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；

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

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

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

To the wild north we go (Upon returning late with Governor Liu from Mt South)  --to the tune of Xingxiangzi written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') En. trans. by Julia Min (Jun.2025) To the wild north we go, galloping on shallow ripples, winding streams, ponds and pools, for a feast of early spring views.   With wine came many  toasts. Cheers of joy went over the moon. Long sleeves dance in the breeze. Subtle scent swirls the hair loops.   On flying geese the sunset softly glows. Soon the crystal sky reclaims quietude. Home we go, but one stays behind, alone, Watching us cross a bridge for a light pool. For Appreciation: This is a spontaneous piece of composition written right after a delightful trip on December 7, 1084, during the Shenzong era of the Song Dynasty. At that time, Su Shi and Liu Shiyan, the governor of Sizhou on Huainan East Road, visited Xuyi’s Mount South together and composed this poem upon their return in the twilight. The opening lines refresh the readership with light, breezy vibes of a first spring outing, set against a network of water landscapes in a suburban scene. The joyful mood of two friends searching for beauty in spring is vividly captured. They probably stayed for lunch and entertainment at a pavilion nestled on Mount South. It was normal in the Song period to bring servants and entertainers along for a governor’s trip. As wine was served with singing and dancing, their laughter echoed through the white clouds - a harmonious scene between people and nature. The last stanza depicts a man who enjoys solitude after a busy day, yet still focuses on the returning procession through the long bridge towards the floodlit town – a perfect conclusion to a lovely day with a playful touch of evocative imagination. 行香子·北望平川  (与泗守过南山晚归作) 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) 北望平川，野水荒湾。 共寻春、飞步孱颜。 和风弄袖，香雾萦鬟。 正酒酣时，人语笑，白云间。   飞鸿落照，相将归去。 淡娟娟、玉宇清闲。 何人无事，宴坐空山。 望长桥上，灯火乱，使君还。 Reference: baike.baidu.com picture from google

The Message of Autumn --to the tune of Xingxiangzi written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') En. trans. by Julia Min (May.2025) The first message of autumn is the parasol when last night her leaves turned yellow. The Wind also found me lost in the frost. He greeted me, asking why so sick and old. Speechless, with fingers in the air, I wrote: “seized by sickness, lost in drinking, and fallen with my lazy soul.”   This morning, I woke up to a falling world. The courtyard is covered like a snow field. It could be the Wind’s wordless response, that I’m getting to the end of my life cycle. No hope, so let my world be the drink I fill, soaked in wine, dazed in sight, and watching the candle wick flowering alone. photo from “小话诗词” For Appreciation: Autumn frost and wind in Chinese literature are usually associated with a helpless shifting from one’s young days or prime years to old age. The sentiments here reflect Dongpo’s melancholy over his life and health situation, and his despair for his political ambition. It was most likely composed after the death of his concubine and soul mate Zhaoyun ( 妾 -王朝云) during his second banishment, which was further to the south border town of Huizhou (today’s Huizhou, Guangdong Province). His readership can feel shocked, as we know he was not a man easily crushed, though he had every reason to feel so depressed. The optimistic Dongpo was always able to get back on his feet quickly. At least he could find consolation in some local cuisine and drinks with friends. I assume it was really bad this time that he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to give it all up now that his world was gone forever with the wind. Little did he realise that this pessimistic mood attracted something even worse later - his 3rd banishment to a most desolate place, Hainan Island, known as the ‘End of the World’. 行香子 . 秋与 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) 昨夜霜风, 先入梧桐。 浑无处、回避衰容。 问公何事，不语书空。 但一回醉，一回病，一回慵；   朝来庭下，飞英如霰， 似无言、有意伤侬。 都将万事，付与千钟。 任酒花白，眼花乱，烛花红。 Reference: baike.baidu.com

Special Memories (A letter to Shugu from Danyang) -to the tune of Xingxiangzi written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') En. trans. by Julia Min (Apr.2025) We have an outing to the river village at Jingkou. Plum petals adorn the sway of dress-hems in snow. Not the same company tho’ the same music notes. Old memories sing to me of places special -- Lake Tower, Goldrush Gate, and Solo Temple.   Some places saw hundreds of poems we composed. When dusted by the silk sleeve,  they’d be revealed. I wonder if anyone missed me since I left Hangzhou. Special friends, poetry buddies, and maybe more -- The peak clouds, the lake moon and the river willows. photo from zhuanlan.zhihu.com是但庵文“江上一犁春雨” For Appreciation: This is a nostalgic poem about the special memory of friendship triggered by an early spring excursion and similar scenery. No vocabulary like ‘friendship’ or ‘bond’ is mentioned, but the message is subtly hinted at in every line, making it more evocative and sophisticated.  The silk sleeve here refers to the traditional dress robe of dancing and singing girls, made of silk with intricate embroidery. It was customary in the Song Dynasty to include them in the excursion team for entertainment purposes. According to Fu Zao's "Dongpo’s Chronicles", Su Shi composed this poem in his letter to Shugu on his return journey from Jingkou to Danyang in February 1074. Shugu (official name Chen Xiang), the governor of Hangzhou and Su Shi's superior and poetry buddy, was also marginalised from the Court for opposing Wang Anshi's new law. In November 1073, Su Shi was on an official trip with his son-in-law, Liu Jin, to Changzhou and Runzhou, where he carried out a Disaster Relief order. The following year, he passed Danyang and visited Jingkou to bid farewell to Liu Jin. According to Fu Zao's "Dongpo Chronicles", Su Shi composed this poem in his letter to Shugu on his return journey from Jingkou to Danyang in February 1074. 行香子.   丹阳寄述古 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) 携手江村，梅雪飘裙。 情何限、处处消魂。 故人不见，旧曲重闻。 向望湖楼，孤山寺，涌金门。 寻常行处，题诗千首。 绣罗衫、与拂红尘。 别来相忆，知是何人。 有湖中月，江边柳，陇头云。 Reference: baike.baidu.com

