Poetry / China

CHINESE POETICAL WRITING

François Cheng*

SA DUCI薩都刺（°1308- †13??) Aliases: Tian Shi天賜, Zhizhai 直齋. LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

§1.

Signs engraved in tortoise bones and buffalo's scapulae. Signs which sacred vases and bronze utensils carry on their flanks. 1 Divinatory or utilitarian, they manifest themselves as traceries, emblems, immovable manners, visualized rhythms. Regardless of its utterance, constituting a unity by itself, each sign has the potential to remain sovereign, and thus to become everlasting. So, since its origins, it has been a writing that refuses to be a mere support of oral language: its development has been a long struggle aimed at achieving autonomy as well freedom of arrangement. Ever since its origin it has stood up to this contradictory and dialectical relationship between the pronounced sounds and the physical presence, with a tendency towards gestures, between the exigency of linearity and the desire of a spatial evasion. Can it be said that this is 'crazy defiance' from the Chinese to maintain as such this 'contradiction', for about forty centuries?

What cannot be denied is that it was a most extraordinary adventure, thus enabling it to be said that through their writing the Chinese accepted a challenge, a unique challenge, which came to be the great benefice of the poets.

Thanks to this writing, in effect since slightly longer than three-thousand years ago, an uninterrupted melody was passed on to us.2 This melody that, at its inception, was intimately connected with sacred dance and with agrarian field work regulated by seasonal rhythms, came to eventually suffer considerable metamorphoses. One the elements which determined the origin of these metamorphoses was exactly this writing which has developed into an extremely original poetical language. All T'ang poetry is a written melody as well musical writing. Through these signs, complying with a primordial rhythm, a word has exploded and expanded beyond and from everywhere its signifier's act. First of all to define the reality of these signs, the Chinese ideograms, their specific nature, their connections with other significant practices (such are the intentions of this article) it is essential to explain certain facets of Chinese poetry.

It is usual when speaking of Chinese characters to evoke their imagistic representations. Those who are ignorant of this writing easily take it as an aggregate of 'small squiggles'. It is true that in its oldest known configuration, it is possible to pick out an important number of pictograms such as the 'sun' (⊙, then stylized as 日), the 'moon' (, then stylized in 月), and 'man'/'homo' (, then stylized in 人); but also next to them are represented characters more abstract which can already be qualified as ideograms, such as 'king' (王: that which connects the 'sky', the 'earth' and 'mankind'), 'centre' (中: a space crossed by a line at the centre), and 'to return' (, stylized in 反: a hand describing a turning gesture towards oneself). From a limited number of simple characters later arose the complex characters: those are the ones which constitute most of the Chinese ideograms which are currently in use. A complex character is a compound of two simple characters; thus the word 'clarity'明 is formed by the 'sun' and the 'moon'. But the common example of a complex character is that of the type 'radical + phonetic sign', that is, a radical made of a simple character (equally named 'key', because it is the radical which determines the category to which belongs the word; being the compound of all Chinese words subdivided into two hundred and fourteen types, that two hundred and fourteen 'keys': the 'water' 'key', the 'wood' 'key', the 'man' 'key', etc.) and of another section equally made by a simple character which acts as a phonetic sign: this one by its own pronunciation, gives the pronunciation to the word (that is, the simple character acting as a phonetic sign and the complex character which is also its constituent have the same pronunciation). Let us cite, for instance, the word 'companion'·伴 which is a complex character, It is formed by a 'key', the 'man' 'key' 亻, and of another simple character 半 which is pronounced pan· and which indicates that the complex character 'companion' is also pronounced pan. (This obviously gave rise to numerous homonymous cases of which we will later explain the implications). It must be noted that the choice of a simple character which therefore does not have other function than that of being a phonetic sign is not always gratuitous. Of the example we just mentioned, the simple character pan 半 means 'half '· which combined with the 'key' for 'man' evoke the idea of 'another half' or of 'the man who shares' thus contributing to underline the precise meaning of the complex character 伴· which is its 'companion'. This example make us notice an important factor: if the simple characters whose function is to act as 'self-signifiers' work by their gestural and emblematic looks, in this case, even if it is a purely phonal audible element, one still strives to link it to a meaning. To suppress the gratuitous and the arbitrary at all levels of a semiotic system founded on an intimate relationship with reality, in such a way as to prevent all future ruptures between signs and the world and thus between mankind and the universe: this always seems to have been the tendency of the Chinese. This suggestion enables us to proceed further into the reflection on the specific nature of the ideograms.

The ideograms are composed of lines. Very small in number, these lines present themselves in extremely different arrangements; and the ideogram as a whole is like a compound (or a transformation) derived from very simple lines but already significant by themselves. Among the following six ideograms (all, except the last, being simple characters), the first is composed of only one line and the last of eight. 3 

    一        人        大     天    夫     芙
    ONE    MAN/HOMO     BIG    SKY   MAN   LOTUS

The first ideogram is but a horizontal line. This is undoubtedly the most important of all basic lines and can be considered as the 'initial line' of Chinese writing. According to the traditional interpretation its tracery is an act which separates (and concomitantly joins) the sky with the earth. So, the characters mean 'one' and 'original unity' as well. Combining the basic lines and relying, in many other cases, on 'ideas' which are subjacent to them, other ideograms are created. This is how, when combining 'one'· 一 and 'man'/'homo' 人, we obtain 'big'·大, the same way as 'sky'·天 is achieved adding a line over the character 'big'·大. After 'sky' 天 we reach 'man'夫 and the last character 'lotus'· 芙 a complex character, is a compound of 'man' (as a phonetic sign) together with the radical 'grass'·艹. Lines imbricated in other lines, meanings implied from other meanings. In each sign, the codified meaning never completely represses other more profound meanings always about to erupt: and the compound of signs, formed according to the demands and the equilibrium of rhythm reveal a bundle of meaningful lines: attitudes, movements, researched contradictions, harmony of opposites and, finally, a way of being.

Let us remember that tradition prescribed a connection between this type of writing and the divination system called pa-kua· (the Eight Trigrams). This system, which throughout the history of Chinese civilization has not ceased playing an important role both on the philosophical plan (the idea of mutation) as in daily life (the horoscope, geomancy and other divinatory practices), is said to have been invented by Fu-hsi, · the legendary king, and to have been perfected by Wen-wang· of the Chou· (ca 1000BC). It comprehends a body of figurations whose internal relationships are ruled by transformation laws according to the alternance principles of the ying· and yang· . Each basic figure is composed of three superimposed lines, the uninterrupted lines representing the yang and the broken lines representing the ying. Thus the idea of the 'sky' is represented by three uninterrupted lines and that of the 'earth' by three broken lines , 'water' being symbolized by the configuration , and the 'fire' by the figure , etc. In so far as these ideograms are also composed of lines where numbers up to three are represented by a corresponding number of lines ('one' 一, 'two'·二 and 'three'·三) and where the character shui 水 ('water')·, where written in archaic times as , certain researchers suggest attempting to decode a system of affiliation between both systems. Underlying this connection it is interesting above all to note that the finality of the ideographic signs is not to reproduce the external aspect of things but to figuratively express by its fundamental characteristics through arrangements that uncover their essence as well as the secret bonds which connect them. Through their balanced structure, as such necessary, to characterize each one of them (all being of identical dimensions, containing an inherent 'architecture', immutable and harmonious) the ideograms present themselves not as signs arbitrarily imposed but as being gifted of volition and an internal unity. In China, this perception of signs as living entities is furthermore reinforced by the fact that each ideogram is monosyllabic and invariable, which confers on it an autonomy as well as a great mobility according to its possibility of combination with other ideograms. In the poetical Chinese tradition one frequently compares the twenty characters which constitute a pentasyllabic four verse composition to twenty 'wise men'. Each of their personalities and the way they interrelate transform the poem into a ritual act (or a scene) where gestures and symbols provoke meanings repeatedly renewed.

Such a writing system, and the conception of the sign in itself which is at its base, conditioned in China a whole gamut of major practices such as- besides poetry - calligraphy, painting and mythicism.

QU YUAN 屈原 (°ca343-†277BC). Alias: Ling Jun 靈均 Chu· poet of the Warring States· era (475-221BC). ** LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

The influence of a language conceived not as a denotative system which 'describes' the world, but as an organizing representation where the connections provoke significant acts, 4 is here decisive. Not only because basically writing is the vehicle to all these practices but also because much more the model acting on the process of their constitution in system. Inspired by the ideographic writing and determined by it, poetry, calligraphy, painting and mythicism constitute a semiotic network both complex and uniform: they obey the same procedure of symbolization and certain rules of fundamental opposition. It is not possible to detach language from one of these categories without making reference to the links which bind them to the others, and through them, to a general aesthetic way of thinking. In China the arts are not compartimentalized: an artist should excel in the triple practice of poetry-calligraphy-painting as a wholesome art where all the spiritual dimension of one's self are explored: linear singing and spatial system, incantatory gestures and visualized words. So we propose to define, in the following pages, the relationship maintained between writing and calligraphy, painting and mythicism and, at the same time, each time it takes place, which assisted the poets in their attempts to forge a language adequate to their purposes.

It is not by chance that in China calligraphy which exalt the visual beauty of the ideograms has become a fine art. Through the practice of that art, all Chinese find again the most profound rhythm of their selves and thus a communion with the elements. Through these lines full of meaning they find total release. Their binding and their releasing connections, their relationships either contrasting or in equilibrium allow each individual to express the multiple aspects of their sensibility: strength and tenderness, élan and timidity, tension and harmony. Realizing the unity intrinsic in each character and the overall equilibrium between all characters, the calligrapher, through expressing his matter achieves his own integrity. Immemorial gestures are nonetheless constantly reenacted whose cadence, as a dance of swords, realizes instantly the flow of the lines; lines which bind themselves, which intersect each-other, which drift and dive, acquire meaning and add further meanings to the codified meaning of the words. In effect, speaking about calligraphy one can speak about meaning, because its own gestural and rhythmic nature does not allow us to forget that it works from the signs. During an execution the meaning of a text is never altogether absent from the mind of the calligrapher. So, the choice of a text is never gratuitous nor indifferent.

The favourite texts of the calligraphers are undoubtedly the poetical texts (verses, poems, poetical prose). When a calligrapher interprets a poems he does not limit himself to merely copying it. Through his calligraphic art he resurrects all the gestural movement and the imaginary power of the signs. It is a personal way of penetrating the deepest meanings of each of the signs, to merge himself with the physical cadence of the poem and thus to recreate it. Another type of text, not less incantatory, equally attract the calligraphers: the sacred texts. Through these, calligraphic art gives again to the signs their original function, magical and sacred. The Taoist monks determine the efficiency of the talismans (or charms) that they delineate in the quality of their calligraphy which guarantees good communication with the beyond. The faithful Buddhists believe that they gain merits through copying canonical texts: the merits will be bigger in proportion to the excellence of their calligraphic quality.

No poet can remain insensitive to this sacred function of the delineated signs. As the calligrapher who through his dynamic action believes to connect the signs to the original world, to erupt a movement of harmonious or contrary forces, the poet does not doubt the unveiling of some secret to the universal good combining signs, as is clear from this verse by Tu Fu: ·

"Le poème achevé, dieux et démons sont stupéfaits!"5

("The poem being finished, goods and demons are astonished!").

From this conviction also derives, during the composition of a poem the quasi-mystic research of a 'key' word denominated tzu-yen·6 ('eye-word') which, suddenly giving light to the poem, would deliver the mystery of the hidden world. Numerous anecdotes tell how a poet prostrates before another, venerating him as his I-tzu-shih· ('one word master'), because he had revealed to him the essential and absolutely correct word which he needed in order to finish a poem and present a work of "perfect creativity".7

Regarding the imagistic aspect of the characters, incessantly enhanced and magnified by a calligraphic art which, during its execution, brings up from its multiple graphic layers its multiple meanings, the poet does not deprive himself from exploring his power to evoke. Wang Wei, an adept of the ch'an· (zen in Japanese) spirituality describes in a quartrain8 an hibiscus about to blossom. The poet attempts to suggest that after much contemplation of the tree, he became so intensely one with the tree that he felt as if he were the tree about to blossom. Instead of controlling a denotative? language in order to explain an experience, he is happy to line up five characters in the first line of the quartrain:

木

木

末

芙+蓉9

花
BRANCH

END

MAGNOLIA

FLOWER

 

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This verse can be translated as: "At the end of the branch, magnolia flowers [...]." Even a reader who does not understand Chinese can be touched by the visual aspect of these five characters in succession and aware to the meaning of the verse. If one reads the characters in their order one has in fact the sensation of assisting at a blossoming process of a tree which is about to blossom (first character: a naked tree; second character: something which bursts at the tip of the branches; third character: the formation of the 'bud'· 艹, being the radical of 'grass' or 'leaf'; fourth character: a bursting bud; fifth character: a fully opened flower). But behind what is shown (visual aspect) and what is denoted (normal meaning), the reader who knows the language will not miss the untavelling of the ideograms to find a subtly hidden idea: that of the protagonist entering into the spirit of the tree and participating in its metamorphosis. The third character 芙 contains in effect the element of 'man' 夫 which in itself contains the 'man'/'homo' 人 (So, the tree represented by the first two characters is, inexorably, inhabited by the presence of 'man'). The fourth character 蓉 contains the element 'face'·容 (the 'bud' bursts as a 'face'), which in itself contains the element 'mouth'· 口 (thus, 'speaking'). Finally, the fifth character contains the element 'transformation'· 化 ('man' participating in universal evolution). With great economy and without recurring to any external commentary, the poet reenacts under our eyes a mystical experience in its successive phases.

SIMA XIANGRU 司馬相如 (°179-†117BC). Alias: Chang Qing長卿. Sobriquet: You Zi 尤子. Prominent Western Han (206BC-AD9) Ci Fu • writer. Born in Chengdu • [city], Sichuan • province. LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm × 33.0 cm.

A second example is given by the poet Tu Fu when he uses in two of his verses a procedure dear to the Taoist priests in their trace delineation of magic formulas: a process which consists of superimposing names (sometimes invented) with the same 'radical' (or 'key'), as if trying to accumulate a type of energy suggested by the 'radical'. Not without being devoid of irony, as the verses describe the anxious waiting, and finally disillusioned (as the magic formula had no effect) of rain during a time of scorching heat. The poet uses a series of words with the 'radical' of 'rain'·雨: "thunder"-"lightning"·雷霆, "burst of the thunder"· 霹靂, "cloud"·云. And finally he writes the word "rain"· 雨 itself, a word which had already been previously contained in all the previous words which announced it. Vain promise. Because the word is immediately followed by the word "nothing"·無, thus ending the verse. Or the 'radical' of 'nothing' is 'fire'· 灬. So, the aborted "rain" is immediately engulfed by the 'burning atmosphere'. The two verses, accompanied by a word to word translation are as such:

雷 霆 空 霹 靂

云 雨 竟 虚 無

"Éclair tonerre en vain éclatant tonnant

Nuage pluie finalement illusoire néant"10

("Lightning thunder in vain bursting resounding

Cloud rain finally illusory nothing")

The compound of these aligned words having in mind their progression (the clouds which amass, the "thunder" which announces the "rain", the "rain" absorbed by the 'fire') and the contrast that they provoke creates an astonishing visual effect.

We will mention a last example of the use of graphic elements by the poets. It is the first strophe of a long poem by Chang Jo-hsü in which the poet immediately introduces the theme of the duality between two symbolic figurations: the 'river' ('space-time', 'permanence') and the 'moon' ('élan of life', 'vicissitude'):

春江潮水連海平

海上明月共潮生

灩灩隨波千萬里

何處春江無月明

Without clearly explaining the theme, the poet places in opposition a number of words with the 'radical' of 'water' 水 "river"· 江, "water"· 水, "sea"· 海, "shining"· 灎, "wave"· 波, and another group of words all containing the word 'moon' 月: "clarity" 明, "following"· 隨. Twice in between them appears the word "tide"· 潮, which also has the 'water' 'radical' but equally contains the character of 'moon' 月. If we represent the words of the 'water' group by / and all those of the 'moon' group by \ and the word "tide" which belongs to both groups as ×, the occurrences in the four verses can be diagramatically represented as follows:

The relationship sometimes of opposition and sometimes of correlation between the two figurations is graphically and efficiently suggested. §2. PAINTING If the link between calligraphy and poetical writing seems direct and natural, the one that links painting to poetical writing is equally important. In the Chinese tradition where painting is called wu-sheng-shih· ('silent poetry'), the two art forms acquire the same amplitude. Many poets also painted and, in the same manner all painters were meant to be poets. The most illustrious example is undoubtedly that of Wang Wei·, from the early T'ang·. An inventor of the monochrome technique and a precursor of the so-called 'spiritual painting', he became equally famous through his poems. His pictorial experience was foremost in the way he organized the meaning of his poetry, so that the poet Su Tong-po, · of the Song· dynasty was able to say that "[...] his paintings are poems and his poems paintings [...]." The connecting bridge between the first and the second is exactly calligraphy. And the outstanding manifestation of this triangular relationship - which constitutes the foundations of 'complete' art - is the tradition which consists in calligraphically adding a poem in the white space of a painting. Before we explain the real significance of this practice it must be underlined that both painting and calligraphy deal with the artistic handling of brushwork, thus facilitated their cohabitation. The art of calligraphy aims at reinstating the primordial rhythm and the vital gestures implied by the lines of the characters, and to liberate the Chinese artist from the problem of faithfully describing the external physical aspect of the world. This gave rise from very early times to a 'spiritual' painting which rather than attempting to reproduce the seen and to calculate geometric proportions, attempted to imitate the 'act of the Creator' through lines, forms and the essential movements of nature. In search for the same sovereign liberty as the calligrapher, the painter uses the brush in the same way. After a long apprenticeship during which he learns how to draw a great variety of elements from Nature and the world of mankind - the totality of these elements being the aim of a morose process of symbolization; when becoming significant units they allow to the artist the possibility of organizing them according to certain fundamental aesthetic laws - as if learning 'by heart' the visible universe, he starts producing works sufficiently consistent. Their execution is not made facing models (as all works must be projections from an inner world), but it unfolds as calligraphy, rhythmically, as if the artist were suddenly charged by an unabatable drive. This was possible exactly because all pictorial elements are based on line 'drawing'. Through their continuous rhythm the lines allow the artist to follow the movement first created by the 'primary brushstroke'.12 The real world appears under its brush with an uninterrupted 'vital flow'.13 To the eyes of the Chinese painter, lines experience at the same time the form of things and the pulsations of dreams; they are not mere contours; but through their plenitude and sinuosities, by the 'white' they frame, by the space they suggest, they imply from the beginning a volume (never static) and light (always changeable). So the painter creates a work controlling his lines, lines which meet or distance, lines which become incarnate in figurations preconceived and mastered in advance; not in copying or describing the world but in fathering it in a way instantaneous and direct, with adding up or retouching it, the figurations of the real according to the concepts of Tao •.

