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Han (singing to the tune of Foreign Divination ):
Under the Dynasty of Tang
My ancestor Han Yu was banished to Chaoyang.
Now on Southern Gazebo I hear the sea roar.
Could I as the roc soar?
“The Gazebo overlooks the hay;
Waves from the Sea Gate roll away.
Where are songs and dances of long ago?
I see but partridges flying to and fro.”
I am Han Zicai, descendant of the great Tang scholar Han Yu, who was banished to the seaside for his proposal against Buddhist superstitition. On his way he was stopped by snow at the Blue Pass, and he thought it was a bad omen. Just then his nephew Han Xiangzi, who became one of the eight immortals, came in rags. At this sight he became all the more unhappy and wrote a poem which ends by two lines for his nephew:
You have come from afar and I know what you mean:
Not to leave my bones there where flow miasmal waves green.
Xiangzi put this poem into his sleeve with a long laughter and disappeared in the blue sky. Then Han Yu died of miasma at Chaozhou without a relative by his bedside. When Xiangzi riding a cloud passed overhead, he recalled this poem, descended to collect his remains and carried them to his hometown, where he happened to meet with his former wife, who aroused his human desire and a son was born to carry on the family line, of which I am a direct descendant. As a result of the turmoil at the time, I moved to the southern town of Guangzhou. Out of respect for my great ancestor, the government conferred on me the title of heir scholar at the Temple of Han Yu. Now I dwell near the Southern Gazebo.
Though beggarly I may appear,
My ancestor was noble peer.
Ah! A friend of mine is coming up. Who can it be?
(Enter Liu Dreamer of Mume Flower.)
Liu (Singing to the previous tune):
Versed in classics I seem,
Tired after a day dream.
To view the clouds I mount the height,
And find the sea like mirror bright.
(They greet each other.)
Han: It is you, my dear Lover of Spring. What wind has brought you to me?
Liu: My roaming propensity leads me here.
Han: At this gazebo you can gaze at the beau.
Liu: If not in spirits high, how can I climb so high?
Han: Then am I ever in high spirits?
Liu: No so high as……
Han: As who?
Liu: As Zhao Tuo gazer of the beau.
(Singing to the tune ofCold Window Locked):
The Emperor of Dragon died,
Deer chasers ran on Central Plain so wide.
But Zhao Tuo who relied
On the ramparts he occupied,
Declared himself sole hero in command
Of the precipitous land,
And built palaces side by side.
But do we scholars have a patch of land
For our free hand?
We've read our fill.
But we possess nor hill nor rill.
Together: Could we rely
On earth or sky?
It is in vain
Of the past or the present to complain.
What can we see
But old gazebo and withered tree?
Han: Judging by what you say, you seem depressed. Do not forget what my ancestor said:
“Do not say others are not right
If you cannot write.
It is not that others are unjust,
But that you've not done what you must."
Perhaps we still have something to learn.
Liu: Do not mention it. You remember my ancestor Liu Zongyuan and yours Han Yu were both learned scholars. Even they could not escape from misfortune. Your ancestor was banished to Chaozhou for his proposal against Buddhist superstition, while mine to Liuzhou for his chess-playing with the prime minister displeased the emperor. It was said that on their way to the miasmal regions, they met in a tavern and had a lampside talk. Your great grandfather said that both yours and mine were comparable in their works as well as in their misfortune. Yours wrote The Story of a Bricklayer while mine that of A Carpenter, yours the history of a minister while mine that of a gardener; yours An Elegy to the Crocodile and mine Memoir of a Snake-Catcher. What is more, when your ancestor tried to curry the imperial favor by glorifying the victory on the region south of River Huai, mine dedicated a hymn to the triumph. They shared weal and woe alike, vied from one work to another, and at last were both banished to the miasmal regions at the same time. Was it not predestined? Let us forget the past fortune and misfortune, and talk about the present. My ancestor has left A Prayer for Talent but no talent whatever appears in the twenty-eight generations his descendents; nor Farewell to Poverty left by yours has rid over twenty generations of your family of poverty. So how can we not be resigned to our destiny?
Han: You are right, dear Lover of Spring.
(Singing to the previous tune):
You have bought books with so much gold.
Don't you know they're worthless when sold?
Nevertheless, when a learned scholar Lu Jia of Han Dynasty came here on imperial errand to confer on Zhao Tuo the title of prince, how richly he was recompensed!
When he returned to the capital, His carts were loaded with gold, one and all. At first, the first emperor of Han Dynasty disliked scholars and would piss on the hood of a scholar coming for an audience. When Lu Jia came in a square hood and a dark gown, the emperor thought to himself. Here comes another pisspot. So he said in a haughty air: “I have conquered the world on horseback. What is the use of your books and verses for me? But Lu Jia was witty enough to retort: “Your Majesty may conquer the world on horseback, but can you rule over it still on horseback?” On hearing this question, the emperor was at a loss, so he said with a broad smile: “Do you think then your books could rule over it? Read me a passage you think fit to the purpose.” Then Lu Jia took out without haste a scroll from his sleeve and read aloud the first chapter of his New Proposals composed by windowside or in lamplight. The emperor, delighted, broke into broad smiles again and asked him to read one chapter after another, and applauded all the thirteen chapters and ennobled him with the title of Interior Marquis. This glorification won the acclamation and applause of all ministers and generals, who shouted: “Long live the emperor!”
Liu (Sighing): But no one would applaud my works.
Together:
Could we rely
On earth or sky?
It is in vain
Of the past or the present to complain.
What can we see
But old gazebo and withered tree.
Han: Then may I ask you, dear Lover of Spring, how are you earning a living now?
Liu: I am boarding with my gardener.
Han: In my opinion, you had better find a patron to help you.
Liu: Who would be interested in a man of letters now?
Han: Don't you know an imperial envoy for treasure appraisal appraise men of letters as well as treasure? Before his term of office ends in autumn, he will come as usual to assess treasure in the Temple of Fragrant Bay. Why don't we go there and pay him a visit?
Liu: All right. Let us have a try.
How can a lonely scholar be free from woe?
How could he up to Heaven go?
A prince would be proud of what he has done.
The successful is not the learned one.