Sonorous, like Pebbles Dancing on Stones --to the tune “The Drinking Lord” （Langya Valley is a green paradise of rolling mountains and flowing streams, where my mentor Ouyang Xiu (affectionately known as 'The Drinking Lord'), relished the natural melodies and the company of friends over wine. It was here that he penned his famous prose, “The Drinker’s Pavilion.” A decade later, the musician Shen Zun was inspired by Xiu’s work and visited the valley with his qin, leading to the creation of the successful ci-tune “The Drinking Lord”, which sensationally captured the sound of the running stream. Xiu loved the music and wrote a beautiful ci-poem for the tune. However, the rhyming lines seemed to drift apart from the musical notes. According to “The Ci-songs of Chu State”《楚词》, many musicians tried to create new tunes for the ci poem, but the music was often overshadowed by the verses. Now, over thirty years since their passing, Cui Xian, a master of qin music and Daoist monk from Lushan Mountain (Daoist name ‘Jade Stream’), came to me in Huangzhou seeking a ci-poem to fulfil his desire to complete Zun’s ci-tune.） written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') En. trans. by Julia Min (Mar.2025) Sonorous, like pebbles dancing on stones， Softened in echo thru the valley, it’s fulfilled. The soothing breeze whispers in moonlit hills. Who’s playing? Only our Drinking Lord knows. The music vibrates the hearts of dreaming dews. Even the best ears on earth can be overwhelmed. It’s a silent symphony on Someone’s fingers, -- a grace of the celestial, a solace for sleepless souls.   Xiu chanted here to the stream’s high and low. Now he’s gone, his vibes linger on silent notes. Mountains rejuvenate bare areas here and there. Rivers could run backward, though very rare. Xiu has left us forever to the isle of immortals, Though we miss him here chanting his ci-poems. photo from www.aboluowang.com  Appreciation:   Dongpo composed this song in memory of his beloved mentor Lord Ouyang Xiu. It’s another showpiece where an ordinary theme is made unique with the background story of this famous man. Not to mention, the sensational short phrases were wisely chosen to imitate the running rhythm of the stream through the valley – waterfalls on rocks, cascading flow over stones… Such a treat for the eye and the ear. The renowned music “The Drinking Lord” could have enriched readers’ imagination further with a yearning for a symphony with the earth melody and Xiu’s chanting. Apparently, the repeated 2-word structure in the initial two lines creates a rushing pace (maybe Shen used short musical notes in his tune) that immediately draws the readers to the loud waterfalls at Langya Valley. I have to admit that this is the first time I’ve ever read Su’s ci-poem with such an impressive start. It’s a rafting journey that starts on a rocky stream just before reaching a waterfall. A quick engagement is deliberately created for the artistic and natural effects.   醉翁操·琅然 （琅琊幽谷，山水奇丽，泉鸣空涧，若中音会，醉翁喜之，把酒临听，辄欣然忘归。既去十余年，而好奇之士沈遵闻之往游，以琴写其声，曰《醉翁操》，节奏疏宕而音指华畅，知琴者以为绝伦。然有其声而无其辞。翁虽为作歌，而与琴声不合。又依《楚词》作《醉翁引》，好事者亦倚其辞以制曲。虽粗合韵度而琴声为词所绳的，非天成也。后三十余年，翁既捐馆舍，遵亦没久矣。有庐山玉涧道人崔闲，特妙于琴，恨此曲之无词，乃谱其声，而请于东坡居士以补之云。） 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) 琅然，清圆。 谁弹? 响空山。 无言，惟翁醉中知其天。 月明风露娟娟，人未眠。 荷蒉过山前，曰有心也哉此贤。   醉翁啸咏，声和流泉。 醉翁去后，空有朝吟夜怨。 山有时而童颠，水有时而回川。 思翁无岁年，翁今为飞仙。 此意在人间，试听徽外三两弦。 Reference: baike.baidu.com