Of this symbiosis of the two arts comes important consequences for both. The interpenetration of the spatiality and temporality has exerted a definitive influence, on the one hand on the way the poet conceived a poem (notably that the poem does not inhabit only a time but also a space: not a space as an abstract framework, but a mediate place, where human signifiers and significant objects are implicated in a continuous multidirectional game. As in a Chinese painting with its axonometric perspective not giving any fixed and privileged viewpoint, and where the spectator is incessantly invited to penetrate in spaces either explicit or hidden, the signs of a poem are also not content to be mere intermediaries. Through their spatial organization they constitute a world of presence where is pleasant to inhabit and through which one can drift, making new discoveries and having new) and on the other hand the way the painter disposes his pictorial units in the painting (schematic symbolization of the elements of Nature, elements transformed in significant units, arrangement of these units on the double axis of opposition and correlation, etc.). Calligraphy is at the confluence where these two arts share the same fundamental laws of Chinese aesthetics. We are only insisting here in two primordial notions, that of the ch'i· or chi'yün ('rhythmic flow') and that of the hsü-shih· ('full-empty' in opposition). The expression of 'rhythmic flow' figurations in most of the texts on literary criticism and treatises on painting. 14 According to tradition, an authentic work (be it literature or art) must reinstate mankind in the universal 'vital flow', which should circulate through the work and fully animate it. That is why so much importance is frequently given to the rhythm of the syntax. Regarding the opposition 'full-empty', it is a fundamental notion in Chinese philosophy.15 In painting, it marks the opposition in a composition not only of the 'inhabited' realm as well as of the 'uninhabited', but also within the pictorial field where the elements defined by 'full' lines alternate with elements with broken or interrupted lines. To the eyes of a Chinese artist the making of a work, be it pictorial or calligraphic, is a spiritual exercise, its an occasion for a dialogue between the visible and the invisible, between the active and the passive, the eruption of an inner world regulated by the dynamic law of transformation. In a composition, the 'empty' is the introductory factor of the 'rhythmic flow' which animates the universe. Breaking the connections or the artificial oppositions and therefore, the rigid 'logic' of development, it creates a circular movement which recreates all matter in a process of reciprocal transformation:

MOUNTAIN WATER, TREE CLOUD, MAN ROCK, etc.

Through the presence of 'empty', a type of fifth dimension, the painter attempts to unite time with space, the inside with the outside and, ultimately, the protagonist (from which, in fact, derives the true 'empty') with the world. The notion of 'full-empty' was introduced by the T'ang poets in poetry. It refers to the way they handle the 'full words' (verbs and nouns) and the 'empty words' (secondary nouns, such as pronouns, prepositions, comparative words, particles, etc.).16 Through the omission of pronouns and 'empty words' and by the usage of certain 'empty-words' as 'full-words', the poet operates an internal opposition in the language and a deregulation of the nature of signs. The result was a language more pure but free, devoid of nature but sovereign, that the poet molds to its purposes.

§3. MYTHICAL ELEMENTS

In China mythicism is a vast and extremely complex territory. It will suffice here to indicate the types of relationships which might exist between myths and poetry. What connects both is, above all, writing, so it is from it that we will start our analysis.

As in poetry, writing plays an active role in mythicism. Because of its phonal and graphic specificity, its concrete and imagistic nature, its aptitudes to combine, it contributes to the creation of images and figurations which nourish both poetry and writing. Regarding calligraphy we have seen that in certain religious practices, writing was an inspirational source for the tracing of talismans and other magic formulas which frequently are graphic derivations from previously existent characters. In the same way, certain mythical personifications such as the Wen-k'ui-hsing, · are represented by a conglomerate of closely knit characters grouped as a human figure. All these applications, direct or non direct, attest from the worshippers with profound belief in the magic powers of the characters. For them, certain steles with the inscription of consecrated formulas effectively entreat the bad spirits. On the other hand, in certain temples, particularly those of the confucionists, the venerated representation over the altar is neither that of a figure or an iconography, but a board sequentially inscribed with the following characters:天地君親師· ("sky·-earth·-king·-parent·-master·" tiandi jun qinshi). To the eyes of the worshippers not only does each one of the characters stand for a living representation but their linear sequence truly establishes the line of descent which links them to the original universe. At that level, certain characters are, while living units, elements which constitute myths, with the same level as other mythical figurations and personifications.

The exploitation of writing by mythicism is not confined to the graphic area. Their oracy equally contributes to the creation of objects and figures with magic power. The characters being monosyllabic and their number of syllables being limited in Chinese, homophonous examples, particularly in simple words, are frequent. In popular religions there is the common resort of a procedure which consists of corresponding an abstract word to another which designates a tangible object, when they both have an identical pronunciation. So is the case when lu· ('deer') becomes a symbol of 'prosperity' and fu· ('bat') becomes that of 'happiness', simply because the words 'prosperity'· and 'happiness' are respectively pronounced 'lu' and 'fu'. Sometimes one goes so far as associating several objects in order to create relationships with traditional expressions. For instance, during certain celebrations, a musical instrument called sheng· is placed by the side of tsao-tzu· ('jujubes'), in order to express the best wishes to have an 'abundant progeny', which is spelled in Chinese as tsao-sheng-tzu. · Thus, a multitude of animals and objects charged with magic powers came to inhabit the universe of the imaginary and nourish popular tales. This procedure (a kind of charade) based on nonsense is equally apt to mythical entities.

Anonymous (Active ca AC100). "Every She-Day there's no sewing and knitting. My heart grieves at the sight of swallows courting. Spring is already half gone in my river-town. Yet I am still amidst wild mountains. A lonely soul wandering by streams and over bridges. Who's going to sew up the holes in my thorn clothes? Tears start trickling down my cheeks. Dismounting on the grassy bank ant sundown, Again I find myself sadly alone: No one wears these flowers, No one invites me to wine. And no one cares when I'm drunk dead!" Translated by Ieong Sao Leng, Sylvia 楊秀玲 Yang Xiuling LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

Let us take for instance Wen-t'ai-shih· (God of Thunder, literally meaning: 'The big master who understands'). Frequently the first character of his name, wen· 聞 ('understand') is written instead as wen· 文 ('trace', 'writing') because it is pronounced the same way. By making a correspondence, apparently arbitrary, between the two 'wen', the worshippers add another attribute to the God of Thunder, thus being not only the one who understands but also someone who traces and writes: one eye to see and one ear to listen.

This ingenious utilization of the graphic and audio qualities of writing within the religious practices is the same as one can observe in poetry. The poet also exploits the possibility of giving rise to images, sometimes strange and powerful, from a convergence between the graphic and the phonal. But this relationship between myth and poetry does not stop here. We will see (in chapter III. IMAGES) that, following the patterns of writing, Chinese poetry has a tendency to a systematic symbolization of nature in order to generate a complex game on the metaphorical-metonimic levels. This generalized symbolization is also apparent in Taoism and in the popular religions. An impressive number of cosmological elements, of Nature and of mankind's world are carriers of symbolic meanings: thus they weave a vast mythic network, allowing the human mind to bind itself without hindrances, to the ensemble compound of the objective world. Poetic symbolism and mythic symbolism are not two separate realms living in parallel without links between themselves, on the contrary, they are mutually supportive, interpenetrating each other and ending up by coming together as two arms of the same river. Poetry, although vastly borrowing symbolic figurations from collective myths, enriches these new figurations that it creates throughout the ages. More, both poetry and mythicism make use of a same system of correspondences (numbers, elements, colours, sounds, etc.), originally proposed by tradition. Their relationship at this intimate point is that the long development of Chinese poetry in itself precludes the slow constitution of a collective mythology.

§4.

In this way, poetry is an integral part of an organic ensemble of semiotic systems. Taking advantage of the ideographic writing (which enabled the birth of a written prose called wen-yen, · quite remote from the spoken language), since its early days poetry devised a specific language which was to become the initiating pattern for others languages, despite also being influenced by them. This interaction between both languages was to became a source of wealth for both of them. She was to give them both the possibility of inspiring still others and to become free from their specific constraints. Summarily, once again, the common features characteristic to these languages: systematic symbolization of the elements of Nature and of the world of mankind, the constitution of symbolic figurations into significant units, the structuring of these units according to certain fundamental rules foreign to the linear and irreversible logic, the engendering of a semiotic universe ruled by a circular movement where mankind and the world mutually interact and expand incessantly.

What we propose to analyze here is Chinese classical poetry as a specific language: its laws, structures and implications for the Chinese semiology (and eventually, to semiology in general). During this analysis, we are not going to disdain what might contribute to the understanding of the language, and in this, we can seek assistance from the ample Chinese tradition of poetical criticism contained in the numerous shih-hua· ('reports on poetry'), which started appearing after the period of the Northern and Southern dynasties· (ca 381- ca 581), as well as by the studies in Japanese and in Western languages. It is true that most of these studies are centered in problematic of genders and themes as well as in the philological aspect. Regarding the structures of the language and the signification of forms, they still belong to an unexplored domain.

The corpus to which we will make particular reference is that of the T'ang poetry, from the seventh to the ninth centuries, which constitutes by its fecundity and variety, as well as by its formal research, the summit of classic poetry. This poetry is the summit of a long adventure. The Shih-ching· (Book of Songs), a lyrical compilation which inaugurates all Chinese literature contains poems which go as far back as one-thousand years BC. Since its appearance, Chinese poetry has known an uninterrupted development. 17 Under the T'ang (AD618-907) all styles and all poetical forms were collected and codified; and so they should continue without being modified until the beginning of this century. It was during the T'ang dynasty that the most consistent and fruitful attempts to explore the limits of Chinese language were made. During three centuries18 thanks to a convergence of favourable circumstances, several generations of poets submitted themselves to intense creative activity. The Ch'üan-T'ang-shih· (The Complete Poetry of the T'ang) a work compiled during the eighteenth century under the Ch'ing· dynasty is a collection of more than fifty thousand poems by around two thousand poets. We will restrict ourselves to the 'best examples', that is to those who are traditionally recognized as being the most representative and to those who also reveal a certain formal interest.

CAO CAO 曹操 (AD°155-†220). Alias: Meng De 孟德. Founder of the Jian An· [School of] literature. LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

Our study is divided into two sections: a theory section and an anthology section. In the first section these topics will be successively analyzed: The relationship between popular language and poetical language, that is the 'furthering' that the latter takes from the former in relation to the rules of lexicons and syntax, and the consequences it might carry (the 'passive procedures'); the strictly poetical forms, regarding their structure and significants (the 'active procedures'); and finally, we will attempt to show how to explore the imaginative creativity (the images), expanding on the specific language and profiting from the structural economy that it implies. In an attempt to reach a practical finality (that of initiating the reading of Chinese poetry) and having in mind the obstacles of Chinese language as such, our analysis attempts to be as little 'abstract' as possible, trying to support itself, step by step, on concrete examples. Most of these examples are extracted from the second section, which constitutes a selection of poems classified according to style (genre) and accompanied by: a phonetic transcription, 19 a word by word translation, and then by an interpretative translation. Regarding translations20 we must explain that the one we have aims basically at explicating certain hidden nuances in the verses. Regarding the word by word translation, useful for the reader and indispensable for the requirements of our analysis, on its own it would only explicit a caricature of the original poem, giving the impression of a fragmented and laconic language, containing no elements of a real translation, nor the cadence of the verses, nor the implications of the syntax of the words, nor - above all - the ambivalent nature of the ideograms and the emotional charge they contain. In a poem, the ideograms detached from its accessory elements acquire a more intense presence: and the apparent or implicit relationships that they carry between themselves orientate the meaning in multiple directions. That which is untranslatable is what obviously writing had not the ability to write, but also what it added to the language.

Reaffirming the value of the T'ang poets' researches we are not ignorant that the corpus here dwelt with is but a facet of the Chinese language. A contradiction seems thus to arise: we are trying to come to terms with a reality apparently well defined and we know that it is the result of a dynamic practice which contains the germ of all virtualities of alterations and transformations. This contradiction is sensed, in a way, by the T'ang poets themselves. We can find proof of it in the profound meaning of the lü-shih, · the most important form of Chinese classic poetry (a form which will be studied in chapter II. THE ACTIVE PROCEDURES). Essentially the lü-shih is a system of dialectical thought based on the alternation or opposition between the 'parallel' verses and the 'non-parallel' verses. Regarding parallelism (which we will also analyze its implications in chapter II.) what can immediately be said is that, due to its internal spatial organization, it introduces another order in the linear progression of language: an autonomous order, self-centered, in which the signs dialogue among them and justify by themselves as liberated from external constraints and thus resting out of time. Their codification in the poetry of the early T'ang reflects, besides a dualistic conception of life, the intense confidence that the poets placed in the capacity of signs. They really think that by their trickery, they would be able to recreate a universe according to their volition. But, on the other hand this pretension was denied by the fact that in the lü-shih structure, the 'parallel' verses must be followed by 'non-parallel' verses. These 'non-parallel' verses which must end the poem seem to introduce again in the temporal procedure, an open time, promissory to all metamorphoses. And a metamorphosis is exactly what happened to the language of the T'ang poets, 21 worn by the passing of time and witnessed one thousand years later, around 1920, with the death of the wen-yen ('old written language') and its substitution by the pai-huai· ('modern language') which pushed poetry to further adventures.

But it is not the least paradoxical of Chinese poetical writing that, despite the affirmation of a semiotic order and its own negation, here remain the permanence of signs, invariable signs and independent of phonal changes, thanks to which, beyond the passing of centuries, an infinitely 'oral' poetry is presented to us charged with the same evocative power and in all its splendour of youth.

I

THE PASSIVE PROCEDURES

§1.

It being our objective to capture Chinese poetry as a specific language, we will first observe the relationship between the poetical language and the popular everyday language. What strikes us right from the start is the distancing between popular language and the most elaborate forms invented by the T'ang poets. This distancing is not based on an outright rejection of popular sources. Rather, the poets' search to obtain the maximum from certain virtualities of a language of ideographic writing and with an isolated structure. Their task was made easy by the existence of wen-yen, a basically written language and of a concise style. It will be thus in relationship to the spoken language (as we know it through popular literature) and by the wen-yen that the poetical language will be defined.

Of the lexical and syntactical plans the most important factor which worries the poets is, as it was already expressed in the Introduction, the opposition between two 'full words' (the nouns and two types of verbs: action verbs and qualifying verbs) as well as the empty words (the compound of the toolwords: pronouns, adverbs, prepositions, conjunctions, comparative words, particles, etc.). This opposition is made on two levels. At a superficial level, it is enough to judiciously alternate 'full words' with 'empty words' in order to make the verses more colourful. But the poets soon understand that in poetry, the importance of the role played by rhythm (linked to the philosophical notion of the 'vital flow') which might determine the demarcation and connection task between words (a task which is assumed by the 'empty words' in normal language). So, at a deeper level, the poets proceed to successively reduce the 'empty words' (mainly the pronouns, the propositions, the comparative words and the particles) only retaining from the 'empty words' certain adverbs and conjunctions, and this exactly in order to give to language a dimension of depth, exactly that of the true 'void'.

In certain circumstances the poets go so far as to replace a 'full word' (most frequently a verb) by an 'empty word', always with the preoccupation to insert the 'empty' in the 'full', but this time by substitution. About this we must make note that even among the 'full words' there are distinctions such as shi tzu·/huo tzu· ('dead words'/'live words') and ching tzu·/tong tzu· ('static words'/'dynamic words') which denote the difference between the noun and the verb, and mainly inbetween the two types of verbs: the qualitative verbs (adjectives) and the active verbs. So, to the eyes of the poet who searches to grasp the hidden meaning of things, a verb might be considered in three forms: 'dynamic' (when employed as an action verb), 'static' (when employed as a qualitative verb) and finally, 'empty' (when it is replaced by an 'empty word').

The sequel to this chapter will thus be dedicated to the observation of the procedures by which the poets extract from ordinary language certain existing elements, which we will call passive procedures. We will see that that series of ellipses is not only derived from style. The 'emptiness' they provoke between the signs and 'behind' the signs modify their implications and therefore the relationship between mankind and the world (this relationship being expressed, in Chinese poetry, by the association of two terms: ch'ing· ('inner feeling') and ching· ('outer landscape').

§2. THE ELLIPSE OF THE PERSONAL PRONOUNS

If already in the wen-yen the lack of personal pronouns was considerable, it must be said that it is even more obvious in poetry and practically nonexistent in the lü-shih ('regular poetry'22). This volition to avoid as much as possible the three grammatical persons [I/we, you/you, he-she-it/they] determines a conscious choice; it places the personal subject in a direct relationship with the beings and things. Diluting itself, or better still, making understood, but not explicitly expressed, his presence, the subject internalizes the external elements. That is even more apparent in phrases which would usually be made up of a personal subject and a transitive verb, and where a circumstantial complement of either time, place or even mode, in the absence of determining attributes, are constituents of the real subject.

CAO PI 曹丕 (AD°187-226). Alias: Zi Heng 子桓. Prominent literati of the Jian An period. LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

"Sommet du Mont Coupe-d'encens

Y avoir haut ermite demeurer

Soleil crépusculaire descendre du Mont

Lune claire remonter au sommet"

("Crest of the Hill Incense burner

To have there high hermit live

Crepuscular sun descends the Hill

Bright moon rises crest")

For the last two verses of the quartrain, the reader reestablishes the 'normal' phrase: "As sunset, he (the hermit) descends from the mountain: and he goes up again to its summit when the moon rises." Beyond that is also implied the intention of the poet which is to identify the "hermit" to the cosmic elements: the "sun" and the "moon" no longer being mere 'time attributes'. The daily outing of the hermit is presented, as such, as the movement of the cosmos itself.

