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My surname is Zheng and that of my late husband is Cui,former Prime Minister who died unfortunately in the capital.We have only this nine-teen-year-old daughter,Yingying,able to sew and embroider,to compose verse,to write a good hand and to make calculations.She was betrothed,when my husband was alive,to my nephew Zheng Heng,eldest son of Minister Zheng;but as the period of mourning has not expired,their marriage has not yet taken place.This little maid,Rose,has been in the service of my daughter since her childhood.This lad,Merry Boy,was adopted by my husband so that he might have a descendant.After my husband’s death,I and my daughter wanted to convey his coffin to the burial ground at Boling,but,obstructed on the way,we were unable to proceed,so we deposited his coffin temporarily at the Salvation Monastery in the Mid-River Prefecture.This monastery was erected by the imperial favor of Her Majesty the Empress Wu Zetian(A.D.690-712).The abbot,Faben,was originally presented for ordination by my husband,so the western bower is reserved for our use.I have written to Zheng Heng at the capital,requesting him to come to help us in the conveyance of the coffin.How sad I feel in company only of three or four close relatives when I think of the hundreds of attendants and the sumptuous food spread before us while my husband was alive!
My husband ended at the capital his life,
Leaving helpless his orphaned child and widowed wife.
Now in the temple stays his coffin on its way.
When can we reach the burial ground so far away?
Alas!Azeleas turn red
With tears of blood we shed.
Now in the time of late spring,one feels rather weary.
Look,Rose,if there is no one in the front courtyard,you may go with your young Mistress to divert yourselves there for a while.
Yes,Madame.
Here we are,east of District Pu,when spring is late,
Shut up in lonely temple with barred door and gate.
The flowing stream is red with fallen blooms.
Laden with glooms,
Mutely I bear a grudge against the eastern breeze,
Blowing down flowers from the trees.(Exeunt.)
I am Zhang Gong,styled Junrui,born in the family of the late president of the Board of Rites west of Luoyang.Having not yet obtained my official rank,I am traveling here and there early in the second moon of the year 801,and I want to go to the capital to attend the highest civil service examinations.On the way I pass the Mid-River Prefecture,where I have an old friend,Du Que,styled Junshi,my fellow countryman,fellow student and sworn brother,who gave up the pen for the sword,came out first on the list in the military examinations and was appointed general of the Western Front,commanding a hundred thousand men and stationed at the Pass of Pu.I want to pay him a visit before I proceed to the capital.Having studied hard in summer as in winter,I have acquired a deep knowledge of literature,but I am still a wanderer here and there and do not yet know when I can realize my noble aspiration.Mine is really the following case:
“My precious sword lies hidden in the autumn stream;
My sorrow-laden saddle’s bursting at the seam.”
In Central Plain I travel up and down,
Rootless like floating thistledown.
I look toward the sky:
The sun seems nearer than the capital to the eye.
Tune: DRAGON IN TROUBLED WATER
Into the ancient classics I have bored my way
Just as a bookworm delves in volumes all the day.
My seat is warm:so long I’ve read alone;
Writing so much,I’ve worn out my ink-stone.
Before I rise like roc to the celestial spheres,
I must first study day and night for o’er ten years.
The higher talent can’t in vulgar places fill;
A noble man in troubled times can’t do his will.
What can I be but a poetaster mere,
To whom are ancient literary fragments dear!
Walking along,I have arrived at the bank of the Yellow River.
Look,what a magnificent sight!
Of the tortuous,turbulent Yellow River,where
Is the perilous part?
Surely it’s there.
The River girds two Eastern States
And keeps two Western States apart
And bars the Northern Gates.
White-crested waves upsurge as high
As autumn clouds that roll in the boundless sky.
The floating bridge,boats joined by ropes of bamboo,
Looks like a crouching dragon blue.
From east to west its waves through nine States go;
From south to north a hundred streams into it flow.
How swift are home-bound ships?Behold and lo!
Just like an arrow shot from a bow.
Tune: UNIVERSAL JOY
The River like the Milky Way falls from the sky;
Beyond the cloud its source hangs high.
It runs its course unchanged till the Eastern Sea.
It makes a thousand Luoyang flowers dance in glee,
And fertilizes ten thousand acres in Eastern land.
Skyward I’d sail till sun and moon are near at hand.
Here I am in the city,and this is an inn.Lute-bearer,Hold my horse.Where is the inn-keeper?