A Message to Huangzhou --to the tune of Rumenglinling written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') En. trans. by Julia Min (Apr.2025) Pass my regards to my pals by East Slope. Tell them I’m close to the Throne, doing well. Let me know if any friends to my Snow Hall, And if the little bridge were buried in snow. How I wish to return, back to East Slope, To plough my spring field as river rain grows.  photo from zhuanlan.zhihu.com是但庵文“江上一犁春雨” For Appreciaiton: This poem, composed with colloquial language, reads just like the tone of a short message to the Head of Prefecture. It reveals interesting vibes under the lines, where you can easily sense the bright and breezy spirit of Su Shi after he finally got pardoned by the Emperor and reclaimed his voice at the Court, working in Hanlin Academy (翰林院) which was the centre of administration comprised of Song’s most prestigious men in the gentlemen’s society.  There is a change of sentiment in the last two lines, showing his longing to be away from the busy centre for a farming life in the country, which was a persistent longing throughout his official career.  It makes you suspicious that his experience at the Royal Court was not without challenges. Or, it could simply be a friendly message meant to warm the hearts of his friends at Huangzhou. 如梦令·有寄 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) 为向东坡传语：人在玉堂深处。 别后有谁来？雪压小桥无路。 归去，归去！江上一犁春雨。 Reference: baike.baidu.com

A Farewell Toast to the Spring Season (a poem with borrowed verses) --to the tune of Nanxiangzi Chinese original: Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Zizhan', art name 'Dongpo') English translation & annotation: Julia Min (Feb. 2025) A farewell toast to the spring season, An ancient grief on fallen crimsons.  In a poor sap invisible on the margin, A heart drains away, not to mention the sorrows coupled at a Chu town by a tune chasing on the flute and Qin!   On the Homeview stage, all music ends. The vibe lingers, stirring homesick longing. For an outcast forgotten, not yet pardoned, The view is more evident in the distance; Every inch of his burning expectation Has now turned into cold ash of incense.. from Bilibili (哔哩哔哩） For appreciation: This poem reveals Dongpo's despairing moments as an outcast in Huangzhou. The longer he stayed here, the less hope he felt of being called back to the Court. The first stanza concerns his career, while the second stanza concerns his family's return to his hometown.   A unique way of intellectual entertainment at social gatherings in the Song Dynasty where a gentleman composed a poem with each line borrowed from a famous verse in history. It requires a good memory of many poems before you can spontaneously retailer them into a new poem serving a new theme. It is a very sophisticated effort that can be more difficult than creating a new piece in your own words.  Every line in this poem was borrowed except two linking words in the 1st stanza and two in the 2nd. The reader is tricked over familiar lines, but the rich association feels cleverly intertwined for a good laugh. The original lines came from eight poems by famous Tang Dynasty poets: Du Mu, Du Fu, Xu Hui, and Li Shangyin. 南乡子. 集句 原作: 苏轼（字子瞻, 号东坡居士; 11世纪北宋） 怅望送春怀，渐老逢春能几回？花落楚城愁远别，伤怀 ；何况清丝急管吹！ 吟断望乡台，万里归心独上来。景物登临闲时见，徘徊；一寸相思一寸灰！ reference: 1.baike.baidu.com

My Sick Recovery to Early Spring --to the tune of “A Patch of Flowers” written by Su Shi (11th AC, social name 'Dongpo') En. trans. by Julia Min (Mar.2025) This spring comes early to a world of snow, Hard to see but her east wind starts to blow. She gives subtle signs with pussy willows, And gentle grace even on drums and bells. Only one quilt can keep me warm in bed, Tho’ the night feels like winter long n cold.   When the town’s still dreaming in misty air, A new sun rises, biting the tip of the hill. Peach and apricot boughs will sprout out there. The juice for spring outings will boil bubbles.  There’ll be nothing for me, sick and weak. I’ll keep the bed from running away at home.       photo by Cathy Hampton For Appreciation: This poem offers a unique perspective to appreciate the coming of a new spring from a 40-year-old man recovering in his sickbed. A cheerful vibe dances in the air as a new sun rises, bringing new hope for himself after enduring a long illness, and for the townspeople who embrace the traditional spirit of spring outings to the countryside after a long and cold winter. It was the year 1076 when he served as the governor of Mizhou ( in today’s Zhucheng City, Shandong Province). The ending lines show a restrained self-pity revealed with a sense of humor. The readership can’t help but feeling sorry for a man with such romantic sentiments who had to see himself confined to his sickbed, totally out of the picture in the spring landscape. Well, at least he found solace in composing this ci-poem.   一丛花·初春病起 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) 今年春浅腊侵年， 冰雪破春妍。 东风有信无人见， 露微意、柳际花边。 寒夜纵长，孤衾易暖， 钟鼓渐清圆。   朝来初日半衔山， 楼阁淡疏烟。 游人便作寻芳计， 小桃杏、应已争先。 衰病少悰，疏慵自放， 惟爱日高眠 Reference: baike.baidu.com