"Montagne vide ne percevoir personne

Seulement entendre voi humaine résonner

Soleil couchant pénétrer forêt profonde

Un instant encore illuminer mousse verte" 23

("Mountain empty to see no one

Only listen human voice echoing

Setting sun penetrating deep forest

An instant still brighten green moss")

This quartrain was written by Wang Wei, the poet-painter admirer of ch 'an. He describes a walk in the mountain which is at the same time a spiritual experience, the experience of emptiness and of communion with Nature. The first verses should be interpreted as follows: "In the empty mountain I meet no one; I can only hear the echoes of the walking people." But through the suppression of the personal pronoun and the location elements, the poet becomes unequivocally identified with the "empty mountain", which goes beyond being a 'complementary site': the same way in the third verse he 'becomes' the radiant glow of the "setting sun penetrating" in the "deep forest." From the contextual view point the first two verses present the poet as 'not yet seeing': in his ears still echoes the sound of human voices. The last two verses have as theme 'vision': to see the golden effect of the "setting sun" over the "green moss." To "see" means here the illumination and the in depth communion with the essence of things. Furthermore, the poet frequently omits of the personal pronoun in order to describe the sequence of events where human gestures are linked to the movements of Nature. Let us cite the following verses:

"Nuages blancs retourner contempler se fondre

Rayon vert pénétrer chercher invisible" 24

("White clouds return contemplate melt

Green ray penetrate search [make] invisible")

Here, during a lonely walk, the poet turns to "contemplate" the drifting "clouds" until they disperse - and the poet with them - in an indivisible wholeness (the idea of total communion); he moves towards the "green ray" which comes from the luxuriant Nature, but as he gradually "penetrates" in its luminous space the "green" light becomes invisible (the idea of illumination in the non-being). Both verses are terminated by three verbs in succession: the person of the first two verses is the poet, and that of the last one, Nature. The verses thus composed strongly suggest the fusion process of mankind with the cosmos.

"Sommeil printanier ignorer aube

Tout autor entender chanter oiseaux...

Nuit passée: bruissement de vent, de pluie;

Pétales tombés, qui sait combien..." 25

("Spring dream ignore rising sun

All around listen sing birds...

Passing night: rustling of wind, of rain;

Fallen petals, who knows how many...")

This quartrain describes the impressions of a sleeping creature waking up on a spring morning (at the crack of dawn). The reader is invited to suddenly participate in the state of consciousness of the dreamer (or better, in his state of half-awakening, because, as soon as he wakes-up everything gets confused in his mind). The first verse does not saturate the reader imagining someone who sleeps, but places him at the level of his sleep, a sleep which is confused with that of "spring." The three other verses, when understood in superimposition. 'represent' the three layers of the dreamer's conscience: present (chirping of the "birds"), past ("rustling of the wind" and "rain"), and future (awareness of a fugitive happiness and the vague desire to go to the garden to contemplate the flower "petals" spread over the ground). A clumsy translator, in an attempt to 'elucidate', makes use of a denotative language, establishing, for instance... "[...] when I sleep in spring [...]", "All around me I hear [...]","[...] I remember that [...]", "[...] I wonder if [...]", thus conveying the idea of a protagonist completely wide awake, out of that blissful state and making a 'commentary' detached from his sensations.

The so far given examples all show a person in the singular (an 'I' or a 'he'). In poems which assemble a number of protagonists the ambiguity which derives from the lack of personal pronouns is not necessarily detrimental to the reader's comprehension, instead it frequently even adds subtle nuances.

The following example shows us the poet visiting a hermit (a Taoist monk). The poem implies an 'I' and a 'you', although these two pronouns are never used:

"Le Chemin traverser maints endroits

Mousses tendres percevoir traces de sabots

Nuages blancs entourant îlot calme

Herbes folles enfermant porte oisive

Pluie passée contempler couleur de pins

Colline longée atteindre source de rivière

Fleurs du ruisseau réléver esprit de ch'an

Face à face déjà hors de la parole" 26

("The road cross multiple sites

Soft moss see traces of clogs

White clouds surrounding tranquil islet

Crazy foliage involving inactive door

Past rain contemplate colour of pines

Alongside hill reach source of river

Flowers of the stream reveal spirit of ch 'an

Face to face already out of words")

CAO ZHI 曹植 (AD°192-†232). "Qi Bu Shi*** What a pretty dish of beans we've got, With a juicy mess boiling in the pot! The beanstalks benbeath are burning fiercely, While the beans above are weeping bitterly: Aren't we offspring of the selfsame root? Why is there all the haste to torment me to death?" Translated by Ieong Sao Leng, Sylvia 楊秀玲 Yang Xiuling LEI CHI NGOK李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

In order to reach the site where the hermit lives (verses three and four: "[...] clouds surrounding tranquil islet [...] foliage involving inactive door [...]") The visitor traverses a landscape full of accidents yet inhabited by the presence of the hermit. Although not named by a 'you' the hermit is not presented either as the 'purpose' of the visit isolated from its environment. Not declaring his presence by an 'I', the poet is felt within all the elements of the landscape (becoming "moss", "rain", "pines", "hill" and "source") which is no more that the inner landscape of the hermit. The material road becomes a 'spiritual Way'. When we finally reaches the destination (which destination?) the visitor and the host become united with Nature. In the last verse, the expression "face to face" is not devoid of ambiguity and gives way to multiple interpretations: it is the union of the 'I' and the 'you'; or both of them together in the presence of the spirituality of ch'an (zen); or even the 'I' in company of the flowers, the host being absent? Anyway, for the visitor to have finally met his host or not, to have spoken with him or not, is not really important, because his itinerary goes beyond words. In this language where the indicators 'I' and 'you' are absent the objectifying discourse coincides with the personal discourse. This brings about, once again, the intention of the poet which is to interiorise the external elements and, through them, to suppress the opposition between the protagonist and the objective world.

Let us finally quote a poem by Tu Fu which involves a number of protagonists. It is called Seconde envoi à mon neveu Wu-lan (The second letter to my nephew Wu-lan), who Tu Fu dedicates to his nephew, to whom he left his land parcel. The poet asks his nephew not to plant hedges on the western part of the garden, as this would frighten his western neighbour, an extremely poor woman who usually comes to get jujubes for nourishment. The poems goes like this:

TU FU 杜甫

"Second envoi à mon neveu Wu-lang

Devant chaumière secouer jujubier voisine de l'ouest

Sans nourriture sans enfant une femme esseulée

Si point de misère pourquoi avoir recours à ceci

À cause de honte d'autant plus être bienveillant.

Se méfier de l'hôte étranger bien que superflu

Planter haies même clairsemées néanmoins trop réel

Se plaindre corvées-impôts dépouillée jusqu'aux os

Penser flammes de guerre larmes mouiller habits" 27

("The second letter to my nephew Wu-lan

In front hut shake jujube western neighbour,

Without food without child an abandoned woman

Such a misery why resort to this

Because of shame all the more to be benevolent

Be wary of the foreign host which is superfluous

Plant hedges even if sparsely, nonetheless too real

Complain drudgeries-taxes bare to the bones

Think war flames tears drench garnments")

The poem stages three protagonists: the poet ('I'), the nephew ('you') and the woman ('she/her'). The term 'protagonist' in this case is not adequate because with the omission of the personal pronouns the poet exactly attempts to create a 'inter-subjective' consciousness where the other is never directly confronted. From one verse to the next the poet identifies himself with one and then another person (the third, fifth and seventh verses make reference to 'her'; the fourth and sixth verses to 'you' and the last verse to an 'I' or 'us'), as if it was in possession of several viewpoints at the same time. The poem presents itself as the inner debate of a same person, through which the narrative and the history are incessantly confused.

TU FU 杜甫

"Buvant seul sous la lune

Parmi les fleurs

Seul à boire sans mes amis intimes

Levant la coupe inviter la lune

Face à l'ombre voici trois personnes

La lune point ne savoir boire

L 'ombre en vain suivre mon corps

Un instant accompagner ombre et lune

Jouir de la vie à même le printemps

Je chante et la lune musarde

Je danse et l'ombre s'élance

Éveillés communier dans la joie

Et ivres chacun se séparer

À jamais nouer liens non-attachés

Se retrouver lointaine Voie-lactée" 28

("Drinking alone under the moon

Among the flowers a jug of wine

Alone drinking without close friends

Raising the cup inviting the moon

Facing the shadows here are three people

The moon does not know how to drink

The shadow in vain follow my body

An instant accompany shadow and moon

Enjoy life and also the spring

I sing and the astonished moon

I dance and the shadow spreads

Awaken to commune in joy

Drunk each one goes his way

Never to knot non-attached links

To meet again distant Milky-way")

This poem by Li Po, of Taoist inspiration has for title Buvant seul sous la lune (Drinking alone under the moon). Despite the apparent simplicity of its imagery, the poet deals in fact with a number of subjects: that of illusion versus reality, that of the 'self' and the 'other', that of attachment and detachment, etc. Without being a dupe of illusion he invents wine companionship: his "shadow" and the "moon" which projects that "shadow". Through these figurations, sometimes divided and interdependent, he becomes conscious of his own self (sixth verse: "my body") as an acting person (ninth and tenth verses: "I sing [...] I dance"). His singing and dancing which find an echo in his "close friends", enable him to savour a shared "joy". It is true that it is only a provisional "joy", and that the poet longs for a truly and everlasting union (together yet free - the 'non-commitment') in the "Milky-way" where light and shadows are indistinct. During the poem there is at first the rise of the 'I' and then its binding refonte with the 'All', and this is exactly underlined by the way the 'I' appears half-way in the poem, while the defining of the person is absent from the beginning and the end of the poem.

TAO YUANMING 陶淵明(AD°365-†427). Aliases: Yuan Liang 元亮, Wuliu Xianheng 五柳先生·. LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

The collection of the studied poems, most of all very short, showed us how through the procedure of the ellipse of the pronouns, man speaks 'through' things. The poet does so quite frequently either with ingenuity or with malice. We are going to quote now, rather randomly, a few examples extracted from not so short poems. During the An Lu-shan· rebellion in AD757, Tu Fu· presented himself to the emperor in rags. In order to emphasize the disgraceful condition to which he had reduced himself and the solemnity of the circumstance, instead of saying "Wearing shredded sandals I presented myself to the Emperor", he simple says devoid of all irony:

"Sandalles de paille visiter Fils du Ciel" 29

("Straw sandals visit Son of Heaven")

In another circumstance he finished a long poem describing the sufferings of those who, in war times, from so much crying have no more that tearless hollow sockets:

"Yeux desséchés alors voir os

Ciel et Terre être sans pitié!"30

("Dry eyes then see bones

Heaven and Earth to be without pity!")

The force of these verses without a personal identity derives from the ambiguity of knowing who is seeing what. Either it is the poet who through the "dry eyes" of the paupers sees their faces reduced to living skulls, or is it that through the "eyes" of the paupers themselves that 'crude reality' is seen: a "Heaven and [an] Earth [...] without pity" for all those destined to die. This is also a situation concomitantly seen from the outside and from the inside. In many other examples it is always the direct communion with Nature that the poets aim to express. For instance, Li Po addressing himself to a hermit friend, instead of saying "When I will later arrive to keep you company, we will ride a white dragon in the blue Heaven", writes:

"Tard dans l'année peut-être en compagnie Ciel bleu chevauchant dragon blanc" 31

("Late in the year maybe in company

Blue Heaven riding white dragon")

The poet is no longer in the "blue Heaven" but is part of it: a Taoist dream par excellence. Similarly Wei Chuang· expresses that not only he is in the boat but that he has become the "boat" itself between "sky" and "water":

"Eaux printanières plus émeraudes que le ciel Barque peinte écoutant pluie s'endormir"32

("Spring waters more emerald than the sky Painted boat listening rain falling asleep")

§3. THE ELLIPSE OF THE PREPOSITION

In the sequence of the ellipse of the personal pronouns we have had the chance to verify the effect of the omission of the preposition in the location complements (of place, of time); which, with the non-existence of words such as: 'to', 'on', 'in', etc., become nouns in their own right ("empty mountain" instead of 'to the empty mountain'; "soft moss" instead of 'on the soft moss'; "spring sleep" instead of 'when one sleep's in spring'), which enabled them to become the subjects of the phrases. Here it is at the level of the predicate that we are going to observe the same effect. It is essentially the case where the omission of the personal subject withdraws from the verb all indication of direction, thus provoking a reversible language where subject and object, inside and outside, can be found in a relationship of reciprocity.

This reciprocity is based in the 'inter-subjectivity' so well expressed in the poem Nuit de fleuve printanier et de Lune fleuri (Night of Spring Stream and Flowery Moon) by Chang Jo-hsü·:

"Qui voguer, cette nuit, en sa barque légère, Et où donc penser pavillon sous la lune"33

("Whom drift, this night, in the frail boat

And where then think pavilion under the moon")

The verses tell the drama of two separated lovers; the second verse being interpreted two different ways:

1. "Where [is] then [ he who] thinks [ about the] pavilion under the moon?"

2. "Where [is] then [ she who] thinks [ in her] pavilion under the moon?"

The ambiguity of this phrase is voluntary, because the separated lovers think about each other, at the same time, throughout the "night".

There is a reciprocity between subject and object, as in the following two verses:

"Lumière de montagne jouir humeur des oiseaux

Ombre de l'ét'ang vider cœur de l'homme" 34

("Light of the mountain enjoy mood of birds

Shadow of the pond empty heart of mankind")

These two verses are from a poem by Ch'ang Chien· entitled Visite au Monastère de P'o-shan (Visit to the monastery of P'o-shan). This is a poem which has had numerous translations to Western languages, and obviously the ambiguity of these two verses has given rise to quite different interpretations, similarly to what has happened in the previous examples. 35

Let us examine the second verse. It contains the verb 'to empty' (which here means 'to reach spiritual vacuity') which not being designated by a proposition, the immediate constituent of the verse had at least three meanings:

1. At the "shadow [of the] pond [the] heart of man [gets] empty";

2. The "shadow [of the] pond [gets] empty [in the] heart of man"; and

3. The "shadow [of the] pond empties [the] heart of man".

WANG WEI 王維 (AD°701 -†761). Alias: Mo Ji 摩詰. Born in Taiyuan· [city]. LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

The following diagram explains the aspects mobile and reversible of these different syntactical structures:

Let us see as a last example two verses36 through which Tu Fu attempts to bring out the relations and interrelations between the terrestrial elements of the cosmos and those to which is conditioned the destiny of man: "Étoiles suspendre plaine sauvage élargir Lune élever grand fleuve couler" 37 ("Stars suspend valley savage enlarge Moon raise big river flow") The two verses being 'parallel', in each of them it is possible to observe a regular succession of nouns and verbs. In the absence of formal traces, the verbs are concomitantly transitive and intransitive. For example, in the second verse, the first verb yong· can be translated by ('surgir') 'to appear' or ('soulever') 'to rise', and the second verb lu· by ('couler') 'to flow' or ('charrier') 'to drag along'. The verses as they stand may allow the following interpretations: 1. The "moon (surgit) [appears and the] river flows"; 2. The "moon (s'élève) rises [over the] river [and the] river flows; 3. The "moon (soulève) rises [the] river" and precipitates its waves; 4. The "moon (s'élève) rises [over the] river [and its] brightness flows" according to the waves; and 5. The "moon (s'élève) rises [and the] river drags it along. So, the ellipse of the post-verbal element gives 'liberty' to the verbs, being adequate to both subjects at the same time (the "moon" (s'élève) "rises", the "moon" (fait monter) "rises" the "river"; the "river flows", the "river" drags along the "moon"). All the verses are constructed by a series of pieces which fit together. One could also start the reading after the third character of the third line and end it at the beginning of the verse. A dialectical relationship is thus established between both images: the "moon" (élan of life, human destiny) and the "river" (infinite space, timeless and immeasurable) which we attempt to express by the following diagram: La cithare ornée de brocart (The zither ornate with brocade), which theme is an amorous affair: "Cette passion pourra-t-elle durer et devenir "poursuite-souvenir"? Seulement en ce temps-là (on était) déjà "dé-possédé""38 (" Could this passion last and become "development-memory"? Only in those times (we were) already "un-commited"") The poet places himself at the moment when this "passion" occurred (first verse) and at the moment when he thinks he has reenacted this "passion" in his memory (second verse), at the same time asking himself if it really existed. A second example is a poem entitled Mawei. • This poem evokes the sad love of emperor Hsuan-tsung· who besotted by his favourite Kui-fei· totally neglected the affairs of his kingdom. After the An Lu-shan rebellion, and on the way to exile it was hopeless to prevent the soldiers killing his favourite. After the event, the inconsolable emperor repeatedly sent Taoist monks beyond the seas to the world of the immortals in search of his beloved's soul: (a) 1. "Par-delà les mers en vain apprendre Neuf Contrées changer 2. L'autre vie non prédite cette vie arrêtée (b) 3. Encore entendre tigres-garde battre cloches de bois 4. Ne plus revenir coq-homme annoncer arrivée de l'aube (c) 5. Aujourd'hui Six Armées ensemble arrêter chevaux 6. L'autre nuit Double Sept rire de Bouvier-Tisserande (d) 7. Pourquoi donc quatre décades être Fils du Ciel 8. Ne valoir point fils de Lu avec Sans souci"39 (a) 1. ("Beyond the seas in vain learn Nine Regions change 2. The other life does not predicts the arrest of this life (b) 3. Still listening guards-tigers hitting wooden bells 4. Never again come back man-cockerel announcing arrival of sunrise (c) 5. Today Six Armies together stop horses 6. The other night Double Seven laughed of Herdsman-Weaver girl (d) 7. Why then four decades to be Son of Heaven 8. No value whatsoever son of Lu with Careless")

At the core of this discourse of imprecision (or undecided) time, the third distich introduces in an incongruous manner the complements of time "Today" (fifth verse) and "the other night" (sixth verse) which suggest a 'present' around which is fixed a thought (verse five evokes the scene of the killing, while verse six speaks of the happy lovers "laughing" about the "Herdsman" and the "Weaving girl", two stars which are located at opposite ends of the Milky way and that, according to legend, cannot be united only once a year, on the night of the seventh day of the seventh month). We have already drawn attention to the fact that personal pronouns, that the absence of a "shifter"40 create an ambiguous language. Here, in the context of a language equally ambiguous, the irruption of a "shifter" (today) brutally introduces in personal discourse and strongly brands the irreducible character of the human drama that refuses to be 'absorbed' by time.

The last distich brings the discourse into an objective perspective. The image of the "Son of Heaven" echoes an initial interrogation of the poem: are we speaking about earthly or celestial matters? If happiness has never been achieved on earth, it was perhaps in a previous life (the young "Lu" and her beloved "Careless" have happily lived eight hundred years before the Han·), or will it be in another life yet to come?

§5. THE ELLIPSE OF COMPARATIVE WORDS AND VERBS

In the verses which carry a comparison, also noticeable is the lack not only of conjunctive words (such, as) but also of verbs (to look like, to evoke) and of copula. This procedure can be compared to the omission of the main verb in a phrase.

