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62. The Song of Yan, with Preface | Gao Shi

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English translation

In the twenty-sixth year of Kaiyuan a guest who had followed Lord Zhang, the Censor-in-Chief, out to the frontier and come back showed me a Song of Yan he had written. Moved by what garrison duty on the border does, I wrote this reply.

The preface does nothing but give the occasion: someone wrote a poem first, and I answered it. Moved by what garrison duty does — those few words are the doorway into everything that follows.

The smoke of war rises in the northeast for the House of Han; a Han general leaves his household to break the remnant rebels.

The poem begins with the House of Han, dressing a Tang affair in another dynasty's name — the usual practice when writing about the frontier, neither evasive nor blunt.

A man by nature prizes riding where he will; and the Son of Heaven grants him uncommon favor.

To ride where he will means to sweep the field, not to run wild. To be granted favor means the emperor has looked on him in person and approved.

Gongs are struck and drums beaten as they march out through the Yu Pass; banners trail in a long file among the Jieshi hills.

Both lines work by scale — sound first, in the gongs and drums, then shape, in the banners, one behind the other.

A colonel's urgent dispatch flies across the Gobi; the Khan's hunting fires light up Wolf Mountain.

A dispatch carries a feather to mark its urgency; the hunting fires are called a hunt, but what they light is war.

Hills and rivers lie bleak to the last edge of the frontier; the nomad horse presses in, mingled with wind and rain.

The first line is emptiness; the second is sudden arrival. Bleakness is stillness, pressing in is motion, and nothing joins them.

Before the lines the soldiers are half dead, half living; in the tents the beauties still sing and dance.

This is the plainest couplet in the poem. No comment stands between the two lines; the opposition does the talking. The single word still is enough.

In the deep autumn of the desert the frontier grass withers; at a lone wall in the setting sun, the men fit to fight are few.

Those three words, the men fit to fight are few, put the casualties into a count instead of a river of blood.

Favored by the court, he grew used to underrating the enemy; now his strength runs out among the passes and the siege is still not broken.

This couplet supplies the cause of the scene above. The one who was honored grew careless; the ones shut in are already spent.

In iron armor, garrisoned far from home, they have labored long; back there, since the parting, the tears must be falling like jade chopsticks.

Jade chopsticks describes the way tears run down the face — not actual chopsticks.

In the south of the city the young wife is near heartbreak; north of Ji the soldier can only turn and look back.

One south, one north — both directions given at once. Near means it has not happened yet; can only means the looking does no good.

The frontier is adrift and shaken — how could one cross it? In that far country all is blank fog, and what else is there?

The first line says you cannot get there; the second says even if you did there is nothing. Both carry the tone of a question.

The breath of killing, through three seasons, gathers into battle clouds; a cold sound all night long passes from watch-drum to watch-drum.

The three seasons are spring, summer and autumn, the farming seasons, all of them spent on war — which is why the next line must be all night long.

They look at each other across the white blades, blood falling thick; dying for duty was never for the sake of a record of merit.

Here the poem speaks one line for the soldiers: they are not dying to be written down. Only now is the arrogance described earlier pressed down.

Do you not see how bitter it is to fight on the sand? To this day people still remember General Li.

General Li is Li Guang, who looked after his men. Ending on the memory of an old general sets the frontier commanders of the day beside him for comparison.

赏析 · Commentary

「美人帐下犹歌舞」为什么不加评语 · Why the Beauties Still Sing and Dance Carries No Verdict

「战士军前半死生，美人帐下犹歌舞」是全诗最常被引的一联，写法却极简。高适不写谁对谁错，也不写自己多愤慨，只把两个场面并排放着：前面在打，后面在唱。两句之间隔着一个「犹」字，语气就够了——人家在前边死了一半，后面还在歌舞。「犹」是转折，也是判决。若换成议论句子，反而轻了。全诗前段写声势，中段写败象，都还在铺陈；直到这一联，两种人被并在一起，边塞诗里常见的「苦」才落到具体的两种人身上：卖命的人和不卖命的人。

Before the lines the soldiers are half dead, half living; in the tents the beauties still sing and dance is the most quoted couplet in the poem, and its method is extreme plainness. Gao Shi does not say who is right or wrong, or how angry he is. He sets two scenes side by side: fighting in front, singing in back. Between them stands one word, still, and that word is enough — half the men are dying out there, and the music has not stopped. Still is both the turn and the verdict. Put an argument in its place and the line grows lighter. The first part of the poem builds scale, the middle builds collapse, all of it still preparation; only here are the two kinds of men laid together, and the bitterness that frontier poetry is known for settles onto two specific kinds of people — the ones who sell their lives and the ones who do not.

序只写缘起，把话留在后面 · The Preface Gives Only the Occasion

序只有三十来字，交代缘起：开元二十六年，有人随张守珪出塞归来，写了一首《燕歌行》，高适看了，感慨征戍之事，于是和了一首。序不抒情，也不预设悲壮，连「感」字都是轻的。这样处理的好处是，全诗的判断可以慢慢来：先是「横行」「赐颜色」的意气，再是「摐金伐鼓」的声势，一路推到「斗兵稀」「未解围」，最后才到「岂顾勋」和「李将军」。如果序先定了调，后面这些层次就挤在一起了。《燕歌行》本是乐府旧题，曹丕写过，向来以思妇征夫为内容；高适用它装了一段当代战事，题旧而事新，这也是唐人用乐府的常态。

The preface runs a few dozen characters and gives only the occasion: in the twenty-sixth year of Kaiyuan a man who had followed Zhang Shougui to the frontier came back and wrote a Song of Yan; Gao Shi read it, was moved by what garrison duty does, and wrote an answer. The preface does not lament or set a solemn key; even the word moved is light. The advantage is that the poem's judgment can arrive slowly: first the swagger of riding where he will and being granted favor, then the scale of gongs and drums, on to the men fit to fight are few and the siege still unbroken, and only at the end dying for duty and General Li. Had the preface fixed the tone, these layers would crowd together. The Song of Yan is an old yuefu title, written before by Cao Pi and long used for wives at home and husbands on campaign; Gao Shi puts a present-day war inside it. An old title with new matter — the normal working habit of Tang poets with yuefu.

结尾为什么要提李广 · Why the Poem Ends on Li Guang

结尾忽然提到李广，看着像离题，其实全诗靠他站住。李广一生与匈奴作战，不得封侯，却与士卒同甘苦，史书上说他得赏赐常分给部下，饮食与士兵共享。这样的将军，士兵肯为他死。高适写这首诗的时候，张守珪正因边功受宠，而仗打成「力尽关山未解围」的样子。结尾不说当今的将帅如何，只说至今还想念李将军——怀念谁，就等于说现在没有谁。这一句也替全诗收束：前面写了骄将，写了苦兵，最后要落到一个应该有而如今没有的人身上，诗才完整。

The mention of Li Guang at the close looks like a digression, but the whole poem stands on him. Li Guang fought the Xiongnu all his life and never got a title, yet he shared hardship with his soldiers; the histories say he divided his rewards among his men and ate and drank with them. Men will die for a general like that. When Gao Shi wrote, Zhang Shougui was in favor for frontier exploits, and the campaign had come out as strength run out among the passes, the siege still unbroken. The close does not say what today's commanders are like; it says people still remember General Li. To long for someone is to say that no one now answers. The line also closes the poem: after the arrogant general and the spent soldiers, it must end on a man who ought to exist and does not, and only then is the poem whole.

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