu died in 1065 and was buried in Pengshan County, Sichuan Province, quite far from Mizhou where Dongpo wrote this poem. 2. ‘ridge of pines’: the site of her burial was within Su Shi’s family burial yard where Dongpo planted, as the legend has it, 3000 pine trees for her and his father as they were buried there at the same time. For Appreciation: This poem is widely regarded as one of the earliest and most touching elegies written in the ci form. Unlike the grand, rhetorical mourning poems of earlier times, this ci is characterised by a quiet intimacy with a brief tender moment they once shared.   When Su Shi composed this poem in 1075, ten years had passed since the death of his first wife, Wang Fu. During that decade, he himself had experienced major political ups and downs, with dramatic shifts in various official posts. Yet the loss that remained most vivid—perhaps the one untouched by time—was the memory of his wife.   The poem’s second stanza is particularly admired: a dream of domestic simplicity, free from flowering rhetoric. It recalls a small, private scene: her small, crafted window, her dressing table, her loosened hair, and two people gazing at each other as if words had no play. In the understated authenticity of this memory, scholars find an enduring tenderness rarely matched in classical literature.   What gives the poem its lasting effect is its subtlety. Dongpo does not lament loudly; instead, he preserves love through ordinary details —gestures, familiar postures, unspoken emotions. This demonstrates the unique ability of ci poetry to express subtle, deeply human feelings: grief without despair, longing without excess, memory without artifice.   This elegy stands today not only as a testament to Su Shi’s personal sorrow but also as a masterpiece that enriches the expressive possibilities of Song-dynasty literature, illuminating how love, even in loss, can transcend the boundaries of time.   You may also compare this elegy with a dream-vision counterpart in the West, where you’ll find similar sentiments in John Milton’s sonnet: “Methought I saw my late espoused saint” written after the death of Milton’s second wife. The wife appears in a dream, radiant, silent, unreachable. The poem ends with awakening—loss renewed: “I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night.” Reference： 1. old English version: Blooming Alone in Winter by Gordon Osing, Julia Min and Huang Haipeng，published by the People's Publication House Henan Province in 1991 (《寒心未肯随春态》戈登.奥赛茵，闵晓红，黄海鹏) – “January12,1075: My Dream – to the tune of jiangchengzi”(It’s ten years now you’re gone and I’m living, worlds apart and fading./If I’ve tried hard not to miss you, I say also I can’t forget./It’s a thousand miles to your tomb; to whom can I tell my loneliness?/You’d not know me now, my face so lined, my temples frosted.//In the mist of my dream-world at night I go home once again/And watch you adorning yourself carefully in your dressing room./Our eyes meet, we’re together in silence, the dream ends in tears./I swear my heart breaks further each year/where the moon brightens your ridge of little pines.)   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

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。 苏轼 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 ‘River Rhyme (prelude)’ (I wrote this in 1076 for the Moon Festival as well as for my brother Ziyou after drinking alone through the night.)   Chinese original: Su Shi ( 11 th  Century ) Old En. version: Gordon Osing & Julia Min(1990) New En. version: Julia Min (2025)   When was the Moon ever so bright? With a cup in hand filled with wine, I ask the vast, black-blue Empyrean. What year is it in Heaven tonight? Could I be taken there on a wind ride?   But I fear it must be cold up so high in the riches of the Moon's jade palace. I’d rather dance a satire to the rhymes, along with the lonely shadow of mine for some earthly vibes of humankind.   The Moon drifts past the red pavilion side, Lowers her cozy gaze across my chamber, 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 Heaven and Mankind. The moon waxes and wanes, dims and shines. We have ups n downs, welcomes n goodbyes. May we, now and always, be blissful at heart, and join under the one Goddess when apart. （ Other versions ( 许渊冲/林语堂) for your reference） Picture retrieved from Google Notes: 1.     ‘What year …’ : It is believed by the Chinese that three days in Heaven are equal to three years on earth , so the dates on Heaven and Earth differ. 2.     ‘the Moon’: Legend has it that there is a palace called Guang Han on the moon. The goddess Chang E is said to inhabit the moon palace, so she is also called ‘the Moon Goddess. Appreciation: For readers, one of the most inspiring sights is watching a great man struggle against adversity, from which his greatest works can arise. And this is a living example.   This masterpiece was written by Su Shi in Mizhou in 1076, a tough time for the poet because of his opposition to the New Law (proposed by Wang Anshi), which was approved and put into effect. Feeling estranged from the Emperor’s favour, he asked to be sent away from the court to serve as Mizhou’s mayor. His wife had left him, and he hadn’t seen his brother in seven years. He yearned to escape into the legendary jade palace of the Moon Goddess, a place of romantic art and beauty, and to live in seclusion away from the turmoil of the Song political scene. Yet, he was also cautious of the cold perfection of that celestial realm. After all, Su Shi is more a man of the world than a Daoist of fairylands.   It's the same tension between the longing for a perfect, secluded artistic ideal and the fearful, human rejection of its lifeless perfection in John Keats's "Ode on a Grecian Urn" (published 1820). The famous, chilling address ‘Cold Pastoral!’ pictures his "cold perfection of her empire." The urn is a ‘friend to man’ but offers a cold, philosophical consolation ("Beauty is truth...") from its immortal, silent distance. The poet, like Su Shi, ultimately stands in the world of "old age," "generations," and "woe," contemplating but not joining that frozen, perfect realm. In the end, he remains attached to the warm, suffering, and transient world.   Another poet coming to my mind is William Wordsworth, especially in poems like "Tintern Abbey" or "Ode: Intimations of Immortality." He longs for the perfect, seclusive vision of nature he experienced as a youth (a kind of natural "palace"), but later fears the loss of that "celestial light." However, he resolves not in cold artifice but in the "sober coloring" of adult human consciousness, memory, and love—the "world" of mature relationships.   Reference: The old English version: 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)  --" After Drinking All Night at the Bingchen Autumn Festival":"When was the moon ever so bright? I ask the blue-black empyrean./What year is it in Heaven? What year this evening?/Would that I could be taken there on the wind!/But I fear the cold riches of the jade moon's mansions,/So instead I'll dance a satire to my shadow, like nothing on earth.//The moon alters my red pavilion, threads through the silk door, keeps me awake;/Give-up hating realities, my brother; the moon grows fuller and brighter as we feel losses./ What else is it but sorrows, joys, partings and reunions,/As the moon is clouded or brilliant, empty or brimming./The arrangement is ancient, hardest to those seeking perfection./Now and always, peace to our hearts, sharing the same/far-away Goddess in the One Heaven.// 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 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;

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 · 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；