The omission of comparative words is not motivated by a mere preoccupation with economy: allowing the 'brutal' closeness of two terms, it creates between them a relationship of tension and interaction. Besides that, if the poet adds the inversion in an existential or comparative phrase, it is frequently difficult to designate to each of the terms the status of subject or object; by this procedure which is not only an equivalence method, the poet 'organically' binds human events to those of Nature. In order to illustrate what has just been said we will make reference to two examples, one by Li Po and another by Tu Fu.

"Nuage flottant humeur du vagabond

Soleil couchant cœur du delaissé" 42

("Floating cloud vagabond mood,

Setting sun abandoned heart")

These verses are extracted from a poem describing a farewell scene where before the traveler mounts his horse, the two friends enjoy one last moment at sunset. Nature is not an external decor but an intrinsic element of the drama. The absence of comparative words brings, in each verse, both terms in reciprocal relation. The first verse may be interpreted as: "The mood of the vagabond is like a floating cloud", as well as "The cloud drifts according to the mood of the vagabond". In the second interpretation, Nature is not only 'a supplier of metaphorical imagery' but is contained in the same drama as the man. This idea of a participating Nature is reinforced by the circumstance that the two verses are 'parallel'. The two elements of Nature: the "floating cloud" and the "setting sun", carry a confronting relation of continuity as well as opposition. In effect they both hover together for a while, but while one rises towards heaven, the other descends towards the earth. They come to know the dreads of separation. This 'significant' relationship detaches them from being fortuitous comparative elements. The four terms in the two verses thus 'juxtaposed', create between themselves links founded by an internal necessity. The drama of mankind is inseparable from that of Nature.

Everything happens as if, through the absence of a predication the poet was attempting to overcome a metaphorical procedure by introducing an properly metonymic order.

"Soleil-lune oiseaux en cage

Ciel-terre lentilles sur l'eau"

("Sun-moon caged birds

Sky-earth lentils on water")

In these verses the ellipse of the comparative word enables a double reading, in the sense that, in the first verse the first comparative term may be "sun-moon" or an implied 'I'. This verse can also be translated as: "The sun and the moon are like two birds in a cage" or "These days (in Chinese: sun-moon) I am a prisoner as a bird in a cage". In the same way the second verse can be interpreted in two different way: "Between the sky and the earth I am like lentils on water" or "The universe (in Chinese: sky-earth [Heaven-Earth]) is inconstant and uncertain as lentils on water."

Participating from the same type of research is the omission of the verb in a phrase. Through this procedure the poet attempts to promote certain elements giving them a definitive tinge, or determining a state where the elements coexist at the same time as they entwine.

"Mer d'émeraude ciel d'azur nuit-nuit coeur"43

("Emerald sea azure sky heart night-night")

This is how Li Shang-yin sings of the destiny of the fairy Ch'ang-O· imprisoned in the moon. Between the "sky" and the "sea" shines every "night" the suffering longing "heart". The Chinese original version of the verse derives its greatest strength by being devoid of a verbal indication.

DU FU 杜甫 (AD°712-†770). Alias: Zi Mei子美. Born in Gongxian· county, Henan· [province]. The most prominent 'realist' poet of the Tang dynasty (AD618-907), consecrated to posterity as a 'Poetic Saint'.· LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

This type of verse, where signs are not carried by the rhythm is difficult to achieve. We will include three other examples among the better known:

1. "Chant de coq auberge de chaume lune

Trace de pas pont de bois givres" 44

("Cockerel song hut of thatch moon

Trace of steps bridge of thrushes")

2. "Fleuve sidéral automne seule oie sauvage

Linges battus minuit mille foyers éclairés"45

("Sidereal river autumn lonesome wild goose

Beating clothes midnight one thousand lit homes")

3. "Cinq lacs trois hectares cabane

Dix mille li un unique revenant"46

("Five lakes three hectares hut

Ten thousand li only one ghost")

§6. 'EMPTY-WORDS' IN SUBSTITUTION OF A VERB

Until here we have observed how, through the suppression of certain 'empty-words', the poet managed to create a sense of 'emptiness' between the words. It must now be explained how the poet replaces a 'full word' with an 'empty word' (generally a verb), in order to, once again, introduce in the verse a sense of 'emptiness', this time by substitution. In the following examples the 'empty words' which fulfill verbal function are indicated by a different typeface:

1. "Grand âge souvent route-chemin

Jour tardif à nouveau mont-fleuve"47

("Old age frequently road-path

Late day again mountain-river")

2. "Feuilles jaunes toujours vent-pluie

Pavillon vert en soi échos de musique"48

("Yellow leaves always wind-rain

Green pavilion itself echoes of music")

3. "Pays devastés seuls serpent-ganglier

Ciel-terre encore tigre-loup"49

("Devastated country lonesome snake-wild boar

Sky-earth still tiger-fox")

4. "En face de la vie vécue quel visage honteux

Au fond de la tristesse de plus fin d'année"50

("Faced with past life which shameful face

At the bottom of sorrow more than years' end")

5. "Fragile nuage ciel avec lointain

Longue nuit lune ensemble solitude"51

("Frail cloud sky with far away

Long night moon together solitude")

6. "Bois antique nulle trace sentier

Montagne profonde où donc cloche" 52

("Old wood nil trace pathway

Deep mountain where so bell")

7. "Une fois quitter Terrasse Pourpre à même désert dordique,

Seul demeurer Tombeau Bleu vers crépuscule jaune" 53

("One leaving Purple Terrace straight to nordic desert,

Lonesome living Blue Tomb towards yellow crepuscule")

§7.

The most immediate consequence of these ellipses is the relaxation of syntactical constraints, reduced to a few minimal rules. If the longest metric verses are nearer the wen-yen (written prose), the short pentasyllabic verses only usually follow two constant rules: in a syntagma, the determinative precedes the determined; in a phrase where the predicated corresponds to a transitive verb the following order should be respected: Noun [N] + verb [V] + object [0]. Let us point out the primordial role played by the rhythm, which indicates the regroupment of words. Among words, the nouns and the verbs (action verbs and qualifying verbs) as well as a number of adverbs, acquire a great mobility of combination. Because of their concision the pentasyllabic verses sometimes present themselves as an 'oscillation' between the nominal and the verbal (certain combinations being predictable: before the caesura, NN, NV, VV, VN; and after the caesura, NVN, NNV, VNV, VNN). Moroever, this 'oscillation' can be frequently observed within words. And words being invariable, their nature is not morphologically indicated, even if in normal language their usage ascribes them a defined classification. In the construction of a phrase, the nature of a word is determined by the elements which surround it (prepositions, conjunctions, particles, etc.) and the absence of these elements makes the identification of the construction frequently more complex. This comes to the encounter of the poet's intentions for whom, in a 'full' word, the nominal and the verbal are two stages virtually present. It is for this reason that words of an ambivalent nature, when placed in direct contact, confer to the verse a promissory potential and a powerful emotional charge.

Having in mind all the points argued during this chapter we can now affirm that the Chinese poet, by a reduction procedure, seeks not to simplify language to the upmost but to multiply the nominal-verbal possibilities and to introduce in language an implicit dimension, which is 'emptiness'. On both axis, the paradigmatic and the syntomatic, 'emptiness' (created by the suppression of the personal pronouns, 'empty words' and even verbs, and by the re-utilization of certain 'empty-words' instead of verbs) provokes complex substitution () and combination (-----)relationships which we will try to represent by the following diagram (p.30).

HAN YU 韓愈 (AD°768-†824). Alias: Tui Zhi 退之. Born in Nanyang· [city], Zhengzhou· [provincial capital]. Prominent writer of the Tang dynasty. LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

The apparently static pattern of this representation should not make one forget that we are in the presence of a dynamic language whose composing elements are mutually implicated. An exploded language which proposes again the relationship between the oral and the non-oral, between action and non-action, and, by consequence, between the subject and the object. For the poets, this unique language articulated by 'emptiness', is [the source] able to provoke the word - receptacle of the 'flow'-, and thus, through that, trans-write the inexpressible. It is now convenient to once again remember the importance of the notion of 'emptiness' in Chinese aesthetic thought. Mankind in possession of a dimension of 'emptiness' suppresses distance with external elements; the secret relation which extracts from things being the same that mankind itself has with things. Instead of using a descriptive language, the poet proceeds through an 'internal representation', leaving the words to become fully articulate in their capabilities. Thanks to 'emptiness', in a discourse, signs liberated to a certain degree from the rigid and uni-dimensional syntactical constraints, finding again their essential nature of being either particular existence or essences of the beings. During part of the time process, words stand therefore as if outside of time. When the poet makes reference to 'a tree', he mentions not only 'that particular tree' but also 'Tree' as an essence. Furthermore, signs become multi-directional in their relations with other signs, and it is through these relations that the subject emerges, concomitantly absent but also 'profoundly present'.

In this way the 'objective discourse' and the 'personal discourse' coincide, thus making the inside and the outside of the same discourse. The result of this is a mobile language, entirely in movement by the rhythm (which plays the same role as the ch'i-yün·, the 'rhythmic flow' of painting), a rhythm which is not delimited to the phonal level, but which rules Nature and the meaning of words. Being part of a consonant festivity, where dance and music reenact their immemorial secrets, signs become liberated from a codified relationship and establish between themselves a free communion. Unleashed speech opens to 'improvisation'; at each turn new directions can be found. Without committing themselves to a gratuitous game, poets have composed poems of extreme beauty called hui-wen-shih· ('poems of repeated reading') which can be interpreted differently according to different insights. The most simple is a kind of poem which can be read in the normal way and in an exactly inverse way. Starting at the end: "Parfum lotus émeraude eau agiter vent frais Eau agiter vent frais été journée longue Longue journée été frais vent agiter eau Frais vent agiter eau émeraude lotus parfum" ("Perfume lotus emerald water move wind fresh Water agitate wind fresh summer day long Long day summer fresh agitate water Fresh wind agitate water emerald lotus perfume") This type of versification became possible exactly because of the reduction of the syntactic rules and the disappearance of the 'empty words'. The words only expose their true nature in relation to the place they occupy in the phrase; they acquire a function according to a certain order; if this order is reversed than they acquire another function. In the above quoted poem, from the succession of the words, following each other, there can be extracted, according to either a normal or a reversed reading, very precise meanings: PERFUME LOTUS

PERFUME LOTUS    

 = PERFUMED LOTUS

LOTUS PERFUME    

 = THE LOTUS ARE PERFUMED

FRESH WIND       

 = WIND FRESH

WIND FRESH       

 = THE WIND IS FRESH

AGITATE WATER    

 = THE WATER IS BECOMING

 

     AGITATED

WIND AGITATE WATER

 = THE WIND AGITATES THE

                     

     WATER

 

And the verses of the poem (in their two directions) can be translated as follows: "Over the emerald water, among the perfumed lotus, a fresh wind gathers / the water becomes agitated, the wind brings the freshness, the summer day is long / A long day, the summer is fresh, the wind agitates the water / A fresh wind agitates the water, the green lotus exhale their perfume." Other poems, more elaborate, constitute true labyrinths of signs where from, regardless of its starting point, one can initiate a different itinerary offering novelties full of surprises. We will just reproduce here an example, leaving to the author his abilities to become lost and to find a way in again. Shih-ching (Book of Songs) and the Ch'u-tz'u· (Odes of Ch 'u). The Shih-ching, dating from the first half of the first millennium BC, is a collection of ritual and popular songs developed in an already agrarian society. These songs, whose themes are repeatedly the labours in the fields, the sadness and joys of love, the seasonal festivities, and the rites and sacrifices, impress by their sober and regular rhythm their versification, being mostly in quaternary metrics. The Ch'u-tz'u appears later, during the fourth century BC (during the Warring States· period -475-221BC) in the region of the Blue river [Yangtze]· which, in that time was still outside the Chinese civilization as such. Its poetry contrasts with that of the Shih-ching not only by its contents but also by its form. Of Shamanic inspiration and Canonical style, with an overflowing of floral and herbaceous symbolism with erotic and magic connotations, its verses are irregular in length: usually two verses of six feet linked by a syllable of hsi· measure. This was the genre mainly adopted by future poets as a source of their inspiration for the expression of the phantoms of their imagination. Under the Han (206BC- AD219) The continuation of the tradition of the Shih-ching being discontinued, the literati poets converged their efforts to the elaboration of fu· ('rhythmic prose') while the popular songs were considered as honourable compositions by the Music Conservatory yüeh-fu· -founded by the Wu· emperor, around AD 120 - who was charged to compile them. These songs, of a more spontaneous lyricism and with a freer form of expression, were gradually to become influential among the poets. Also, from the early Han to the T'ang, there is a parallel development of a popular poetry and an erudite poetry both complying with pentasyllabic metrics. During the periods which came after the Han: the Three Kingdoms· (AD220-280), the Eastern and Western Chin· (AD265-419) and the Northern and Southern dynasties (AD420-589), besides popular poetry in continuous evolution, several generations of poets produced works of great value, paving the way to the poetry of the T'ang (AD618-906). During this long period new poetical forms rapidly expanded: quartrains, heptasyllabic poems, long narrative poems, etc. During the early T'ang, as aconsequence of the high degree of sophistication reached by formal researches and also because of the criteria set by the imperial examination system, all the used genres were listed and codified. This fixation of forms within synchrony is an important event. In the conscience of a T'ang poet, the entirety of the forms enabled him to value the multiple registers of his sensibility, constituting a coherent system in which he placed some in relationship to others. There is a first distinction of the chin-t'i-shih· ('modern style poetry'), ruled by the strict norms of prosody, and the ku-t'i-shih ('ancient style poetry'), which is signalled by the lack of restrictions, or more frequently, by the intentional and formal distortion of such rules. Within the ku-t'i-shih· there are two currents, one popular: yüeh-fu, and the other erudite: ku-feng· which feed on each other. Regarding the 'modern style poetry' the most important firm is the lü-shih (regular octet). It is in relation to the lu-shih that are defined the chueh-chü· (quartrain) which might considered as an amputated lu-shih, as well as the ch'ang-lü· (a long lü-shih) which, as the name states is a prolonged lü-shih with multiple strophes. Together with these two genres we should also mentioned a type of sung poetry intimately linked to music, the tz'u· which appears during the late T'ang and becoming popular during the following dynasty of the Song. lü-shih is composed of two quartrains and each quartrain by a distich. Here the distich is the basic unity. Of the four of which a lü-shih is composed, the second and the third must be formed by 'parallel' verses, and the first and the last by 'non-parallel' verses. This contrast between the 'parallel' and the 'non-parallel' verses is characteristic of the lü-shih, a system formed by elements in opposition at all levels (phonal, lexical, syntactical, symbolic, etc.). Among these levels is established a network of correspondences which are mutually supportive and implicated. We will start by the phonal level, successively analyzing its cadence, rhyme, tonal counterpoint and its musical effects. 1.1.1. CADENCE In a lü-shih, a verse can be either pentasyllabic or heptasyllabic: that is to say that a verse can be composed by either five or seven characters, as in Chinese each character invariable corresponds to a syllable (and the words as such, in ancient Chinese, are composed by a single character). In poetry, where the syllable is the basic unity, there is no discrepancy between the level of the signifying and the signified, each syllable always having a meaning. In a pentasyllabic verse the caesura occurs after the second syllable; and after the fourth syllable in a heptasyllabic verse. In both sides of the caesura there is also an opposition in between the even numbers (two and four syllables) and the odd numbers (three syllables), an opposition accentuated by the cadence which, remarkable effect, is iambic before the caesura and trochaic after ('l' = accentuated syllable): PENTASYLLABIC: ○●/●○● HEPTASYLLABIC: ○●○●/●○● This rhythm were the even and odd syllables are in turn accentuated, is made, in a certain way, by clashes. In order to utilize an image, the ceasura is like the wall against which come to crash the rhytmic waves: ○●; to which follows a counterattack provoking a contrary rhythm: ●○● This contrasting prosody provokes the whole dynamic movement of the verse. About the opposition between the even-odd numbers, one must also explain that it is supported by the idea of yin (an even number) and yang (an odd number) whose alternance, as it is known, represents for the Chinese the fundamental rhythm of the universe. Besides the rhythmic function which it fulfills, the caesura also plays a syntactical role54 regrouping the words of a verse in distinct segments which are in opposition and which have inter-relationships of cause and effect. In his poem Printemps catif (Arrested Spring), Tu Fu uses the image of the caesura in order to mark the contrast between certain images: "Pays briser / mont-fleuve-demeurer [...] Regretter temps/fleurs verser larmes" 55 ("Land break / mount-river stay" - the country is in total ruin, but the river and the mountain remain - [...] Regreting time / flowers pouring tears") - regretting the flickering time, even the flowers weep. On the contrary Wang Wei, through caesurae (which suggests emptiness) underlines the subtle links which exist between images apparently independent: "Homme se reposer / fleurs de cannelier tomber Nuit se calmer / mont printanier vide" 56 ("Man rest / cassia flowers fall Night quiet / spring hill empty") 1.1.2. RHYME Regarding rhyme only one important point is to be taken into consideration: except the first verse, which might eventually be considered, rhyme always falls on the 'paired' verses. This implies that the verses which are not 'paired' do not rhyme - this is an important characteristic of Chinese poetry - thus creating an added structural opposition between the 'odd' and the 'even' verses. There is no rhyme changing within a lü-shih; but a single rhyme which goes from a paired verse to another 'paired' verse throughout the poem. We must add that regarding rhyme the poet must choose a word with a 'flat' tone, the longest of the four tones which belong to ancient Chinese language. This brings us directly to another important point of Chinese poetry: the tonal counterpoint. 58 The counterpoint foresees for the pentasyllabic and heptasyllabic lü-shih, alternance schemes between these two types of tones. The poet must choose the word which has a tone which complies with the obligatory rules which are the following (- representing a 'flat' tone and / the 'oblique' tone):59

