ChineseStudy

294. The Jinling Picture | Wei Zhuang

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English translation

River rain falls thick, the river grass stands even; the Six Dynasties were like a dream, and the birds cry in vain.

Falling thick describes rain fine and close; the river grass stands even means the spring grass grows tall and covers the bank. The Six Dynasties are the six that had their capitals at Jiankang, that is Jinling. Like a dream tells how swiftly they rose and fell, leaving only traces; in vain in the birds cry in vain means the birds still call, but there is no human affair left to answer. The opening couplet already presses the sense of rise and fall into the scene. (This poem is also titled Taicheng; the dataset's poem of the same title Jinling Picture is a different piece, and I take this one from the standard text.)

Most heartless of all is the Taicheng willow; still it wraps the ten-li embankment in mist.

Taicheng is where the palace city of the Six Dynasties stood, now within Nanjing. Heartless is the poet blaming the willow: dynasty after dynasty has changed, yet the willow turns green each year as before. Still is set against like a dream in the line before—the human world is wholly other, the plants are as of old. Still it wraps the ten-li embankment in mist shows the long willow bank in a blur of mist, making the desolation beautiful and its heartlessness the clearer.

赏析 · Commentary

用草木的无情写人的有情 · Heartless Plants, a Feeling Heart

六朝兴亡本是沉重的事，诗里却不见凭吊的哭诉。诗人只说江雨、江草、鸟啼，再怪柳树无情。柳树本无所谓有情无情，诗人偏偏怨它“依旧”青青——怨得越无理，越见他对金陵旧事的不能忘怀。这正是韦庄怀古诗的写法。

The rise and fall of the Six Dynasties is heavy matter, yet the poem holds no grieving lament. The poet speaks only of river rain, river grass, birds crying, and then blames the willow for being heartless. A willow has no heart either way, yet the poet resents its still being green—the more unreasonable the complaint, the more it shows he cannot forget old Jinling. This is how Wei Zhuang writes poems on the past.

“空”与“依旧” · "In Vain" and "Still"

“鸟空啼”的“空”，是啼也无用，无人来听；“依旧烟笼”的“依旧”，是柳不管人间换了多少朝代，照旧笼着长堤。一个“空”写尽人事的消散，一个“依旧”写尽自然的冷漠，两句一对照，六朝如梦的怅惘便落了地。

The in vain of the birds cry in vain means the crying is useless, with no one to hear; the still of still it wraps in mist means the willow, no matter how many dynasties pass, goes on wrapping the embankment. One word, in vain, exhausts the dissolving of human affairs; the other, still, exhausts nature's indifference. Set the two together, and the wistfulness of the Six Dynasties as a dream comes to rest.

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