Tang Dynasty Poem: Qingming by Du Mu 清明 (杜牧)

Today, April 5th, is Qingming Festival or Tomb-sweeping Day. Qingming 清明, literally "pure bright," is the day China and several other East and Southeast Asian countries commemorate their dead and celebrate the coming of spring.

My father shared this poem about Qingming with the family yesterday. Curious, I looked it up and liked the imagery it evoked and was awed by the deep meaning of the words. A lot gets lost in the literal translation.

To my father's everlasting chagrin, I suck at Chinese. I had Chinese classes as a kid but that never translated to conversational skills. I am the only one of his four kids who cannot converse or write in Chinese, whether Fookien or Mandarin. To be fair, my siblings all went to a Chinese high school and, after graduating from university, they each went to China and spent 1-2 years to study and improve their language skills. I, on the other hand, went to a science high school. I was offered the same opportunity to study abroad but chose instead to further my university studies. (I technically got myself another degree but it's actually just another year of specialized study on top of my 4 years of undergrad.) Anyway, this is just a long way of saying I cannot Chinese and I am so very thankful for the native speakers and non-native fluent speakers for explaining the nuances of the poem. The internet is a fount of knowledge!

This is actually Take 3. Take 1 was a disastrous freehand drawing attempt. Take 2 had the best illustration but that was ruined by an accidental ink splotch from a freshly inked pen.

The poem is by Tang Dynasty poet and government official Du Mu and depicts a rainy Qingming Day. This blog was very helpful in explaining the nuances of the poem and also has the reference picture I used in my drawing. I tried to freehand draw a cowherd at first but it ended up terrible. Ho hum. 

 

《 清  明 》Qing Ming

杜  牧 Du Mu

清    明     时 节   雨   纷 纷，

qīngmíng  shíjié yǔ  fēnfēn

路    上     行  人    欲    断  魂。

lù  shang  xíngrén yù duànhún

借  问    酒 家  何 处  有，

jiè wèn jiǔjiā  héchù yǒu

牧  童    遥    指  杏   花  村。

mùtong yáo zhǐ xìnghuā cūn

Poetic translation:

The ceaseless drizzles drip all the dismal day,
So broken-hearted fares the traveler on the way.
When asked where could be found a tavern bower,
A cowboy points to yonder village of the apricot flower.

Pen and Ink Used:

TWSBI Eco White (F) with Pilot Black

Poem of the Day: Still I Rise by Maya Angelou

March 21 is World Poetry Day. Here's a poem from Maya Angelou in honor of this day and all the people who keep fighting the good fight.

Pens and Inks:

• LAMY Al-Star EF inked with Diamine Marine.
• TWSBI Eco-T Mint F inked with Diamine Sargasso Sea.

Poem of the Day: Endymion by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I remember borrowing from a friend a book of Longfellow's poetry. I was young, still in undergrad, and highly impressionable. More than a decade later and I'm still not entirely sure why this one poem stuck with me. I've forgotten all the other poems of his that I read in that book except for this one. All I know is that this poem, this stanza (italicized below), is as evocative today as it was years ago.

Endymion

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 

The rising moon has hid the stars;
Her level rays, like golden bars,
       Lie on the landscape green,
       With shadows brown between.

And silver white the river gleams,
As if Diana, in her dreams,
       Had dropt her silver bow
       Upon the meadows low.

On such a tranquil night as this,
She woke Endymion with a kiss,
       When, sleeping in the grove,
       He dreamed not of her love.

Like Dian’s kiss, unasked, unsought,
Love gives itself, but is not bought;
       Her voice, nor sound betrays
       Its deep, impassioned gaze.

It comes,—the beautiful, the free,
The crown of all humanity,—
       In silence and alone
       To seek the elected one.

It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep,
Are Life’s oblivion, the soul’s sleep,
       And kisses the closed eyes
       Of him, who slumbering lies.

O, weary hearts! O, slumbering eyes!
O, drooping souls, whose destinies
       Are fraught with fear and pain,
       Ye shall be loved again!

No one is so accursed by fate,
No one so utterly desolate,
       But some heart, though unknown,
       Responds unto his own.

Responds,—as if with unseen wings,
A breath from heaven had touched its strings
       And whispers, in its song,
      “Where hast thou stayed so long!”

This poem is in the public domain. 

Poem of the Day: Sonnet XVIII: Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day? by William Shakespeare

Hello hello, from the armpits of Satan a.k.a. the Tropics in Summertime! I am ever so glad that I don't need to go out in this heat and that I have air conditioning. Here's one of my favorite poems from dear ol' Bill and a kind of summer that's far lovelier than what we have here.

