63. An Old Marching Song | Li Qi

「胡雁哀鸣夜夜飞，胡儿眼泪双双落」，两句都用「胡」领起。前面刚写完「野云万里无城郭」的空，接着出现的是胡地的雁和胡人的孩子，都在哭。李颀没有替哪一方说话，只是把双方都在受苦这件事并排放在一起。这首诗里唯一的「敌」是对面的骑兵，可到这两句，连敌方的孩子都在流泪。边塞诗常写我方之苦，李颀多走了一步：把苦写成双方共有的东西。这样结尾的「战骨埋荒外」就不只是感慨我方伤亡，而是对整个征战本身的疑问。

The wild geese cry mournfully, flying every night; the nomad children's tears fall in pairs — both lines open on nomad. Just before, the poem has emptied the world with wild clouds for ten thousand li and no walled town; what appears next is nomad geese and nomad children, and both are weeping. Li Qi does not speak for either side; he simply lays the shared suffering side by side. The only enemy in the poem is the cavalry opposite, yet by these two lines even the enemy's children are in tears. Frontier poetry usually writes our side's hardship; Li Qi goes one step further and makes the hardship something both sides own. That is why the closing bones of the dead buried beyond the waste is more than a lament for our losses — it becomes a question put to the whole enterprise.

《汉书·西域传》记，汉使从大宛取回葡萄种，种在离宫旁边。李颀把这件事放在「年年战骨埋荒外」之后，中间只用「空」字连接。一边是年年埋骨的代价，一边是几样作物。他不说值不值，把两样东西并排放着，读者自己会算。这种结尾比直接骂战争更硬，因为它不表态，只把账摆出来。全诗六句，前三句写景，后三句一句一转，最后落在葡萄上，轻的东西承住了前面所有的重。

The Han History records that envoys brought grape vines back from Dayuan and planted them beside a detached palace. Li Qi sets that fact after year after year the bones of the dead are buried beyond the waste, joined by a single word, all. On one side, the cost of bones year after year; on the other, a few crops. He does not say whether it was worth it. He lays the two things side by side and lets the reader do the arithmetic. The close is harder than open anger at war because it passes no verdict — it only shows the account. Six lines in all: three of scenery, three turning one after another, ending on grapes, a light thing holding up all the weight before it.

这首《古从军行》只有六句，却换了六个场景：白日的山、黄昏的河、夜里的刁斗与琵琶、万里无城的云与雪、流泪的雁与人、最后是玉门关和葡萄。李颀不写一件事的连续过程，而是每句换一个新镜头，彼此之间不做过门。读起来像是在军营里走了一圈，各处听见看见的东西依次报出来，到最后一句才把整圈的意思收拢。这种写法在唐诗里不多，接近后来词与散曲的蒙太奇；用在这里，恰好显出边地的散和乱。

This Old Marching Song runs only six lines but changes scene six times: a hill by day, a river at dusk, watch-drums and a pipa by night, clouds and snow with no town for ten thousand li, weeping geese and weeping children, and finally the Jade Gate and grapes. Li Qi does not follow one event through; each line changes the shot, with no transition between them. It reads like walking a circuit through camp and having what is seen and heard reported in order, and only the last line gathers the meaning of the whole circuit. The method is rare in Tang poetry and close to the montage of later ci and sanqu; here it happens to show exactly how scattered and disordered the frontier is.