Ode To Red Cliff 念奴嬌 赤壁懷古

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In that car journey from Dongguan (see last post), my friend narrated his last meeting with his friend who questioned the life he had been living. What has it all being for? For money? Security? Status? The good things in Life? Are they worth the sacrifices? Isn’t it in the end, no matter what one achieved; they are just like 浪淘沙 (làngtáoshā), sands that are washed away by the relentless tides of time.

Or is Life just an illusion as suggested by 苏轼 Sū Shì’s Ode to Red Cliff 念奴娇 - 赤壁怀古 (niàn nú jiāo - Chìbì huáigǔ). Even if one is as kingly as Li Yu 李煜 lǐyù or as heroic as Zhou Yu 周瑜 Zhōu Yú, in the end we will still be swept away by the Great River to the East. Maybe he sensed his end was near. He was not feeling well and intended to visit the hospital for a thorough check-up. He did not do so immediately because he was busy and needed to go for another outstation trip. He never made it back.

Ode to Red Cliff was the second poem he quoted in this reminiscence just before his demise. I did not know this friend of his but I was sad when I heard his story.

念奴娇 - 赤壁怀古 niàn nú jiāo - Chìbì huáigǔ

苏轼 Sū Shì

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。


dàjiāng dōngqù, làngtáojìn, qiāngǔ fēngliú rénwù.
gùlěi xībian, réndào shì, Sānguó Zhōuláng Chìbì.
luànshí bēngyún, jīngtāo liè àn, juǎnqǐ qiān duīxuě,
jiāngshān-rúhuà, yīshí duōshao háojié!

yáoxiǎng gōngjǐn dāngnián, xiǎoqiáo chūjià le, xióngzī yīngfā.
yǔshàn-guānjīn, tánxiào jiān, qiánglǔ huīfēi yānmiè.
gùguó shényóu, duōqíng yīngxiào wǒ, zǎoshēng huáfà.
rénshēng rúmèng, yīzūn huánlèi jiāngyuè.

Nian Nu Jiao (Graceful Nian Nu) - Ode To Red Cliff

The Great River flows east, its waves sweeping away, all distinguished figures.
The fortress in the west of Red Cliff, it is said, stood Zhou Yu of the Three Kingdoms.
Scraggy rocks piercing clouds, sudden waves smashing the shores, into a thousand snow flakes.
The scene is like a painting, for a while, full of heroes!

Recalled Zhou Yu in his prime, Xiao Qiao by his side, in full majestic splendour.
The composed master strategist; talked and laughed, while the enemy's ships went up in flames.
A romantic journey to the past, I laughed at the sentimental me, prematurely turning gray.
Life is like a passing dream, a toast to the moon's reflection.

Waves Washing Sand 浪淘沙

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We were cruising along the highway from Dongguan to Shenzhen, China to attend an Annual Dinner. I have not met this friend of mine for many years and have much to talk about. We first met eighteen years ago when Shekou, 蛇口 Shékǒu (the port servicing Shenzhen 深圳 Shēnzhèn) was still a sleepy fishing village. Then, paddy fields and duck farms flanked the road throughout the one hour journey from Shekou to Shenzhen. Today, it is high rise buildings all the way.

Like old friends, we talked about the past and the individual path we each took. We talked about choices and wondered if we made the correct one. We talked about responsibility and ambition. We talked about the purpose and meaning of Life. Along the way, our conversation led us to 浪淘沙 làngtáoshā for we wondered if our lives are like the waves washing the sand, erasing all our footsteps.

This poem was by Li Yu 李煜 lǐyù, who was the last ruler of the Southern Tang Kingdom 南唐 Nán Táng from 961 to 975 during the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms Period. The kingdom fell to the Song Dynasty 宋朝 Sòng Cháo in 975 and Li Yu and his family were held captives in the Song capital at present-day Kaifeng 开封 Kāifēng. His best poems were written during this period as he lamented the lost of his kingdom and the pleasures it brought him. He was poisoned by the Song emperor after he wrote a poem lamenting his lost.

Once he was a king, now he is a prisoner. Time washes us all, over…

浪淘沙 làngtáoshā

帘外雨潺潺, liánwàiyǔchánchán,
春意阑珊。 chūnyì lánshān.
罗衾不耐五更寒。 luóqīnbùnài wǔgènghán.
梦里不知身是客, mènglǐ bùzhī shēn shìkè,
一晌贪欢。 yīshǎng tān huān.

独自莫凭栏, dúzì mò pínglán,
无限江山, wúxiàn jiāngshān
别时容易见时难。 biéshí róngyì jiàn shínán.
流水落花春去也, liúshuǐ luòhuā chūn qùyě,
天上人间。 tiānshàng-rénjiān.


Outside the curtain, the rain murmurs,
Spring draws to an end.
The quilt cannot resist the fifth watch cold.
I did not realize I was a guest in my dream,
Coveting pleasure.

I should not be alone leaning on these railings,
While spread before me the limitless country,
It is easy to part but difficult to again meet.
Like fallen flowers on flowing water, spring is gone,
So is my paradise.

My friend told me that this was one of the two poems a closed friend of his quoted recently just before his sudden death questioning whether all we strived for were in vain…

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(The other poem is 念奴娇 or Ode to Red Cliff which I'll translate for the next post)