ChineseStudy

284. A Night Rain Letter to the North | Li Shangyin

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English translation

You ask when I will come home, and I have no date to give; the night rain on the Ba mountains has swollen the autumn pool.

You is the person the poem is sent to—by the old reading, his wife, though some take it as a friend. No date to give shows the homecoming is unsettled and carries an apology. The Ba mountains lie in what is now eastern Sichuan, marking where the poet is stranded; the night rain filling the autumn pool is both a real scene and a sign of a sleepless night, the sorrow rising with the water.

When can we trim the candle together by the west window, and talk over this night of rain on the Ba mountains?

When can we means when shall we be able to. Trimming the candle together by the west window pictures the two of them reunited and talking long into the night; trimming the wick keeps the lamp bright so the talk can last. And talk over this night means to tell it back afterward. The poet turns tonight's lonely rain into something to be retold at a future reunion: the present bitterness is set aside as a tender memory for later.

赏析 · Commentary

同一个“巴山夜雨”，两种心情 · One "Night Rain on the Ba Mountains," Two Moods

全诗只有二十八字，“巴山夜雨”却出现两次。第一次是此刻——人在巴山，雨下个不停，归期无着落；第二次是将来——重逢之后，两人灯下一起回望这个雨夜。同一个词，前一次是苦，后一次是甜。诗人用重复把现在和未来缝在一起，时间便在短短四句里拐了个弯。

The poem is only twenty-eight characters, yet night rain on the Ba mountains appears twice. The first time is now—he is in the Ba mountains, the rain will not stop, and there is no date for going home. The second is the future—after they meet again, the two of them looking back at this rainy night by lamplight. The same words are bitter the first time and sweet the second. By repeating them the poet stitches present and future together, and time bends within four short lines.

把苦留到重逢时说 · Saving the Bitterness for the Reunion

一般写思念，多直说愁苦；李商隐却设想将来如何向对方讲述今晚。他不说“我很想你”，而是问“什么时候能和你一起剪烛花，再谈今夜这场雨”。这份期待把孤独撑开了一道缝：今天的雨声，将来说给她听，就成了共同的回忆。含蓄处正在于此。

Poems of longing usually state the sorrow plainly; Li Shangyin instead imagines how he will tell the other about tonight. He does not say I miss you; he asks when they can trim the candle together and talk over this rain. That expectation opens a crack in his loneliness: the sound of rain tonight, told later, will become a memory they share. Here lies the reserve.

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