1. A diagram starting by an 'oblique' tone:

2. There is a variant for the first line of this diagram in the circumstance when the first verse would be the rhyming one. The rhyme being obligatory of a 'flat' tone the first verse would necessarily end by this tone: Each of these diagrams may be taken as an abstract ensemble of signs and be the subject of numerological and permutation games. One should not forget that, according to us, these diagrams are purely used in the service of poetical language; only the circumstances which seem pertinent will be explained. We will take as an example the first diagram (1.) and note two internal divisions which occur in the prosody: Here, in the first distich, after the caesura, the opposition between the two lines is not symmetrical but "reflexive"; complying with R. Jakobson's definition60 the first line figure finds its 'reflection', as in a mirror, in that of the second line. About the third diagram (3.), which starts with a 'flat' tone, in order to get it, it suffices to invert the order of the two distiches which make the first diagram (1.), that is, to start by the second distich of the first diagram (1.) and to end by the first distich of the same. According to these analyses and bearing in mind the constraints imposed by prosody, such as that the cadence of a verse is always based by groups of two syllables plus an isolated syllable, as well as the necessity of the rhyme to be on a 'flat' tone and to fall on an 'even' verse, we can propose an unique diagram61 to represent the four diagrams of variants: Going clockwise in order to find each one of these diagrammatic variants, it is only necessary to start from any of the four given points in the circle indicated by an arrow. In the second diagram (2.) and the fourth diagram (4.), the elements in between parenthesis should be abstracted. Everything happens as if all the network of syllables -it should again be remembered that the syllable is the basic unity of the Chinese language, at the same time phonal and significant -, as to contest them, a disquiet movement would unfold, oscillating from a static or 'stable' pole (the 'flat' tone) to a 'dynamic' pole (the 'oblique' tones). The tonal counterpoint thus constitutes the first of a many multiple levelled system of internal oppositions such as the lü-shih. 1.1.4. MUSICAL EFFECTS Before going into the syntactical aspect of the lü-shih, it remains for us to indicate in a necessarily succint way - the particular musical effects falling into the strict ambit of each of the works -, which are the major phonal values exploited by the poets. In Chinese writing each character having a monosyllabic pronunciation, all syllables are significant and globally the syllables are possible of being inventoried. Certain syllables and, attached to them, certain initial and final consonants, intrinsic to the words they incarnate, have a particularly evokative power. For the initial consonants let us first mention a phonetic figure called shuang-sheng· in the traditional rhetoric: a binomial in which two elements are alliterative, such as fen-fang· ('odoriferous', 'perfumed'). Other examples show a particular use of certain consonants which 'provoke' a whole series of words with a very near meaning: so in the quartrain by Li Bo·, 62 Complainte du perrron de jade (Lament of the Jade Doorsteps), which describes the hopeless night wait of a women in front of her house's "portico" and where the poet uses a sequence of words which successively start with the letter 'l' and signify: roses, tears, coldness, crystal, solitude: Yue chieh sheng pai lu Ye chiu ch'in luo war Ch'ueh hsia shui ching lien Ling-long wang ch 'iu nguat [Wade-Gilles system] Yujie sheng bailu Yejiu qin luowo Quexia shui jing lian Linglong wang qiuyue [Pinyin system] Regarding the finals, we should also mention the phonal figure called tieh-yun, · a binomial whose elements rhyme among themselves as p'ai-huai ('to hesitate'). In a more 'florid' example, the poet Li Yü· uses a sequence of '- an' to reinforce the idea of a tormented obsession and melancholic sighs: Lien-wai yü ts'an -ts'an Ch'un-i l an -s an Luo-chin pu-sheng wu-keng han Mang-li pu-chih sheng shih k'e I-hsiang t'an -huan.63 [Wade-Gilles system] Lianwai yu chan chan Chun yi l an shan Luoqin bunai wugenghan Mengli buzhi sheng shi ke Yishang tanhuan [Pinyin system] The phonal values are not isolated. Frequently they are manifested in opposition. It is thus that in order to mention an example terminating in '- an', which has been mentioned to suggest 'melancholy', contrasting with '- ang', which has a triumphal nuance and evokes feelings of exaltation; as if '- ang' being more 'open' would overpower the incarnate melancholy of '- an'. The poet Han Yu contrasts, in the following verses, feminine tenderness (first and second verses) with male heroism (third and fourth verses): Ni-ni er-nü yu En-yüan hsinan g er-ju Hua-jan pian hsüan - ang Yung-shih fu chan -ch'ang!64 [Wade-Giles system] Nini ernü yu Eryuan xiang er ru Huaran bian xuan'ang Yongshi fu dichang! [Pinyin system] In the same way, for the initial consonants, traditional rhetoric proposes different oppositions: 1. Non-aspirated/aspirated: for example, pao· ('to surround') / p'ao· ('to run away'). 2. K'ai-k'ou· (without a pre-vocalic 'u') / he-k'ou· (with a prevocalic 'u'): so, hai· ('child') / huai· ('holding'). 3. Chien-yin· (non-palatal) / t'uan-yin (palatal): for example, ts'i· ('sadness') / ti· ('dropping'). The poetess Li Ch'ing-chao· (ca 1084- ca 1145), inspired by her research into T'ang poetry, contrasts two types of sounds in one of her famous poems, 65 in order to indicate her sadness when listening to the falling rain. The effect that the tonal opposition produces does not escape to the musical sensitivity of the poet, notably that of the first tone, the most similar to the other four, and the fourth tone, the harsher one. This last one, repeated several times, frequently suggests sobbing or a choking sensation. Tu Fu, in a poem66 which he composed when peace was announced, called on multiple phonal resources (sounds and tones) in order to express his joy, faced with the possibility of returning to his hometown. The last distich "After the gorges of Pa· I will cross the gorges of Wu· / and I will descend towards Hang-yang· in order to reach Luo-yang, · reads when transcribed: Chi ts'ung Pa-hsia ch'uan Wu-hsia Pien hsia Hang-yang hsiang Luo-yang!66 [Wade-Giles system] Ji cong Baxia chuan Wuxia Bian xia Hang yang xiang Luo-yang! [Pinyin system] The first verses contain a series of words with the fourth tone (chi, pa) and 'narrow' vowels such as hsia (gorge, narrow pass), while the second is almost constituted by first tone words and '- ang' finals. The two verses are also 'parallel', word by word. The contrast between the sounds contains a sharp impression of suffocation followed by freedom with irrepressible screaming. 1.1.5. SYNTACTICAL LEVEL ('PARALLEL' VERSES/'NON-PARALLEL' VERSES) On the syntactical level, the most important point is the opposition between 'parallel' verses and 'non-parallel' verses. It was said that, among the four distiches which constituted a lü-shih, that the second and the third must be composed of 'parallel' verses; on the other hand, the last distich is necessarily 'non-parallel' and the first is, in principle, always 'parallel' although, eventually, it may be constituted of 'parallel' verses. So a lü-shih can present itself according to the following progression: → 'parallel' → 'parallel' → 'non-parallel'. In order to apprehend significance within this formal transformation within a lü-shih, one must first of all define what are 'parallel' verses. Linguistic 'parallelism' occupies in China an important place both in literature and in everyday life. This is well testified in the parallel inscriptions on the temples' columns, in the tablets which flank the sides of a house's main door or of a shop's entrance as well as in the tablets of the religious places and festivities. If linguistic parallelism is the reflection of a dualistic life concept its existence is not less linked to the specific nature of the ideograms. On the two verses of a distich can be placed in rigorous symmetry term by term, words which are component of the same grammatical paradigm, either having an opposite meaning (or complementary), as in ancient Chinese each word is constituted by a single character. The two verses which follow, side by side, transmit on aesthetic grounds an undeniable visual beauty. In the preceding chapter, among the quoted verses we have already seen, are multiple examples of 'parallel' verses. Such is the following distich: "Lumière de montagne / jouir humeur des oiseaux Ombre de l'ètang / vider cœur de l'homme"67 ("Light of the mountain / enjoy mood of birds Shadow of the pond / empty heart of mankind") In both verses, from beginning to end, the confronting images are absolutely regular ("Light of the mountain" /"Shadow of the pond"; "Mood of birds" / "heart of mankind"). If, as we have already seen, the distich is open to multiple interpretations it is exactly because the signs in their 'confrontation' maintain subtle and lively relationships without the poet having the necessity to 'compromise' one way or another. Let us quote a few other examples, all from lü-shih of Wang Wei, frequently selected to illustrate the form of 'parallelisms': "Lune claire / parmi les pins luire Source fraîche / sur les rochers couler"68 ("Clear moon / among the pines shine Fresh source / over the rocks flow") With these two verses among which is established a correspondence ("Clear moon""Fresh source"; "pines""rocks"; "shine""flow"), the poet created a total landscape where light and shadow (described in the first verse) respond to the sound and touch (suggested in the second verse). "Immense désert / fumée solitaire droite Long fleuve / soleil couchant rond"69 ("Immense desert / solitary smoke straight Long river / setting sun round") Poet-painter, Wang Wei proposes here a composition where he contrasts different elements of the landscape. This contrast is equally within the structure of each verse (the "desert" which goes on to infinity and the "smoke" which rises "solitary"; the "river" which flows at a distance and the "sun" which disappears in an instant) as well as inbetween two verses (the stillness of the "desert" and the movement of the "river"; the "smoke" which rises and the "sun" which descends; and by association, verticality and roundness; black and red; etc.). "Mouvement du fleuve / par-delà ciel et terre Couleur de montagne / entre être et non-être"70 ("Movement of the river / beyond Heaven and Earth Colour of mountain / between being and non-being") The poet introduces here the idea of a spiritual experience (of Ch'an). Between both verses there is more than contrast, there is a sort of 'transgression'. If in the first verse, following the movement of the "river" one can reach the movement of the cosmos ["Heaven and Earth"], it is in the realm of space; in the second verse, where everything takes the "colour of [the] mountain", there is a subtle transition from "being [to] non-being". All this is obviously not explicitly said but implied by the location of the words in their interrelationship. These three examples are extracts of lü-shih. The final example is that of a quartrain entirely composed of 'parallel' verses, that is, by two 'parallel' distiches (a quartrain, being defined during the T'ang as a half of a lü-shih, being constituted either by two 'parallel' distiches or by two 'nonparallel' distiches or even by a 'parallel' distich and a 'non-parallel' distich): "Soleil blanc /le long des monts disparaître Fleuve jaune / jusqu'à la mer se précipiter (Si) désirer épuiser / vue mille li (Alors) encore monter / d'un étage"71 ("White sun / the length of the mountains disappear Yellow river / towards the sea precipitate (If) desire exhaust / a thousand li sight (Then) still climb / one more level") li sight" - "one more level") and continue ("(If) desire" / "(Then) still climb"), because for the poet what is important is to underline, on one hand, the contrast between the infinite space and the solitary presence of man and, on the other hand, the desire of man to overcome the divisions of the world ("a thousand" in the third verse symbolizes this worldly multiplicity) and to achieve its unity ("one" in the fourth verse symbolizes unity).

The four superimposed verses seem to visually represent a lived circumstance:

During the T'ang the art of 'parallelism' was developed to an extreme refinement, becoming a complex game which calls for all the resources of the language: phonal, graphic, imaginary, idiomatic, etc. But, as we have just seen through the examples, 'parallelism' is not mere repetition. It is a significant form where each of its signs requests its contrary or complement (its 'other'); the ensemble of signs, when in harmony or in opposition, transport meaning. From a linguistic viewpoint one can say that 'parallelism' is an attempt at spatial organization of signs and their temporal unfolding. In a distich there is no prescribed (or logical) progression from one verse to another; both verses expressing without transition between them opposite or complementary ideas. The first verse stops as if suspended in time; the second arrives not to continue the first but to confirm, by the other extreme, the statement expressed in the first, and finally to justify its own existence. These two verses which respond in this manner to each other, make an autonomous ensemble: a universe in itself, stable, submissive to the laws of spatiality and as if detached from the constraints of time. Symmetrically disposing of words belonging to the same paradigm, the poet creates a 'complete' language where two realms are present: the paradigmatic dimension (spatial) not becoming faded during the linear and temporal discourse, as in normal language. This language of double interpretation (one can simultaneously read horizontally and vertically) may be represented by the following diagram: The diagram presents a movement which rotates around itself while, at the same time, opens up to infinity. Each element once appeared is cross-referenced by its contradiction, placed in opposition. A chasing game (or a chase of an 'I' always elusive?) it is alternatively inside and out, within time and out of time. This spatial structure, founded on a reciprocal justification between the two verses enable the poet to shatter, to a certain degree, the linear constraints. Numerous are the examples where the obscurity of a verse is derived from the specific use of words (a noun for a verb, an 'empty' word for a 'full' word, etc.) or a syntactical anomaly, is dissipated by its 'partner'. It is really in the parallelism where the most audacious transgressions can be noted whose consequences go beyond the poetical domain. During the T'ang, the researches of the poets enriched ordinary language, shaking its syntactical structures.72 Through parallelism, the poet creates a particular universe in which he is able to impose another verbal order. 73 This is a universe yet to be achieved. Let us not forget that the lü-shih comprehends not one but two distiches of 'parallel' verses (the second and the third); and that these two distiches are in turn inserted within a linear context, being framed by 'non-parallel' distiches (the first and the fourth). So, the meaning of the 'parallel' distich, whose structure we have just analyzed does not exclusively derive from its existence; it is linked to a dialectical system founded on spatiality and temporality and implying an internal transformation. If parallelism is characterized by its internal nature, the 'parallel' verses which respect normal syntax are submitted to the temporal law. The composition of a lü-shih is traditionally organized the following way: 'non-parallel' distiches (the first and the fourth) assure the linear development and deal with temporal themes; they constitute at both extremes of the poem 'discontinued' significants. Within this linearity a spatial order is introduced in the other two distiches (the second and the third). If 'linearity' is understood in two tempi, the 'spatiality', represented by the two distiches also comprehends two stages. Aiming at the explosion of the normal progression of events, the poet introduces by affirmation (second distich) in this new dimension an order in which the opposite or complementary events are face-to-face and constitute an autonomous ensemble. Nonetheless, this order is not static: in the third distich, equally composed of 'parallel' verses, it is reaffirmed, but it suffers a change as if being consecutive to a new order, another relationship between things being born, the relationship that the poet decides to explore in depth in order to capture the 'dynamic laws'. This internal transformation between both 'parallel' distiches is noticeable not only at its contextual level but at its syntactical level as well. In effect, it is a rule that the two distiches are a compound of phrases of two different syntactical types and that, furthermore, this difference is based on a derivative, that is, that syntactically, the third distich is to be derived from the second.

Within the reasoning, the lü-shih presents itself as the representation of dialectical thought. A drama in four acts seems to unfold in front of the reader, a drama whose development obeys the 'dynamic law' of space-time:

Or, re-using the diagram in page 40, which represents the 'parallelism' as a self-unfolding system, it can be said that this system is crossed by the temporal unfolding which precedes its explosion: lü-shih by a 'parallel' distich, in order to assert a spatial order right to the end. The Tu Fu poem En apprenant que l'armée impériale a repris le Ho-nan et le Ho-pei (Learning that the Imperial Army reconquered Henan and Hebei), 74 is composed of three successive 'parallel' distiches, the last distich, anticipating the return voyage of the poet in the company of his friends, is a distended state of euphoria. 1.1.8. EXAMPLES After observing all the implications of the lü-shih, we propose the complete analysis of two lü-shih: 
    TU FU 杜甫

    "Sites anciens

    Multiples montagnes dix mille vallées / parvenir Ching-men
    Naître grandir Dame Lumineuse / encore y avoir village 

    Une fois quitter Terrace Pourpre / à même désert nordique
    Seul demeurer Tombeau Vert / face au crépuscule jaune 

    Tableau peint mal reconnaitre / brise printannière visage
    Amulettes de jade en vain retourner / nuitlunaire âme 

    Mille années p'i p'a / chargé d'accent barbares
    Clairs-distincts griefs regrets / en son chant résonner"75

    ("Ancient sites 

    Multiple mountains ten thousand valleys /reach Ching-men·
    Born grow Luminous Lady / still village there

    Once leave Purple Terrace / straight to nordic desert 
    Lonely rest Green Tomb / face on yellow crepuscule

    Painted picture recognize bad / spring breeze face 
    Jade amulets in vain return / moon light soul

    Thousand years p'i p'a· / loaded barbarian tones 
    Bright-clear sorrows grievances / in his song resound")
This poem evokes the well-known story of a famous Han courtesan, during the reign of the Yüan-ti. · This lady was also known by her maiden name, Wang Chao-chün· and her title was that of Ming-fei· (Luminous Lady). Legend says that after seeing her portrait by the court official painter, the emperor granted her many favours. Besides her scheming character and her great beauty, Wang Chao-chün bribed the painter Mao Yen-shou· in order to get from him a flattering portrait - as it was practice by most of the other courtesans. She had never been in the emperor's presence. In fact, the emperor used the painting to offer her as an alliance gift to a barbarian chief to whom he had promised a wife. It was only at the moment when this 'princess' - the Luminous Lady - was presented to the envoy of the barbarian chief that the emperor saw her for the first time, being immediately captivated by her astonishing beauty. But, despite his wishes, it was no longer possible for him to annul what he had ordered. What the poet captures in the poem, besides the idea of a contradicted destiny, is the human frailty in contrast to hostile nature, and through this confrontation, the communion with another universe, where sorrow and wonder are mingled. The beginning and the end of the poem (first and fourth distiches) are a chronological unfolding of the heroine's life. The first distich retraces her life as a young girl in her home village, while the last, suggests posthumous life, her metamorphosed existence being perpetuated through time. The linear connection is underlined by the expression "ten thousand valleys", in the first verse, which is retaken in the echo of "Thousand years" of the penultimate verse. The two central distiches (second and third), composed of 'parallel' verses, 'capture' through some impressive images the 'tragic' situation which determined the end of Ming-fei. These images confront each other, are in opposition, and in permutation. Between these two distiches exists a relationship of transformation (static → dynamic). B, in a continuous back-and-forth relationship. This gives rise to a double reading:

"Dans le tintement de jade, on retrouve l'âme de la Dame Lumineuse"or,

"La Dame Lumineuse fait tinter encore ses amulettes de jade"

("The soul of the Luminous Lady is contained in the jingling of jade") or,

("The Luminous Lady still jingles her jade amulets")

As a corollary to the syntactical transformation which took place between the two 'parallel' distiches (second and third), also the organization of the images follows a process of transformation. In the second distich, the four depicted elements: "Purple Terrace" (i. e., royal palace), "nordic desert", "Green Tomb" (it is said that the tomb of Wang Chao-chün, lost in the desert, remains forever green), and "yellow crepuscule" are at the same time in opposition as well as in harmony among themselves and together constitute a the opening 'picture' of the third distich which starts exactly by the word "picture". The decisive role played by a picture in the life of Wang Chao-chün is ironic in that instead of being an artificial picture her life really became the emblem of a golden legend. With the help of other conventional images ("spring breeze" (i. e., woman's face), "jade amulets" (i. e., woman's presence), and "moon soul" (i. e., the Goddess Chang-O trapped in the moon), all composed of attributes related to Nature, the poet subtly integrates the Luminous Lady in a universe full of solitary grandeur, a mixture of reality and surreality. So, present and past, here and there, are figuratively mixed in a dynamic space which refuses to comply to the inexorable passing of time.