Sonnet XVIII: Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day?

by William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

A Poem A Day: Good And Evil XXII by Khalil Gibran

A poem on goodness and what it means to be good to yourself and to others. Food for thought. Short ramblings at the end.

Good And Evil XXII

By Khalil Gibran

And one of the elders of the city said, Speak to us of Good and Evil. 

And he answered: 

Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil. 

For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst? 

Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts, it drinks even of dead waters. 

You are good when you are one with yourself. 

Yet when you are not one with yourself you are not evil. 

For a divided house is not a den of thieves; it is only a divided house. 

And a ship without rudder may wander aimlessly among perilous isles yet sink not to the bottom. 

You are good when you strive to give of yourself. 

Yet you are not evil when you seek gain for yourself. 

For when you strive for gain you are but a root that clings to the earth and sucks at her breast. 

Surely the fruit cannot say to the root, Be like me, ripe and full and ever giving of your abundance. 

For to the fruit giving is a need, as receiving is a need to the root. 

You are good when you are fully awake in your speech, 

Yet you are not evil when you sleep while your tongue staggers without purpose. 

And even stumbling speech may strengthen a weak tongue. 

You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps. 

Yet you are not evil when you go thither limping. 

Even those who limp go not backward. 

But you who are strong and swift, see that you do not limp before the lame, deeming it kindness. 

You are good in countless ways, and you are not evil when you are not good, 

You are only loitering and sluggard. 

Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles. 

In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness: and that longing is in all of you. 

But in some of you that longing is a torrent rushing with might to the sea, carrying the secrets of the hillsides and the songs of the forest. 

And in others it is a flat stream that loses itself in angles and bends and lingers before it reaches the shore. 

But let not him who longs much say to him who longs little, Wherefore are you slow and halting? 

For the truly good ask not the naked, Where is your garment? nor the houseless, What has befallen your house? 

---

Personal Ramblings:

My vocation is one of perpetual learning and study, and sometimes I would feel guilty for being lazy, for not being as productive as I could or should be. The verses in this poem that speak of being Good even if you limp or stumble your way to the finish line is a lovely reminder to be kind to myself when I only have the mental or physical fortitude to take one tiny step forward.

What gave me pause and warranted food for thought though were these lines:

Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil. 

For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst? 

First of all, this posits that humans are inherently good, but life on this earthly plane has taught me that humans can be incredibly shitty and maintaining a healthy level of cynicism is a necessary survival skill. And yet I still, deep down, believe that people are inherently good. Blame my hopeless optimism or years of Catholic education.

So what makes good people turn evil? Need for survival? People who start out good but are forced by necessity to a life of crime and sin. Greed? People who are overcome by insatiable wanting. The more they have, the more they want. In both instances, these people recognize their moral dilemma hence the torture. Human conscience is simultaneously a wonderful and terrible thing to have.

A Poem A Day: Vow by Ada Cambridge

I haven't read poetry in years due to living a busy life, school, socials, altered reading preferences. I felt it was high time I got back to it, maybe even get back to writing poetry for fun. Eventually. Baby steps.

So why post about the poems I read? Well, to quote the fabulous Lizzo: "I do it for the culture, goddamn."

I won't really post a poem every single day, just the ones that speak to me. The post title is a reference to one of my favorite feel-good dramas about a poem-loving, onion-skinned physical therapist and her romance with the "poker-faced" rehab doctor. IYKYK.

https://seokangjuny.tumblr.com/post/174267096403/a-poem-a-day/amp

The first poem I'm going to share is, as the title suggests, about vows, specifically romantic vows. I feel the last two verses succinctly puts into words my feelings about relationships that are on its last legs. The couple is fighting together to keep their relationship going, but more often they fight each other. Distrust abounds and they guard their hearts against the other. As Miss Cambridge beautifully articulates: is love still there?

P.S. I guess this is my comeback blog post?

–––

Vow

By Ada Cambridge

Nay, ask me not. I would not dare pretend

To constant passion and a life-long trust. 

They will desert thee, if indeed they must. 

How can we guess what Destiny will send - 

Smiles of fair fortune, or black storms to rend

What even now is shaken by a gust?

The fire will burn, or it will die in dust.

We cannot tell until the final end.

And never vow was forged that could confine 

Aught but the body of the thing whereon 

Its pledge was stamped. The inner soul divine,

That thinks of going, is already gone.

When faith and love need bolts upon the door,

Faith is not faith, and love abides no more.