Yuan Zhao Mengfu's

Author: Qin Qianli
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2004-04-01
Features: On the first day of the eighth month in the autumn of the Renxu year, Su Zisi and his guests rowed their boat to play beneath the Red Cliff. The breeze came gently, and the water was calm. Raising wine toasts, they recited the poetry of the bright moon and sang the chapter of the graceful. After a while, the moon rose above the eastern mountain and wandered between the constellations of Dou and You. White dew covered the river, and the water's reflection touched the sky. Letting the reed lead where it wished, it soared over the boundless expanse. Vastly, as if riding the wind across the void, yet not knowing where to stop; drifting, as if leaving the world to stand alone, transforming into a immortal and ascending to the heavens. Thus, they drank happily, striking the boat's side and singing. The song went: "Guzhao, lanjiang, striking the bright sky, tracing the flowing light. Far away in thought, longing for the beautiful one, who is far in the heavens." There was a guest who played the dongsiao, accompanying the song with its mournful sound: like resentment, like longing, like weeping, like pleading; its lingering afternotes were endless as a thread; dancing the hidden dragon in the ravine, weeping the widow of the lone boat. Su Zisi's expression changed, he sat up straight and asked the guest, "Why does it sound like this?" The guest replied, "The moon is bright and the stars are few, crows and magpies fly south. Is this not the poetry of Cao Mengde? Westward, Xiaokou; eastward, Wuchang. The mountains and rivers are intertwined, dark and lush; is this not how Cao Mengde was trapped by Zhou Lang? When he broke Jingzhou, captured Jiangling, and flowed eastward along the river, his warships stretched for a thousand miles, banners covering the sky. Drinking wine by the river, holding a spear and composing poetry; he was indeed a hero of his generation, yet where is he now?