Nonetheless, the last distich reintroduces the idea of time. But finally, be it life or time, which of the two comes out the winner? The more time flows, the more life is metamorphosed. Even "sorrow" and hate became diluted in the "song" (during her life among the barbarians Wang Chao-chün became an excellent player of "p'i p'a", an instrument originally from central Asia), whose echoes reach the present. 

    TS'UI HAO 崔顥

    "Le pavillon de la grue jaune

    Les Ancients déjà chevauchant / Grue Jaune partir 

    Ce lieu conserver vide / Grue Jaune pavillon 

    Grue Jaune une fois partie / plus jamais ne revenir
    Nuages blancs mille ans / planant lointains-paisables 

    Rivière ensoileillée claire-distincte / Han-yang arbres
    Herbe parfumée abondante-touffue / Île aux perroquets 

    Soleil couchant Pays d'origine / où donc se trouver
    Sur le Fleuve vagues brumeuses / à l'homme infinie tristesse"76

    ("The Yellow Crane Pavilion 

    The elder already galloping / Yellow Crane leave 
    This place remaining empty / Yellow Crane pavilion

    Yellow Crane once departed / never again return
    White clouds one thousand years / gliding faraway [peacefully]-peacefully
    Sun drenched river clear [distinct]-distinct / Hang-yang· trees
    Perfumed grass abundant-dense / Parrots island

    Setting sun land of origins / where then to be
    Over the river misty waves / to men infinite sadness")

The Yellow Crane pavilion is a famous place built on a promontory over the Yangtze river, in the present-day province of Hu-pei. · From this pavilion there is a magnificent panoramic view of the river flowing towards the sea. Since ancient times this place has fascinated the poets, many having composed farewell poems on the spot. There are plenty of anecdotes on this subject and a particular one about this specific poem. It is said that one day Li Po went to the pavilion and felt inspired to compose a poem about the magnificence of the view. He was just about to start when he noticed a poem written on a wall. It was exactly this one by Ts'ui Hao. After reading it he exclaimed: - "I will never be able to outdo it!" and, unconsoled he threw away his brush. Frustrated by the event Li Po always, looked for the opportunity to write a poem in another inspirational place, a poem as excellent as that one by Ts'ui Hao. The occasion presented itself in Nanking· where he wrote an extremely beautiful lü-shih entitled Terrasse du Phénix (The Terrace of the Phoenix).

But, to come back to the poem, we have said that the parallelism appears to be tolerated by the rule after the first distich; however it is not complete neither by this one nor for the following distich in the sense that the verses in the two distiches are 'non-parallel' beyond the section preceding the caesura. The poet seems to desire to accentuate right from the beginning the contrast between a 'human' level and that of the 'beyond'. The incompleteness of the parallelism seems to signify that the two levels are in an unequal parallelism. On one side, there is a 'celestial' order with its inaccessible splendour ("white clouds") and on another side there is a 'human' level devoid exactly of that spendour which had once been within its realm. In the first quartrain constituted by these two distiches, the image of the "Yellow Crane" appears three times, a fact so impressive that, in principle, repetition of words is usually prescribed in lü-shih. It is noticeable that in these three circumstances this is a shift in meaning which reflects a theme in transformation:

1. A vehicle which enables to reach the 'beyond' (according to Taoist myth),

2. An 'empty' noun onto which hangs the human world, and

OUYANG XIU 歐陽修 (°1007 -†1072). Alias: Yong Shu 永叔. Born in Luling. · Famous literati of the Northern Song· (960-1127) dynasty. LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

3. A symbol of lost immortality.

This image of the "Yellow Crane" gives rise to that of the "White clouds" (contrast between the movement of the bird and the 'freedom' of the clouds; and a contrast of colours as well). The "White clouds" can be interpreted by a multitude of meanings, notably that of dreaming, separation, and vanity of worldly belongings. The "Yellow Crane" being absent, all that remains is an abandoned world, a shattered world, where all desires are annihilated from inception. The word k'ung· ('empty', 'vain') appears twice, in the second and fourth verses.

Nevertheless, a consolation subsists: that of the present world which remains in space (a space which still warms under the solar reflections). This idea of a life form survives despite the contrary forces of time, being reflected on the syntactical level.

One must emphasize that the third distich retakes the type of phrase of the fourth verse, slightly changing it. The phrase of the fourth verse may be thus analyzed: 

       THEME                     TIME COMPLEMENT                INTENSIFIED QUALIFICATIVES                                               
"WHITE CLOUDS"       "ONE THOUSAND YEARS"          [PEACEFULLY] "PEACEFULLY"

In the fifth and sixth verses the section before the caesura is constituted by the same type of phrase, less the time complement: 

           THEME           INTENSIFIED QUALIFICATIVES
    "SUN DRENCHED RIVER"      [DISTINCT] "DISTINCT"
      "PERFUMED GRASS"           [DENSE] "DENSE"

This phrase constituted by a nominal form and an intensified qualititive (and three times repeated in the fourth, fifth and sixth verses) reinforces the idea of a lasting state of things.

Regarding the section after the caesura of verses five and six, it is made by a unique nominal form "Hang-yang trees" and "Parrots island". A static scene; verbal forms such as, for instance, "drifting along the" (in the fifth verse) and "growing over" (in the sixth verse) being omitted.

The living nature which describes the section before the caesura seems to abruptly arrive at a fixed image. "Hang-yang" (the town on the other side of the river) and the "Parrot island" (at the centre of the river) are names of places. Their introduction, be it circumstantial, also has a certain symbolic charge. The 'yang' of "Han-yang" is indeed the same word that designates one of the principles of the yin-yang duality, the principle of active life. The name 'Han-yang' (meaning,'the yang side of the river Han') evokes a world in activity, still in the dawn of creation. On the other hand, the "Parrots" send back one's thoughts to the intensified "Yellow Crane", at the beginning of the poem. After the vanishing of the immortal bird, the world is only inhabited by ornamental and imitating birds. Birds which are only able to repeat, to exhaustion, words learnt from somewhere else.

To exhaustion? But suddenly we are already in the last distich. It reminds one of the kingdom of Time, suggested since the beginning of the poem("The elder"). This time which power has never effectively ceased to be exerted over being only once instantly denied. The "Setting sun" precludes the arrival of the yin principle. From the syntactical viewpoint, the phrases return to the 'spoken' style, confirmed by expressions such as "where then to be" (seventh verse) and "in such way as" (not translated in the eight verse, after the caesura). They recapture the linear thread of the discourse, albeit an open discourse. The final interrogation determines an irrepressible nostalgia. The "misty waves" which cover and confound all inspire to man a sentiment of sadness as well as transmit to him the illusion of enabling him to return to his place of origin.

1.2. THE KU-T'I-SHIH·

The analysis of the active procedures by which the Chinese poet elaborates a poetical language could end here. Nonetheless, as to return to the beginning of this chapter where we presented the ensemble of the poetical forms, we will briefly draw attention to another poetical form which is in total contrast to the elegant order of the lü-shih: the ku-t'i-shih ('ancient style poetry'). We must explain that it is not intended here to study the ku-t'i-shih as a specific form. I must be once again reminded that this form is the opposite of the chin-t'i-shih ('modem style poetry'), of which the lü-shih is the most representative form by its lack of constraints, its faster pace and, frequently, its more epic dimension. It would be interesting to give in the sequence of the lü-shih examples, a concrete example 'ancient style poetry' not only to show their opposite points but also the correlation between the two forms, as they were used during the T'ang. The selected example is a narrative poem by Tu Fu, a poet whose examples have already been analyze in our study of the lü-shih. This poet, traditionally considered as the supreme master of lü-shih, was equally brilliant in composing in the 'ancient style' (Li Po, Li Ho, · and Po Chü-i· being the other great masters of this genre). With Tu Fu, the selection of certain forms had profound significance. Tu Fu lived during the most prosperous years of the T'ang era which saw the flourishing of a whole plethora of poets of genius. This prosperity was to have an abrupt end with the An Lushan rebellion. This rebellion, which precipitated in China a tremendous tragedy, profoundly changed the lives of the poets, either as testimonies or as victims. Tu Fu was first exiled and then made a prisoner of the rebels. During the rebellion years and in the period immediately after he composed - as it was justly pointed out by Arthur Waley - a series of 'poems in the ancient style', works in a vehemently strong tone where he described scenes of great tragedy and exposed the injustices of war.

In relation to the lü-shih which he had previously composed within an exemplary rigorous structure, these poems are like a series of frightening outbursts. Rupture with society is expressed in the following poem through structural disintegration: 

    TU FU 杜甫

    "Le recruteur de Shih-hao

    Au soir descendre village de Shih-hao
    Y avoir recruteur nuitamment saisir homme 

    Vieil homme escalader mur s'enfuir
    Vieille femme franchir porte s'énquerir 

    Officier invectiver ah combien coléreux
    Femme pleurer ah combien amère 

    Entendre femme avancer présenter parole: 
    "Trois fils pour la défense de Ye-ch 'eng 

    Un fils dejá message faire parvenir
    Deux fils récemment au combat mourir 

    Le survivant en attendant tenter survivre
    Les morts à jamais morts demeurer 

    À la maison plus il n 'y a personne
    Seul y avoir sous le sein un petit-fils 

    A cause du bébé mère n'être pas partie
    Sortir entrer sans une jupe entière 

    Vieille femme bien que force en déclin
    Demander suivre nuitament retourner 

    En hâte répondre à la corvée de Ho-yang
    Encore capable préparer repas du matin "

    Nuit tardive bruits de voix cesser
    Comme entendre échos de sanglots réprimés 

    Aube pointer monter grande route
    Seul au vieillard dire adieu"77

    (" The recruiter of Shih-hao· 

    In the evening arrive village of Shih-hao
    There was recruiter get man during night

    Old man climb wall and escape
    Old woman open door inquire

    Officer hurl abuse oh how choleric
    Woman cry oh how bitter

    Listen woman come forward addressing him: 
    "Three sons for the defense of Ye-ch'eng·

    One son already message sent reached
    Two sons recently in battle die

    The one who survived meanwhile tries to survive 
    Those dead will remain dead forever

    At home there is no one anymore
    Only there is under the breast only a grandson

    Because of baby mother did not leave
    Go out come in without a full skirt

    Old woman although declining 
    Ask follow officer during night return

    In haste reply to the Ho-yang· drudgery
    Still able to prepare morning meal"

    Late night noise of voices cease
    How to understand echoes of repressed sobs

    Daybreak leaving along long road
    Only to the old man say farewell")

From a formal viewpoint, this poem although basically complying with the 'ancient style' form contains traces of the 'modern style' poetry, more specifically concerning the use of parallelism (broadly speaking), which starts in the second distich and continues until the middle of the poem. The whole poem, which is in fact a series of 'parallel' distiches framed by 'non-parallel' distiches, resembles an expanded lü-shih, deformed and somehow dismembered.

SU SHI 蘇軾 (°1036-†1101). Alias: Su Dongpo 蘇東坡. Great poet and literati of the Northern Song dynasty. LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

Within the progression of the poem, composed of twelve distiches, we propose a severance after the sixth distich, thus dividing the poem into two equal sections. This severance is justified not only in view of the contents of the poem but also by formal reasons. In the first section (first to sixth distiches), the "Old woman" tries to confront a recruiting "Officer" invoking that "Three [of her] sons" already left to defend Ye-ch'eng and explaining that two of them had consequently died ["dead forever"]. The poet uses a series of 'parallel' verses, in order to emphasize the woman's attempt to resist a menacing order. The 'parallelism' 'collapses' and loses its 'equilibrium' in the seventh distich (in order to complete it, something should be added like: "At home there is no one anymore / Only there is at the breast only a grandson"). In effect, it is from this distich onwards that the "Old woman", faced with the intransigence of the "Officer", engages herself in an implacable 'substitution' process. Who must leave replacing whom? If the "Old man" got away with it (as the "recruiter" looks, in principle, for young men), there is nobody else in the house except her, the daughter-in-law and the "grandson". We must draw the attention to the 'trick' of the plaintiff "Old woman" in order to save her daughter-in-law: first (seventh distich) she says there is nobody else in the house, except... a baby who needs to be breast-fed (lit.: "under the breast") before revealing the existence of the "baby's mother", but without forgetting to immediately add that she is not presentable, because she does not even have a "full [length] skirt" to wear. In the following distiches (ninth and tenth) the mood of the poem changes and its pace gets faster. Suddenly a discourse ensues on the first singular person ('I') as the "Old woman" decide to go, instead of letting go of one of the others, offering to go with the "Officer". From now onwards all unfolds in an inexorable way. The tenth distich still expresses a faint echo of a 'parallelism' of lost 'equilibrium'; it is exactly here where the "Old woman" reinforces her merits arguing that she would be able to "prepare [the soldiers'] meals". Was she going to be able to convince the "Officer" that it would to be advantage to take a woman with him and even better an "Old woman"? The outcome is only apparent in the very last verse where the poet says that, the following morning, he salutes the "old man [...] farewell" leaving him on his own.

On the narrative level, the poet presents himself as an oral testimony which later enabled him to literally describe the evolution of the events. He is not a mere 'spectator' who stands before a situation; and this is explicated by the way the "Old woman"'s recalcitrance through which is unfolded the whole drama becomes indistinguishable from the poet as narrator. The suspense of the poem lies in this ambiguity. In the penultimate verse, it is questionable who takes the "road"; the "Old woman" or the poet? If the woman managed to go, substituting herself for one of the others, the poet, in his turn, managed to take the place of the "Old woman" (who left without seeing her husband again) in saying farewell to the "old man".

Ⅲ THE IMAGES

§1.

In the previous two chapters we have extricated the fundamental structures of Chinese poetical language. These structures, significant in themselves, do not represent ends by themselves. Breaking through ordinary language, introducing in it other forms of opposition, they strain to reach a higher level (or more profound): that of the images and their representation. Nonetheless we must make it clear that these are not elements which crown a pre-established language. They are at the basis of this language and actively participate in its constitution. During our analysis we already have several times sought a platform of images in order to emphasise a number of points in the structure. In reality, the symbolic images loaded with subjective contents are those which allowed, in a verse, the suppression of certain linking or narrative elements and, in so doing, a whole structural economy which we have already analyzed. To consecrate one last chapter to the images is therefore to place oneself on a synthetic platform and to globally observe the functioning of Chinese poetical language.

What strikes the reader right from the start in Chinese poetry is the abundance of metaphors and symbolic imagery. 78 Already, in ordinary language, one can verify the abundance of metaphorical expressions indiscriminately used by the Chinese, even to express abstract notions. One of its causes is the nature of writing in itself. It has been shown in the Introduction that the ensemble of the ideograms, by the link that they maintain with matter and among themselves, constitutes a metaphorical-metonimic system. To a certain point, each ideogram is a potential metaphor. This fact has favoured in the language the formation of numerous metaphorical expressions and the morphological structure of ideograms still pre-ordered by them: each ideogram being invariable and constituting a unity, enjoying a great freedom in comparison with other ideograms. The coming together of two or more between them (or of the images they convey) frequently offers a striking contrast and creates far-reaching connotations, better that any denoting language.

HUANG TINGJIAN 黃庭堅 (°1045-†1105). Aliases: Lu Zhi 魯直, Shangu Daoren 山谷道人. LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

Following are some examples of metaphorical 'figurations' which are frequent in language:

1. IDEOGRAMS (OR CHARACTERS) COMPOSED BY TWO ELEMENTS: 

    HEART 心 + AUTUMN 秋 = 愁   MELANCHOLY, SADNESS
    HEART 心 + MILIEU 中 = 忠  LOYALTY, TO BE LOYAL
    MAN   亻 + TREE   木 = 休     TO REST. TO RELAX
    MAN   亻 + WORD   言 = 信  CONFIDENCE. FIDELITY

2. TERMS COMPOSED BY TWO CHARACTERS CREATING METAPHORS: 

    SKY   天 + EARTH  地 = 天地                UNIVERSE
    DRUM  鼓 + DANCE  舞 = 鼓舞 TO ENCOURAGE, TO INCITE
    SPEAR 矛 + SHIELD 盾 = 矛盾           CONTRADICTION
    HAN   手 + FOOT   足 = 手足       BROTHERLY FEELING

3. SYNTAGMS CREATING SYMBOLIC EXPRESSIONS: 

    RED DUST                    = 红麈        THINGS OF THIS WORLD, 
                                                THE VANITY OF GLORY
    SPRING WIND                 = 春風        SUCCESS, SATISFACTION
    GREEN PINE, STRAIGHT BAMBOO = 青松            RECTITUDE, PURITY
    WATERS EASTWARD FLOWING     = 流水          THE PASSING OF TIME
    WILD GOOSE WESTWARD FLYING  = 飛雁           SEPARATION, REGRET
    FULL MOON                   = 滿月  REUNION OF SEPARATED BEINGS

Poets commonly use these evocative figurations. But in reality, it is in poetry that one must search for their origins. Poetical language and ordinary language are mutually intertwined; and if this fact can be said to be correct for all languages on earth, it acquires an extremely particular meaning regarding Chinese culture. Since its origins, poetry has exerted a sacred function, controlling the rites. It was fundamental to all festivities and all celebrations, and was present in all social exchanges. No banquet, excursion or meeting between friends was held without ending with the composition of poems by each of the participants or about a rhyme generally unanimously selected.

Moreover, since the T'ang poetical composition has been part of the official examinations' program. Thus poetry became a major activity in Chinese society. It was poetry which donated language with metaphorical figurations organizing them in a vast compound of structured symbols. It was thanks to this that Nature as a whole was inventoried, names being given to things and thus tamed.

In this way it is possible to consider Chinese poetry as a successive integration, as a common popular fund gradually enriched by the poets' contributions throughout its long history (uninterruptedly for thirty centuries) thus constituting a colossal collective mythology. Through this network of symbols the poet attempted to break the closed circuit and to establish a new relationship among signs and things by a game of analogies and internal relations.

However, it can be asked if such an ensemble of conventional and codified symbols does not reduce poetry to an academism based on clichés, to the detriment of a creation of personal figurations. This danger certainly exists (although, regarding this last point, we were able to ascertain that thanks to a graphic and phonal game, the possibility of creating personal figurations was still quite vast). We feel our competence to pronounce judgment on this subject. We will satisfy ourselves to observe how a poet, in his best works, takes full advantage of what is being offered to him by a signficative system, immediately situated at a metaphorical level.