I am an inn-keeper in the High Street.Do you want to put up here,sir?We have clean rooms.
I will put up in your best room.Inn-keeper,come here.Tell me if there is any place for sight-seeing.
We have the Salvation Monastery erected by the imperial order of Her Majesty the Empress Wu Zetian.It is an extraordinary building passengers from north or south never fail to visit.This is the only sight worth seeing in the city.
Lute-bearer,see to my luggage and unsaddle my horse.I am going to visit the monastery.
Yes,sir.(Exeunt.)
I am Facong,monk of the Salvation Monastery and disciple of Abbot Faben.My master has gone to conduct a religious ceremony and told me to stay and take note of visitors so that I may inform him on his return.Now I am standing at the gate to see if anyone is coming.
“The winding path leads to secluded rooms
Shaded by thick foliage and heavy blooms.”
Now I have arrived.
(They meet.)
Where do you come from,sir?
I have come from the west of Luoyang.Having heard of your renowned monastery,I am coming to worship Buddha and pay my respects to the abbot.
The abbot is out.I am his disciple Facong.May I invite you to have tea in the hall?
Since the abbot is out,don’t bother to give me tea.Will you please show me around the monastery?
With pleasure,sir.
It is really a fine building!
I’ve visited the Buddha hall
And quarters of the monks withal.
I’ve passed the kitchen to the west
And to the north the hall of Seriptures blest,
In front of the tower of bells.
I’ve visited the monks’cells,
Climbed the pagoda,
Gone through all the passages.
I’ve counted the Archats,worshiped the Buddha,
And made my bow to saints and sages.
There is another fine building.What place is that?
May I have the pleasure to visit it?
Please do not go there,sir.It is the residence of the family of His Excellency the late Prime Minister Cui.
(Master Zhang sees Yingying,who enters with Rose.)
Who is there if not the beauty who has sown love seed in my heart for five hundred long years!
Thousands of beauties I have seen before,
But not such charming face as this one I adore.
I’m dumbfound,dazzled are my eyes,
My soul has soared up to the skies.
Regardless of my admiration,still she stands,
Rubs shoulders with and fondles flowers with her hands.
Tune: CHARMING ON HORSE
Is this a paradise or a sorrowless sphere?
Who would have thought I’d meet an angel here!
Pleased or displeased,she’s always a vernal vision fair.
Her profile most becomes the ornaments on her hair.
Tune: BETTER THAN GOURD
Her eyebrows arch like crescent moon
And slant upward into her cloudy forehead.
Before she says a word,she blushes soon.
Her lips are cherry-red,
Her teeth as white as jade.
She’s speaking hesitantly to her maid,
Rose,I am going to see Mother.
Like an oriole warbling amid the flowers.Every pace
She takes awakens love.
When she is seen to move,
Her supple waist is full of grace
Like that of a dancer or drooping willow trees
Waving in evening breeze.
What a captivating sight!
What an intoxicating delight!
(Exeunt Yingying and Rose.)
On a petal-softened pathway,see the trace
In fragrant dust of her light and easy pace.
The Love her glance inspires apart,
Her gait transmits the sentiments of her heart.
Slowly advancing,she arrives at her threshhold;
Within one pace
She turns her face,
And on myself I’ve lost my hold.
The angel has returned to her paradise,
In vain the willows weep and the bird cries.
Tune: WILLOW LEAVES
Shut is the gate within which bloom pear trees;
The white-washed wall seems as high
As azure sky.
Why will not Heaven help men to do what they please!
How can I while the time away?
How can I linger here and stay?
I am at a loss what to do this lifelong day.
Tune: PARASITIC GRASS
The musk’s and lily’s fragrance she spread is still here;
Her tinkling ornaments I can no longer hear.
The willow branches wave in eastern breeze;
Gossamer threads retain the petals of peach trees.
Behind the beaded screen her lotus face disappears.
Is this the residence of former Premier Cui
Or Temple of Goddess of the Southern Sea?
Tune: PSEUDO-EPILOGUE
My eyes gaze with pain;
My mouth waters in vain.
Lovesickness penetrates the marrow of my bone.
How can I bear her bewitching glance when she’s to part!
Even if I were made of iron or stone,
I could not forget her in my heart.
Flowers and willows still vie
In beauty on the lovely ground;
At noon the sun is high
And the pagoda throws a shadow round.
With beauties of the spring in view,
It grieves me not to see her face of rosy hue.
When I saw her in the monastery stand,
The temple was converted into a fairyland.