40. Song of Returning to Mount Lumen at Night | Meng Haoran

Contents

Text

English translation

Original Chinese text

English translation

The hill temple's bell sounds and the day has already gone dim; at the Yuliang ferry the crowd jostles and shouts to cross.

One still, one noisy. The bell spreads out; the shouting at the ferry crowds together. The poem opens on those two sounds.

Original Chinese text

English translation

The others follow the sand road toward the river village; I too take a boat, back toward Mount Lumen.

The others and I are set apart. The crowd goes to the village, he goes to the mountain — same riverbank, opposite directions.

Original Chinese text

English translation

Moonlight at Lumen opens the misted trees, and suddenly I am where Master Pang once lived in hiding.

Master Pang is Pang Degong, the recluse of the Han. The moonlight parts the trees, the road shows itself, and he is standing on a hermit's old ground.

Original Chinese text

English translation

The rock gate and the pine path stay empty a long while; only the hidden man comes and goes at night.

The hidden man can be Pang or the poet himself. The close leaves him where no one is, and the ferry's noise is already far behind.

赏析 · Commentary

一静一喧的开头 · Opening on Two Sounds, One Still, One Loud

第一句是钟:山寺的钟一响,白天就算完了,这是散开的、慢慢延伸的声音。第二句是渡口:人们争着上船,喊成一片,这是挤在一处的、往上顶的声音。孟浩然把这两样并排放在开头,一静一喧,一散一挤。整首诗的走向也在这里定了:从喧处往静处走,从人群里退出来。

The first line is a bell: the hill temple's bell sounds and the day is over, a sound that spreads and lengthens. The second is the ferry: people jostling to board and shouting into one noise, a sound crowded together and pushing up. Meng Haoran sets the two side by side at the start, one still and one loud, one spreading and one packed. The direction of the whole poem is settled here too: away from the noise toward the quiet, out of the crowd.

「人」与「余」各走一边 · The Others and I Go Opposite Ways

第二句用一个「亦」字,把自己和众人并排放好,接着就分了岔:他们沿沙路去江村,他乘船回鹿门。同一时刻,同一条江边,两拨人朝相反的方向去。孟浩然不解释为什么,也不劝谁。这个分岔本身就是这首诗要说的事——他选的不是更热闹的那一头。

The second line uses one word, also, to set the poet beside the others, and then the road forks: they take the sand path to the river village, he takes a boat back to Lumen. Same hour, same riverbank, two groups heading opposite ways. Meng Haoran does not explain why or urge anyone to follow. The fork itself is what the poem is about — the louder side is not the one he picks.

「幽人」是庞公还是自己 · Is the Hidden Man Pang, or Himself

末句只留一个「幽人」在夜里来去,不给名字。前面刚提过庞公的旧隐处,读者自然会先想到庞公;可这一句的动作是「来去」,像是眼前有人还在走。孟浩然没有把两种读法分开,他让古人和自己重叠在同一个夜里。收在这样一个说不清的地方,比明说是谁更好。

The last line leaves only a hidden man coming and going at night, unnamed. Pang's old retreat was just named, so a reader will think of Pang first; yet the motion here is coming and going, as if someone were still walking now. Meng Haoran does not separate the two readings — he lets the ancient and himself overlap in the same night. Closing on a spot that cannot be pinned down serves better than saying which man it is.

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