§2. DATA

In a poem entitled Nuit de lune (Night of the Moon), Tu Fu, while prisoner at Ch'ang-an (capital of the T'ang) during the An Lu-shan rebellion, evoked the memories of a distant woman, and imagined her dreaming for a long time under the moon. These are some of the poem's verses:

"Parfumée brume / chignon de nuage mouillé

Pure clarté / bras de jade fraîchi" 79

("Perfumed mist / wet chignon of clouds

Pure brightness / freshened arm of jade")

The images "chignon of clouds" and "arm of jade" are conventional terminologies. In poetical tradition, it is common to compare them, the 'vaporousness' and 'lightness' of a woman being associated with the concept of a group of clouds; the same way the 'memory' of jade is apt to describe the 'pale' and 'smooth' complexion of a woman's arms. These images have been so much used that they have become quasi banal. However, here because of the other images which accompany them, they seem original and essential. In the first verse "chignon of clouds" is associated with "Perfumed mist"; both images containing atmospheric elements. Their common nature gives the impression that the second idea derived from the first. The verb 'to wet' conveniently links both sections of the verse confusing them into an indistinct unity. In the same way, in the second verse, the image of "arms of jade" is naturally connected with "Pure brightness"; that brightness projected by the moon can be conceived as an emanation of the naked arms of a woman. The verb 'to freshen' evokes a night of full moon and equally seems to describe the sensation when one has beentouching a piece of jade. So, conventional metaphors not only do not automatically reduced verses to clichés, but also allow them to create internal and essential links between images and to sustain them as such, from one end to the other, on a metaphorical level.

Tu Fu is the master of associating 'ready made' images in order to produce effects at the same time logical and unexpected. In other extremely famous verses by him, he exposes social injustice, describing the inequality which separates the life of the rich from that of the poor. He places in opposition images frequently used in a conventional way:

"Portes rouges / vin-viande putréfiés

Chemins parsemés / geler-mourir ossements"80

("Red doors / wine-meat putrefact

Scattered roads / freeze-die bones")

"RED DOORS" = rich households;

"WINE-MEAT" = expensive maid, party;

"ROADS" = without home, errant; and

'WHITE' "BONES" = unburied dead.

The first verse describes the luxurious lifestyle of the rich households ("Red doors") where there is so much meat that it gets rotten after the parties. The second verse speaks about the poor, dying of hunger and cold on the roads. Rather than using self-evident words such as 'rich households', 'party', 'without shelter', 'abandoned dead', the poet used a sequence of banal metaphors from ordinary language. First of all one is hit by the contrasting images of the two verses: "red doors" and frozen "roads" opposing each other in an internal-external relationship, while "meat" and "bones" subscribe to a life-death relationship. Finally, the two verses in their entirety are in total opposition, through their contrasting colours: "Red" and 'white'. Then, attention is drawn to the link between the images: the image of the "Red doors" entails that of the "meat" soaked in blood: the "meat" that rots seems to be none other than the 'flesh' of the poors in decomposition (in Chinese the same words means: 'meat' and 'skin').

QIN GUAN 秦觀(°1049-†1100). Aliases: Shao You 少游,Tai Xu 太虚, Huai Hai 淮海. Devotee. Famous ci poet of the Northern Song dynasty. LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

"RED DOORS" → → RED BLOOD OF "MEAT" → → ROTTEN

"MEAT" → → "MEAT" IN DECOMPOSITION → → "BONES".

We are dealing with a metaphorical language founded on an associative and opposition double level proceeding from an internal mechanism.

Another type of figuration profusely employed by Tu Fu· is that of the names of people and places which, in Chinese, make reference almost always to a signifier.

In a poem composed shortly after his arrival to Ch'eng-Tu and in which the last verse describes the ambiance of the town (with many flowers) after a good rain, Tu Fu extremely adequately and with a fine sense of humour, adds another traditional name to this town: "Mandarin-in-a brocade-robe".

"Et les fleurs (gorgées d'eau) pèsent sur

la ville du Mandarin-en-robe-de-brocart"81

("And the flowers (saturated with water) lean over

the city of the Mandarin-in-a-brocade-robe")

Through this forename the poet, in a way, produces an image that expands that of the flowers, and in another way, suggests the joy of an exiled Mandarin in participating in this festivity during the blossoming of spring.

In another poem entitled Nuit de Lune (Night of Full Moon)82 of which we have already cited two verses, Tu Fu, then a prisoner in Ch'ang-an, a city ravaged by war, thinks about his children safely living elsewhere and wonders if they are still capable (because so young) to remember Ch'ang-an. Ch'ang-an equally means in Chinese 'Long Peace'; and the verses seem to underline with bitter irony that those children who grew in war time have no idea what are times of peace. But, soon after the war, Tu Fu moves to a place near the town of Chien-ko· in the province of Ssû-chuan, · which means in Chinese 'Sword's Door' and he does not hesitate to use this name to finish the poems where he joyfully says:

"Par-delà Épées parvenir nouvelles de dèlivrance"83

("Beyond Swords reach news of deliverance")

Up to here our observation has been limited to the works of Tu Fu. In order to confirm our previous points, we will now look into examples by other poets. Regarding the use of place names as symbolic figurations we will quote an example from Chant de l'éternel regret (The Song of Eternal Regret) by Po chü-i. In a verse which tells of the strangulation of Kui-fei, the favourite of the Hsüan-tsung emperor, on her way to exile (during the An Lu-shan rebellion), the poet deliberately uses the conventional metaphor "moth's eyebrows" which symbolizes 'feminine beauty', to describe the favourite at the scene of the murder.

"Devant les chevaux se tordre gracieux sourcils de phalène"84

("In front of the horses twisting graciously moth's eyebrows")

And later on, the poet uses again the same expression which just happens to be the name of a mountain in the province of Ssû-ch'uan, where the inconsolable emperor sought refuge:

"Sous le Mont Sourcils de Phalène rares sont les passants "

("At the bottom of the Mountain of the Moth's Eyebrows the passers by are rare")

This second image echoes the first, emphasizes the tragic sentiments of the emperor whose imagination is haunted by his dead favourite.

Regarding the use by other poets of conventional metaphors let us see the following example by Meng Hao-jan: ·

"Toi vers nuages verts t'en aller

Moi vers Mont Bleu m 'en retourner"

("You towards green clouds go

I towards Blue Mountain turn")

These two verses are a section of a poem where the poet bids farewell to a friend leaving for the capital in order to occupy a high ranking post, while he retires to his hermitage. "Green clouds" means 'getting a promotion in the Mandarin hierarchy' and is adequately employed here pairing with "Blue Mountain" which symbolizes 'errantry' and 'detachment from worldly matters'. These two images, both related to elements of Nature, highlight the contrast between the two different options (professional career, and hermitism) and the affective link which binds the two friends (as a "Mountain" is continuously surrounded by "clouds").

Let us give an example by Li Po as well:

"Empereur Hsiang nuage-pluie / à présent où se trouver?

Eaux du fleuve vers l'est couler / cris de singes nocturnes"85

("Hsiang emperor cloud-rain / presently where?

River waters flow eastward / screams of nocturne monkeys")

The first verse evokes the legend which relates the amorous encounters between the Hsiang emperor and the Goddess of the Wu Mountain (Witch Mountain). The second verse particularizes the meeting place: the region of the Yang-tse gorges, famous for its tumultuous waves in that [narrow] section and the "screams of [the] monkeys" on the abrupt ravines. The sequence of the images:

WITCH MONTAIN → "CLOUD-RAIN" → RUMBLING "WATERS" → "SCREAMS [OF THE] MONKEYS"

evokes a cosmic sexual act and gives to the verses all their evocative strength.

And finally, we quote a distich from a poem by Tu Mu: ·

"Âme sombrée rivière-lac / portant vin déambuler,

Taille Ch'u entrailles brisées / corps léger dans la paume"86

("Sinking soul river-lake / ramble carrying wine

Waist of Ch'u· lacerated entrails / light body on the palm")

These two verses, which contain a series of sequential metaphors and allusions are a section of a poem where the poet evokes, on a disillusioned manner, the happy but squandering life which he had lived south of the "river". Let us unravel the appropriate meaning of the metaphors:

"SINKING SOUL" = leading a dissipate life;

"RIVER-LAKE" = errantry;

"WAIST OF CH'U" = Ch'u women reputed for their small waists;

"LACERATED ENTRAILS" = broken heart, affliction; and

"LIGHT BODY ON THE PALM" = Cheo-Feiyen, · the favourite of a Han emperor claimed that she could dance on a jade tray held by a man.

These verses can only be interpreted in the following way: "Incessantly erring and devoted to wine drinking, I have lived idly south of the river. I have held many slim waisted women who have all suffered because of me." This denotative language does not express the unfolding of the images:

"SINKING SOUL" = "RIVER-LAKE" = "WINE"="LIGHT BODY" = "WAIST OF CH' U" = "LACERATED ENTRAILS". [sic]

"Par qui effrayé vol d'oies sauvages?

Barrant les nuages traversent le Fleuve"87

("Whom by frightened flight of wild geese?

Crossing the clouds which run across the river")

These verses are from a circumstantial poem: one day, half drunk, the poet climbed to a pavilion perched high over the Yellow river. He woke up from his torpor surprised by a group of "wild geese" in "flight". This scene of a "frightened flight" is equipped by the poet with a rich connotation:

"CLOUDS WHICH RUN ACROSS THE RIVER" = exile, erratic life: and

"FLIGHT OF THE WILD GEESE" = separation, late season, return nostalgia.

The poet understood through these momentaneous images that his wandering life had been for too long. What is questionable here is if the poet is the one who uses conventional metaphors to express the undoing of his nostalgia or if the poet was brought back to reality by the images themselves already meaningfully charged.

A similar relationship with images is to be found in the quartrain Complainte du palais (Palace Lament)88 by Wang Ch'ang-ling where the "young woman", contemplating the "willow buds" on a "spring day" "regrets" "having consented" the departure of "her husband" to a distant location "in search of military glory". The "willow buds", symbols of 'love' as well as of 'separation', were the mechanism which 'triggered' to the "woman" her repressed desires.

By what has just been said we attempted to show that the conventional metaphors which are abundant in Chinese language, when not becoming clichéd, evolved into a structured language ruled by an internal necessity and a properly metonimic logic. This structure enabled the poet to do away with the commentary-discourse and to link with great economy the subjective conscience to the elements of the objective world. The examples which we have just studied were among those which became consciously exploited by their authors and which were relatively easy to analyze. But it is also easy to conceive the multiple unexpected associations and the vibrant dynamism which other types of arrangements might provoke, based on graphic and phonal links and on other corresponding systems (numbers, elements, etc.). These games expose zones of collective or individual unconsciousness.

Regarding 'graphic' arrangements, we have already described how ideograms are charged with ideas and images and how significant they are in certain verses. It is presently appropriate to cite the example of an ideogram whose 'graphic' components give rise to poetical imagery. In China, p'o kua· ('broken melon') is a traditional saying for a sixteen year old girl who has reached the desirable age to be married. The word kua· ('melon') is composed by twice the character ba· ('eight'), which total 'sixteen' (two times 'eight'). From the 'broken melon' expression, derived from a purely graphic arrangement, many poets have composed verses which evoke the erotic idea of 'pale' and 'smooth skin' (of a 'melon'), a 'bite on the flesh', etc.

Regarding the phonal arrangements attention has already been drawn to the homophonic richness of the Chinese monosyllabic language. We will only mention that during the Six Dynasties· period,89 a tradition of popular songs systematically explored (frequently in an audacious and humorous way) homophonic possibilities - a feature which came to the great benefice of T'ang poets. What is remarkable in this tradition is that the phonal arrangements are frequently gratuitous or fortuitous: that is, deriving from a phonal similarity, the poet attempts to develop as much as possible metonimic implications; as such he goes beyond the phonal scope in pursuit of a deeper meaning which enables the rechannelling of the original image.

In this way, in a little love poem, departing from the ts'an-mien· expression ('amorous links', 'amorous encounters'), the authoress of the song associates the imagery of a 'silkworm', which is also pronounced ts'an. · This incongruous image allows her to develop the image of 'thread' (the 'silkworm procreating'). The word 'thread' is pronounced ssu, · homophone with the word 'thought' or 'desire'. Thanks to this word - 'thread', 'thought' - the woman transforms the 'silkworm' metaphor closely linked to the 'amorous' theme. From the image of 'inextricable threads' (which also means, 'obsessive thoughts') making a cocoon derives the image of the 'silkworm' which immolates itself for the accomplishment of its work: through this analogy the woman suggests that she aims at being entirely possessed by her love, even at the cost of her life. This last theme, which prolongs and deepens the original idea, somehow justifies a posteriori, the introduction of the image of the 'silkworm', previously used in the phonal arrangement.

Another poem which has for a theme the meeting between lovers after a long absence of the man. In the warmth of intimacy the man narrates the hardships of his voyage while the woman who listens expresses the sorrows for his past sufferings. Ingeniously the poet plays with the homophony of both words: 'to tell' or 'to narrate' and 'road' which are both pronounced tao.· The poem further elaborates on this ambiguity: on one hand the man who 'narrates', on the other, the woman who mentally reconstructs the itinerary described by the man. Soon, to the image of the 'road' are added images of trees which flank it and punctuate its stages. These trees called nien· have 'bitter fruits'. From the combination of the images: 'road' + 'bitter fruits', appear the expression tao-k'u· which can mean either 'a difficult road' or 'to commiserate' (word by word: 'tell' + 'bitterness'). Through this double meaning expression the imagination of the woman follows the story of the man, who endlessly 'narrates' his sufferings while enjoying being pampered.

§3. THE ANALYSIS OF POEMS

We have just seen through a number of selected examples the way in which the Chinese poets took advantage of a metaphorical language, constituted by an ensemble of symbolic figurations. For many centuries these figurations have crystallized the imagination and the desires of a people. Attributing to things a human signifier, they create another relationship between signs and things as well as intimate links between the signs - these, exactly because of the connections which bind things among themselves.

LI QINGZHAO 李清照 ( ° 1081-† ca 1145). Alias: Yi An Jushi 易安居士. Born in Jinan·[provincial capital] Shandong·[province]. LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

We now find it necessary not just to give examples of verses in isolation but to analyze some poems in their entirety, in order to better analyze this particular language and its mechanisms. During this analysis we will develop some rhetorical notions of metaphor and metonym, according the meanings proposed by R. Jakobson. If the metaphorical process is based on similarity and the metonimic process on continuity, it is on the axis of the selection of the discourse that we envisage the first, and on that of the combination that we envisage the second. From this, the metonym, essentially dealing with the connection (of contiguity) between figurations, takes here an extremely generic meaning. 90 We must remember (despite being repetitive) that we seek above all to make understandable the language mechanism which proceeds from an 'internal development': one figuration giving rise to another, not according to the logic of the discourse but according to the affinities or contradictions which exist among them ("chignon of clouds" - "Perfumed mist"; "arms of jade" - "brightness" of the moon; "Red doors" - bloody "meat putrefact", etc.). The metaphorical figurations representing matters pertaining to Nature are richer of 'virtual' metonymics than the ordinary signs ("chignon of clouds" 'hair' > "red doors" > 'rich households', etc.), without mentioning the economy they imply ("Red doors" instead of 'inside the houses of the rich people'; "jade stepped portico" instead of 'at the entrance of a woman's house'; etc.). Rather than an element from a rigid chain, each figuration is a free unity which, thanks to its multiple components (phonal, graphic, normal meaning, symbolic imagery, virtual content within the system of correspondences, etc.), irradiates in every direction. And, the ensemble of the figurations being bound among themselves by organic and essential connections, weaves a complex network with multiple communication channels. It is thanks to this exploded structure where the 'hindrances' are reduced to a minimum, that the images of a poem, beyond their linearity, become grouped in constellations which, through their interchanges, develop into a vast network of meanings.

We now propose the analysis of three poems whose authors are the among the greatest of the T'ang: Li Ho, Li Po and Li Shang-yin. It is just by chance that all three bear the same family name: Li, unless we prefer to take it as a mysterious metomymic connection which might be associated with divinities when referring to Chinese poetry.

The first poem which we propose to analyze is one by Li Ho. Dying at the early age of twenty-seven, he left a body of works which strike as much by their non-conformity as for their tones of rebellion. Through writing in an incantatory style overloaded by luxuriant imagery, the poet awakes phantasms as no other Chinese poet had dared before. In his poetry of Shamanism and Taoism inspiration, collective myths rub shoulders with personal myths. In order to expose his version of the universe, frequently lugubrious and tragic, he invented an extremely personal bestiary: all sorts of dragons, centenary owls, gigantic lizards with flamboyant tails, wood devils surging from fire, a black lynx spitting blood while screaming, a weeping bronze dromedary, a fox which dies with a shiver, a rapacious bird which eats its own mother, a nine headed serpent which devours the humans soul, etc. In order to emphasise the secret correspondences between things, the poet associates images of different kinds: audio and visual, inert and in motion, real and abstract, etc. Thus, he speaks of the sword that shouts, of the flowers that weep tears of blood, of the wind with smiling eyes, of the colour with tender sobs, of the old red which gets drunk, of the late violet, the idle green, of the green decadence, of the sprouting solitude, of the smoke with wings, of the paws of dew, of the shattering glass noisy sun, of the musical stones sounds moon, of the void which makes heard its voice and laughter... In this universe where the marvelous goes hand in hand with the terrifying and the wonderful, the poet regulates the communion rites through blood links: "Whom shall I ask for help, before my soul and blood freeze?" "I pierce the leopard skin so that its blood may pour in my silver goblet." "The blood that the cuckoo bird spits are the old men's true tears" "My choleric blood underground for a thousand years will be green jade". But, most important than the idea of communion, what is blatant, is the challenge thrown by the poet to a supernatural order and, through this challenge, the explosion of its pulsation. The image of the "sword" incessantly reoccurs like a leitmotif.

