Bookfish knows small

Author: Liu Shahe / Country:
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2003-01-01
Features: Oh, the white silk fan is as clean as frost on grass blades, and you too have been left behind. With deep sympathy, the one who best wrote about palace grievances is Bai Juyi's "The White-Haired Woman of Shangyang Palace." Shangyang Palace was the residence of palace maids forcibly selected during the reign of Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang Dynasty. The poem describes a maid who was selected at the age of sixteen, then "face like a lotus, chest like jade," considered quite attractive, so she harbored hopes. But—before the emperor could even meet her, Yang Fei had already cast a sideways glance from afar. (Narration) Jealousy forced her to be paired with Shangyang Palace, where she spent her life in an empty room. (Narration) Staying in an empty room, the autumn night is long, and the night is long without sleep until dawn. (Illustration) The lingering shadow of a dim lamp against the wall, the sound of soft rain beating against the window. (Illustration) Spring days are slow, the day drags on, sitting alone until the sky grows dark. (Narration) The hundred songs of palace orioles are tiresome to hear, the swallows nesting in pairs no longer provoke jealousy. (Narration) The orioles return, the swallows depart, and she remains quietly, unaware of the passing of spring and autumn, not remembering the years. (Narration) She only gazes into the deep palace at the moon, which has risen and set hundreds of times. (Narration) Describing her feelings of being imprisoned reveals her misery, which is not untrue, but still feels somewhat generic. This passage applies to over a hundred other women imprisoned with the same fate. The (commonality) of their attitudes is present, but the (individuality) is missing, so readers always feel a sense of detachment.
Next, she is sixty years old now, the oldest in Shangyang Palace, granted the title of "Minister of State" by the emperor as a token of praise (how cruel a joke). At this point, she is an elderly woman with white hair, still dressed in "small-headed shoes and narrow clothing" as in her youth, with "fine, long eyebrows painted in indigo," unaware that this style is already outdated. This "fashion of the late Tianbao era" only invites ridicule from outsiders. Poor her, imprisoned for forty-four years, yet unaware of the latest fashion trends outside. Women outside have long since switched to round-headed shoes and loose clothing, and have drawn thick, bold short eyebrows. It is both amusing and sorrowful—her individuality emerges, and Bai Juyi's deep sympathy is thus revealed.
Li Bai and Du Fu's line "Cloud-like robes, flower-like face" holds such charm that the woman depicted becomes utterly beautiful in the readers' minds. Li Bai's technique is truly masterful. Why "unforgettable"? Li Bai's painting is too ethereal, hazy—how can we put it into words? Some paintings are very concrete, like Du Fu's "The Splendid Women of Li." That large group of noblewomen enjoying a spring outing at Qujiang includes Yang Guifei and her sisters. Du Fu not only meticulously depicts their "fine skin and well-proportioned figures" but also details the headwear, clothing, and sashes they wear. Yet this is still not enough, so he adds, "Their bearing is rich in grace, yet distant and sincere." Du Fu uses eight direct lines to describe their beauty, which is exhausting, and this beauty can indeed be described. But these eight "describable" lines are far inferior to Li Bai's single "unforgettable" line. Strange, isn't it? In this regard, perhaps Du Fu's technique is truly inferior to Li Bai's. Du Fu is too straightforward. Li Bai paints in the abstract, while Du Fu paints in the concrete. Li Bai paints his own (associations), while Du Fu paints their (appearances). Li Bai never depicts the woman's clothing, only that he thinks of clouds; he never depicts her face, only that he thinks of flowers. Du Fu, however, meticulously paints their clothing and even their skin and bones. Li Bai glances at the woman from afar and speaks his associations aloud. Du Fu, however, (pushes close to them) to observe closely, noting everything he sees. Li Bai's single line is unforgettable at a glance, but how many can recall Du Fu's eight?
The line "Cloud-like robes, flower-like face" makes us think of the ethereal clouds and the vibrant flowers, of their otherworldly nature, and that she too must possess an otherworldly beauty. That is enough—why be so specific? From this, we should realize that while "poetry contains painting" and "painting contains poetry," poetry and painting share many artistic principles and can learn from each other, their techniques still differ significantly. Take meticulous brushwork, for example. Painting is feasible, but poetry is not. Meticulous painting leaves nothing out, every hair is visible, and though detailed descriptions are abundant, readers can appreciate them slowly, often discovering new things. Meticulous poetry, however, like Du Fu's detailed depiction of the "splendid women," no matter how accurate or concrete, does little to reveal the soul or portray character. Instead, it leaves readers indifferent and unwilling to read closely.
However, Li Bai's single line from "Three Poems for Qingping Tune" was written at imperial command to praise Yang Guifei. It is truly a pity—she doesn't deserve it!
Bai Juyi performs magic tricks In "The Longing Ballad," Bai Juyi also uses imagery in describing the return of Emperor Xuanzong: "The pools and gardens remain as before, the lotuses of Taiye and the willows of Wuyang are still in bloom. The lotuses are like faces, the willows like brows—how can one not shed tears before them?" The lotuses by the pond and the willows on the embankment are red and green as usual in the palace women's eyes; but in the eyes of the emperor, who has lost his power and his lover, they take on a different meaning. In his loneliness, he longs for Yang Yuhuan and feels guilty (he had made her a scapegoat). Gazing intently, his dim eyes blur, and suddenly the red lotuses and green willows transform into smiling and crying faces, then vanish, leaving only the lotuses and willows by the pond. Thus, he sheds tears.
Bai Juyi performs magic tricks in "The Longing Ballad," but Chen Hong, in "The Legend of the Longing Ballad," only writes the blunt "Lotuses bloom in summer, ginkgoes fall in autumn" and replaces "willows" with "ginkgoes." The two lines "Her jade face is lonely, tears stream down her cheeks, like a pear blossom in spring rain" from "The Longing Ballad" cannot be found in "The Legend of the Longing Ballad."
,，，Bai Juyi and Chen Hong each have their strengths, making comparison difficult. But Bai Juyi not only paints but also performs the illusion of the painted scene. This illusion, called "imagery" in modern times, introduced a new technique into the creation of poetry—shouldn't this be astonishing?
Following the four lines of painting previously cited, another brilliant four lines of painting appear: "On days when peach and plum flowers bloom in spring, on days when leaves fall in autumn. The western palace and southern inner quarters are overgrown with autumn grass, red leaves cover the steps, swept not." This painting should be broken down into four scenes: The first scene is peach and plum blossoms in spring; the second scene is leaves falling in autumn—these two scenes show the passage of time. The third scene is a gradual shift from the secluded southern palace to the equally secluded western palace, representing a spatial shift (the deposed emperor was forced to move from the southern palace to the western palace to continue his lonely imprisonment in his later years). The fourth scene is the steps of the western palace, covered in red leaves, uncleaned (ing the state of seclusion). The camera capturing these four consecutive scenes is the eyes of the imprisoned Emperor Xuanzong. He does not appear in the scene, but every brushstroke is imbued with his emotional color, and the voice-over should be his sighs and curses.
His son, Emperor Suzong, tortures him, showing no "filial piety." Out of respect for the emperor and for his own safety, this palace scandal cannot be written about, so Chen Hong writes it vaguely in "The Legend of the Longing Ballad," never mentioning the son forcing the father. Bai Juyi, in "The Longing Ballad," also dares not mention it, but feels it necessary to hint at it with the scene of "red leaves covering the steps, swept not," showing the poet's meticulous care.