ChineseStudy

41. A Song of Mount Lu, Sent to Censor Lu Xuzhou | Li Bai

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English translation

I have always been the madman of Chu, singing the phoenix song and laughing at Confucius.

He opens on the story of Jieyu, the madman of Chu who sang the phoenix song at Confucius. Li Bai picks that identity for himself in the first line.

Green jade staff in hand, at morning I leave the Yellow Crane Tower.

The jade staff is an immortal's gear and the tower an old place of ascent; together they set the man outside the ordinary world at once.

To seek the immortals on the five peaks I do not count the distance; all my life I have loved to wander the famous mountains.

Not counting the distance and loved say it plainly: this is not sightseeing, it is seeking. The poem's motive is set out here.

Mount Lu rises by the Southern Dipper, its ninefold screen spread like cloud brocade, its shadow falling into the bright lake in a dark blue gleam.

The sentence lengthens all at once, three clauses pushed out in a row. The self-introduction is over and the mountain begins; the pace has changed.

The golden gate opens ahead and two peaks stand long; the Milky Way hangs upside down on the Three Stone Bridges.

Golden gate is a place name and a palace image at once; the Milky Way hung upside down turns the falls into something dropped from the sky.

The Incense Burner falls look back at each other across the distance; winding cliffs and layered peaks climb into the grey.

The Incense Burner falls are an old feature of the mountain. Layered peaks stack layer on layer; climbing into the grey means so high the top is out of sight.

Green shadows and red cloud face the morning sun; where birds cannot reach, the sky over Wu stretches on.

One line is colour, the other distance. Where birds cannot reach ties the mountain's height to the far sky over Wu.

Climbing high, I take in the whole spectacle between heaven and earth; the great river goes vast and wide and does not come back.

Does not come back pulls the scene onto time. The water never turns around, and quietly it matches the man's own position.

Yellow cloud over ten thousand li stirs the look of the wind; nine white channels run and carry snowy mountains along.

The nine channels are the nine branches of the Yangtze. Cloud moves, water runs, snowy peaks ride downstream — all large-scale motion.

Gladly I make a song of Mount Lu; the mood starts from the mountain itself.

The line goes short; this is the poem's turn. Scenery before, and here the reason for writing.

Idly I look into the stone mirror and my heart clears; where Xie walked, green moss has swallowed the path.

The stone mirror is a round rock on the mountain, and Xie is Xie Lingyun. The man is gone, the path remains, and moss has covered it.

Taking the returning elixir early, one is free of worldly feeling; with the zither heart folded three times, the Way first takes shape.

The returning elixir is a Taoist drug, and the zither heart in three folds comes from the Yellow Court Scripture. This is the language of practice, not of scenery.

Far off I see an immortal in the coloured cloud, lotus in hand, bound for the jade capital.

The jade capital is the Taoist heaven. Before it was practice, now at last an immortal appears and the view rises from the human into the sky.

We had an appointment above the nine tiers; I would take Lu Ao along and roam the Great Clarity together.

Lu Ao is a man of Yan who sought immortality and failed. The Lu Ao named here is really Censor Lu, the friend addressed — the name has been turned into an immortal's.

赏析 · Commentary

拿楚狂人给自己开门 · Opening With the Madman of Chu

第一句就把自己放进一个旧身份里：楚狂接舆，唱歌讥笑孔子的人。定了这个身份，后面的绿玉杖、黄鹤楼、寻仙访道就都有了顺着走的理由。李白写诗常这样起手——先立一个人，再让所有景物围着这个人排开。

The first line puts him inside an old identity: Jieyu, the madman of Chu who sang and mocked Confucius. Once that identity is fixed, the jade staff, the Yellow Crane Tower, and the whole quest for immortals have a shape to follow. Li Bai often opens this way — set up one person first, then let all the scenery arrange itself around him.

三句一推，一推再推 · Three Clauses at a Push, Then Another

写到庐山，句子突然拉长：秀出南斗、屏风九叠、影落明湖，三句连成一片推出去。后面接着是二峰、银河、瀑布、沓嶂，一路往上堆。李白铺景不给人喘气的地方，一句压着一句，直到登高、大江、黄云、白波，把尺度撑到最大。前面那两句短句，是被这片长句围在中间的一个停顿。

Reaching Mount Lu, the sentence suddenly stretches: rising by the Dipper, the ninefold screen, the shadow in the lake, three clauses pushed out as one. Then two peaks, the Milky Way, the falls, the layered cliffs, piled one on another. Li Bai gives no room to breathe when he lays out a scene; clause presses on clause until climbing high, the great river, yellow cloud, white channels have stretched the scale as far as it goes. The two short lines before stand as a pause enclosed by all that length.

从人间一路升到天上 · Rising From the Human to the Sky

后半段有一条清楚的路线：先在石镜前照见自己的心，再看谢公走过的旧路，接着服还丹、成道、望见仙人、约在九垓相会。一层层往上走，最后停在太清。李白写求仙，写的是这个上升的过程，不是到没到。最后一句把收信的卢侍御也拉进来同行，人间和天上在同一个人名里重合了。

The second half follows one clear route: first the stone mirror showing him his own heart, then Xie's old path, then the elixir taken, the Way achieved, an immortal sighted, an appointment above the nine tiers. Layer by layer it climbs and stops at the Great Clarity. What Li Bai writes of seeking immortality is this ascent, not whether he arrives. The last line pulls in Censor Lu, the man receiving the poem, to come along, and the human and the heavenly overlap inside one name.

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