The poet makes use of it not only in a chivalrous spirit but also as a scrutiny to all secrets of myths attached to this figuration. He laughs about all those who "are capable of brandishing the sword on others but are not able to see their reflection in it." Under its brush, the "sword" is invested with a multitude of meanings: phallic symbol (according to Taoist tradition), symbol of death (equally according to Taoist tradition which says that the sword is the repersonification of the rigidity of a dead body), symbol of defiance to a superior order (to kill the dragon), and symbol of metamorphosis (the sword which transforms itself in a dragon). The poet intervenes as a clairvoyant, in control of the multiple myths and metaphors accumulated throughout the ages. It is through this deciphering that he discovers the secret pulsation that he has in himself. It is under this perspective that we are going to tackle one of his poems: 

    LI HO 李賀

    "Ballade du K'ung-hou

    Soie de Wu platane de Shu / dresser automne haut
    Ciel vide nuages figés / tombant et ne coulant plus
    Déesse du Fleuve sangloter bambous / Fille Blanche se lamenter
    Li P'ing au Pays du Milieu /jouer k'ung-hou
    Mont K'un-lun jades se briser / couple de phoenix s'interpeler
    Fleurs de Lotus pleurer rosées / orchidées parfumées rire
    Douze portiques par devant / fondre lumières froides
    Vingt-trois cordes de soies / émouvoir Empereur Pourpre
    Nü-wa transformer rochers / réparer voûte céleste
    Pierre fendues ciel éclaté / ramener pluie automnale 
    Rêve pénétrer Mont Sacré / initier les Chamanes 
    Poissons vieillis soulever vagues / longs dragons danser 

    Wu Chih hors sommeil/s' appuyer contrecannelier
    Rosées ailées obliquement s'envoler / mouiller lièvre frissonant'"91

("Ballad of the K'ung-hou·

Silk of Wu plane tree of Shu· / rise autumn high

Empty sky frozen clouds / falling and no longer drifting

Goddess of the River weep bamboos / White Daughter moan

Li P'ing· at the Middle Kingdom· / play k'ung-hou

K'un-lun· Mountain jades shattering / couple of phoenixes singing

Lotus flowers cry dews/ perfumed orchids laugh

Twelve porticoes at the front / melt cold lights

Twenty-three ropes of silks / move Purple Emperor

Nü-wa· transform rocks / repair celestial dome

Cracked stones exploded Heaven / bring back autumnal rain

Dream penetrate Sacred Mountain / initiate the Shamans

Aged fish raise waves / long dragons dance

Wu Chih· except dream / lean against cassia tree

Dews obliquely winged take flight / wet shivering hare")

This poem has for theme a musician improvising on a k'ung-hou. The theme of this musical improvisation was frequently used by Li Ho, particularly in the two poems entitled Cordes magiques (Magical Strings). These are poems of an incantatory nature recreating the invocation ceremonies of the Shamanic witches. Here, although the incantation is still present it is above all through the images raised by the music that the poet attempts to recreate the power of artistic creativity.

At a first reading one is struck by the overabundance of the imagery which unfolds without any apparent connection. However, a reader knowledgeable of the meaning of certain metaphors and of the systems of correspondences (numbers, elements, etc.), will soon grasp the metonymic logic which connects them all. (It has already been said that the poet does without narrative elements immediately dealing at a metaphorical level).

LI ZHIYI 李之儀 (Active ca 1090). "Busuanzi I live upstream, And you downstream. Day after day, I long to see you, But all's in vain, Though we both drink from the same river. When will the Long River stop flowing? When will my heart stop grieving? I only wish you were feeling the same， Then 1 would not languish for you in vain." Translated by Ieong Sao Leng, Sylvia 楊秀玲 Yang Xiuling LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

The poem starts by the expression "Silk [and] plane tree" which is a derivative from 'silk and bamboo', a common metaphor to generically designate 'musical instruments'. Of theses images - which represent elements of Nature - the verb 'expands' with extreme naturalism on the "autumn" and the "empty sky" themes. "The empty sky" - where "clouds" are "frozen" only disturbing the weeping "Goddess of the River" Hsiang and her "White Daughters": these are the wives of the legendary Shun· king (after his death their tears over his tomb make bamboos sprout), immediately suggest a mythical place inhabited by death. This passage through emptyness is an essential test. We must be aware that at the end of the fourth verse the poet has very ingeniously placed the name of the "k'ung-hou" instrument, which graphically means 'the waiting emptiness'. The idea of a mythical place is confirmed by the fifth verse which, without transition, introduces the image of the "K'un-lun transliterations/translations Mountain", the "Sacred" range in western China. This mountain is particularly famous for its jades, from where derives the image of "jades shattering" in the fifth verse. But this image is also used in the ordinary language to mean 'self sacrifice for the sake of beauty' or 'to die for a noble cause'. The idea of a passage through death is again pursued, but it is followed in the same verse by that of a resurrection suggested by the "coupled phoenixes" (supernatural birds symbolizing the act of mating and the miracle of life).

From this point onwards, the poem consistently develops in a number of stages through metaphors and figurations borrowed from different traditional myths: "Goddess of the River" Hsiang, the "Purple Emperor" (or the emperor himself as Li P'ing was a court musician); "Nü-wa" (mythical feminine personification who melted five coloured "stones" to repair a "comer" of "Heaven" damaged by the Kung-kung· demon), "Shamans", "Wu Chih" (who, after an accident which took place during his initiation ceremony to become an immortal, was condemned to remain on the moon and to trim the branches of the "cassia tree" which grows there: a tree which incessantly grows giving no rest to the lumberman). Through these protagonists the poem shows the relationship established by music between the terrestrial elements and those of the supernatural world. This connection is further suggested by numerically based correspondence networks.

In the seventh verse, the "Twelve porticoes" make reference to those of the imperial palace. But the image of "melt cold lights" (the effect of music over the elements) which follows, makes one think of the twelve notes of the Chinese musical scale as well as the 'twelve terrestrial branches' which thus rejoin the initial image of the "tree" (to the 'twelve terrestrial branches' corresponding to the 'ten celestial stems'). Regarding the "twenty-three ropes" of the eight verse, they appear in connection with the presence of celestial bodies (The "Purple Emperor" meaning at the same time the person of the [legendary] emperor [of China] and the star with his name, as well as the phase of the moon which is called in Chinese: 'lunar rope', etc.) and evoking the 'twenty-eight celestial mansions'. Between number twenty-three and twenty-eight there is a missing number. This missing munber is exactly suggested in the following verse where the poet speaks of the missing section of "Heaven" and of the Goddess "Nü-wa" who "repairs" the collapsed "comer" of "Heaven" with five coloured stains.

Broadly schematizing, it is possible to extricate from this plethora of images, the following themes: artistic creation is an initiation which precludes tests, deathly tests from which it is only possible to achieve victory if the winner merges with the supernatural world. The relationship with the supernatural is that of a sexual order. In the poem, one can see on one side, supernatural beings (or connected to the supernatural) which are feminine personifications: the Goddess Hsiang ["Goddess of the River"], "Nü-wa" and the "Shamans"; and on the other side, masculine human beings: the musician "Li P'ing" and the "Wu Chih" emperor. This sexual realm is underlined by the phallic symbol of the music instrument ["k'ung-hou"] which presents itself disguised as a ["cassia] tree": the erect plane tree, the shooting "bamboos", the 'twelve celestial stems' and the "cassia tree" whose branches grow incessantly. It must also be pointed out that the name of the musician, "Li"· (fourth verse) also means 'prunus'. The interaction between these two types of protagonists - feminine and masculine, supernatural and human - regulates the rhythm of the movements of the cosmos. Through his challenge the artist transgresses the ruled orders and subjects the elements to a process of metamorphosis: "frozen clouds", "jades shattering", "phoenixes singing", "laughing orchids", "molten light", "exploded stones", "autumnal rain" (and it must underline that the image of "rain" is connected with that of the "clouds" in the second verse, the two combined images signifying in Chinese, 'the sexual act)', a "dancing dragon", and a "shivering hare". This last image of the "hare", apparently as incongruous as misleading in this 'forest of symbols' is itself a symbol: that of 'fecundity' and 'immortality'. In effect, the myths about the moon present it as a place inhabited by a "hare" and a toad, and where a "cassia tree" grows. The poet avoids mentioning the moon, evoking it through the animals which inhabit it, preferring to present it as a remote place or an ancillary décor, through which is sustained the ambiguity between the human and the supernatural worlds. "Wu Chih" and the "hare" are at the same time real beings and transformed entities. "Wu Chih" - that cuts the "cassia tree" - and the "hare" - which makes the immortality potion - although finally achieving ecstasies and bliss can not liberate themselves from their tragic condition. Depite all, the "cassia tree" will continue growing and the moon will shrink to obscurity. Even immortality is mortal. The final image of the "cassia tree" (sacred tree) which reconnects with the initial image of the "plane tree" (terrestrial tree) demonstrates both the sublimation process as well as that of the eternal repetitive cycle.

LU YOU 陸游 (°1125-†1210). Alias: Wu Guan 務觀. Outstanding patriotic poet. LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

This incantatory poem seems prime for as much internal unity as for being an exception to all rules. Its universe in turmoil and its amalgamated elements are provoked by language itself. Through metaphorical imagery ("silk" and "plane tree", "jades shattering", "phoenixes singing", "clouds"-"weep" ['rain'], "twelve porticoes" and "twenty-three ropes") and the mythical figures, the poet achieves a language constantly axed on metonymy devoid of external commentaries, as if images fathered more images. The poem presents itself as an uninterrupted series of 'unexpected' metaphors, surprises which are none other than the actualization of a structured metonymic system. If we must use a figure of speech, we must say that metaphor and metonymy represent here the front and the back of a painting.

The poet is more than the narrator but also the person who uncontrollably narrates. He stands as a decoder as well as a codifier of accumulated myths throughout the millennia. Everything unfolds as if the poet were not able to achieve his own myth without having previously experienced all other myths. And, in codifying them he transforms them. This underground' passage through myths is for him also an initiation.

Li Shang-yin (°812-†858) lived shortly after Li Ho. As the former he became famous by the way he controlled imagery, but his approach is somehow different. Chanter of secret passions, he employed devices of allusion. In order to achieve his intended purposes he employs like Li Ho, rich images full of symbolic meanings but foremost employs formal astuteness (caesurae, 'parallelisms', strophic progressions, etc.), organizing them into two major vectors: linear and spatial. Doing away with narrative or anecdotal elements, his imagery relies on oppositions and internal combinations which fully reflect their connotative contents.

Through his way of exhausting all metonymic virtualities (phonal, semantic, and iconographic) which an image provokes, he is close to the Six Dynasties popular tradition which has been previously mentioned. A lü-shih of his has been selected for the following analysis: 

    LI SHANG-YIN 李商隱

    "Cithare ornée de brocart
    Ⅰ1. Cithare ornée pur hasard / voici cinquante cordes
    2. Chaque corde chaque chevalet / désirer années fleuries 

    Ⅱ3. Lettré Chuang rêve matinal/ s'illusionner papillon
    4. Empereur Wang cœur printanier / se transformer tu-chüan 

    Ⅲ5. Mer profonde lune claire / perles avoir larmes
    6. Champ Bleu soleil ardent/jades naître fumées 

    Ⅳ7. Cette passion pouvant durer / devenir poursuite-souvenir 
    8. Seulement au moment même / déjà dépossédé"92

    ("Zither adorned with brocade 

    Ⅰ1. Zither ornate pure chance / fifty strings here

    2. Each string each fret / which flourishing years

    Ⅱ3. Writer Chuang· early morning dream / butterfly gets illusions
    Ⅱ4. Wang· emperor spring heart / tu-chüan· becomes transformed

    Ⅲ5. Deep sea bright moon / pearls have tears
    6. Blue Field scorching sun /jades born smokes

    Ⅳ7. This passion providing last / become chase-memory
    8. Only at the very moment / already non possessed")

This poem written in a 'laconic' style, has for its theme the memory of a passion. The first distich immediately characterizes the ambiguous level of the poem. The poet derives his basic theme from an object real as well as legendary: that of a chin-se· ("zither"), a musical instrument with "fifty [horizontal] strings". Usually a chin-se only has twenty-five strings. But it is true that a legend says that its origin - in remote antiquity of China - the instrument effectively was constituted by fifty strings but that, during an audition by a Chou "emperor", the sovereign being torn apart by the poignancy of the music played by one of his favourites, had ordered the number of strings to be reduced by half. The first distich clearly expresses that the "emperor" faces a real object (the memories left by a beloved woman?), but it is also speculative if he is not equally dreaming about an imaginary object through which he was able to identify himself with an inconsolable lover in remote antiquity. One way or another, the image of the "zither" enables the poet not to identify himself as an 'I', the musical instrument becoming the object of metamorphosis. These "fifty strings" may stand for the age when the poet composed the poem (certain researchers hypothesize that the poet wrote these verses when he was aged fifty). However, these "years" converge towards an obsessive image: that of a flower (which itself makes allusion to that of the "brocade") which is not just a mere decorative element but suggests a desire of withdrawal and disquiet. The images of the "strings" and their "frets" are related to sexual nuances: according to the Taoist tradition, a woman's sex is designated as 'musical strings' and that of a man's by 'column of jade' (in Chinese the words 'column' and 'bridge' [in the musical context] being represented by the same word). So, the "zither" which abruptly starts the poem gives rise to a number of ambiguous questions by its multiple allusions and the 'echo' of its melody: is the poem's action a past experience or a dream? Is it an identification of one's self or a double unfolding? Is it the chase for a never accomplished desire or an infinite quest for the other?

XIN QIJI 辛棄疾 (°1140-†1207). Aliases: You An 幼安, Jia Xuan 稼軒. Born in Jinan, Shandong [province]. Patriotic poet. LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE 1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

These questions will never be addressed explicitly by the poet. Perforating the narrative and being without transition, the spoken address of the first distich, it introduces in the two following 'parallel' distiches (second and third) a spatial organization of signs based on a 'reversible equivalence' (the second distich) and on a 'circular sequence' (third distich). Thanks to these structures and without necessity of further commentaries, the images are self-significant, attracting and combining among themselves to create a complex network with a particular internal logic. Through these images it is possible to grasp the themes of the chase of a memory and a desire, of a passion either lived or dreamed about, of a search through life in transformation during the cyclical time which might enable the two lovers to meet again.

The two distiches are articulated as follows: the second distich elevates the poem to the metaphorical level, and from that level opens up to a metonymic level which the poet explores in the third distich, which is constituted by a sequence of images in continuous unfolding. Let us first analyze the symbolic meaning related to the images represented in the second distich:

"Writer Chuang [...] / butterfly [...]": once, the Chinese philosopher Chuang-tzü· wakening from a dream in which he was a butterfly, asked himself if, after all, he really dreamed about being a butterfly or if, on the contrary, it was the butterfly who had dreamed of becoming Chuang-tzü. Was he really Chuang-tzü while awake or was he the product of the dream of a butterfly? The philosopher demonstrates here the Taoist concept dealing with the illusion of life and the identity of beings.

"Wang emperor [...] / tu-chüan [...]": according to the legend, the emperor Wang Shu·, not being able to find solace after the death of his favourite, relinquished the throne and disappeared, his soul being later transformed into a tu-chüan ('cuckoo'), whose cry resembles a person weeping. When singing, the cuckoo frequently spat blood which itself turned into bright red flowers of the sort that can be abundantly found in the land of Shu and which are aptly called tu-chüan flowers (a kind of 'poppy'). Thus, the tu-chüan symbolizes 'a passion of short duration' which becomes distended in metamorphosis. We should also notice that for the "Writer Chuang [...] / butterfly [...]" as well as for the "Wang emperor [...] / tu-chüan [...]" there is a sex change - both the "butterfly" and the 'cuckoo' always had in the Li Shang-yin poetry a feminine connotation.

If the poet identifies himself with the "Writer Chuang" and the "Wang emperor", these two, are respectively placed at a comparative level with the "butterfly" and the 'cuckoo'. This sequence of 'comparative levels' is underlined by the grammatical structure of the two phrases. The two verses being 'parallel' have an identical structure: two animated themes (A and B) connected by a verb. The two verbs "gets illusions" and "becomes transformed", which commonly being used as transitive verbs, are 'neutralized' by the omission of post-verbal elements (for instance, by a preposition such as 'to' or 'in'). This way, the progression of the phrase rather than being in one direction only: A → B, becomes reversible: AB. This way, the second verse can, for example, be read: "the heart of the Wang emperor transforms itself into a cuckoo" or, inversely: "a cuckoo transforms itself into the heart of the Wang emperor". Through the syntaxical audacity, the poet places on the reversibility level both human elements and those of Nature, in order to signify that, if his past passion and his unquenched desire are moved by another order of things, he still nurtures the hope of finding them again. On the other hand, as the two verses are 'parallel', "morning dream" and "spring heart", "butterfly" and 'cuckoo' confront each other at the same time as they are in opposition; on one side, "illusion", 'forgetfulness' and 'carelessness'; on another, "chase-memory", 'carnal desire' and 'tragic passion'. These two irreconcilable poles represent the conflict of the poet, enhanced by the formal organization of the poem.

This distich, structured on the 'equivalence' level has a metaphoric nature (holding a metonymic structure: 'dream'-"butterfly", 'heart' -"tu-chüan"). It establishes analogy links between different types of beings (and between different realms): first, between the poet and the two protagonists ("Chuang" and "Wang"); secondly, between these protagonists and the "butterfly" and the "tu-chüan" -- beings of the animal kingdom. Finally, the image of the animal kingdom implies that of the vegetal kingdom, represented by the flower ["flourishing years"]. All these established links generate the idea of interchangeability and transformation and open up over a wide metonymic field which the poet explores in the following distich.

The third distich is composed of a sequence of metaphors connected by contiguous links. The two verses start, respectively, with images of "[Deep] sea" and "[Blue] Field" which combined, in Chinese, mean 'transformation'.93 Beyond the animal and the vegetal kingdoms, the search of the poet further expands; it reaches the mineral world, represented by "pearls" and "jades". We must poit out which are the myths contained in these two verses.

Fifth verse: In the south "sea", mermaids appear in the full "[bright] moon" nights, the "tears" that they pour become "pearls".

Sixth verse: In the "Blue Field" (in the actual province of Shen-si·, famous for its "jades"), the "sun" provoke emanations which offer fantastic visions (but only, when seen from considerable distance). Another myth tells that an old man planted seeds which had been given to him by an unknown passer-by, in reward for his generosity. These seeds, when they sprouted, became beautiful "jades", thanks to which he was able to marry the maiden he coveted.

It is not difficult to understand the metonymic links which bind these images: for instance, in the fifth verse, the interaction between the "sea" and the "moon", and the analogies of 'brightness' and 'roundness' between the "moon" and the "pearls", and the "pearls" and the "tears", and finally, the image of "tears" being that of a liquid element (because in Chinese the expression exists of: 'a sea of tears'), which relates to the initial image of the "sea". Both verses constitute a circular connection each:

Attention must be drawn to the fact that related to the expression 'a sea of tears' there is also in Chinese the expression 'a sea of smokes'. According to this relationship the second verse relates back to the beginning of the first verse. The two circular connections can be represented by the following diagram (which has already been used in order to illustrate the 'parallelism'): These combined circular connections, despite their coherence, define an 'emptiness' and an absence. Inbetween the animal kingdom and the second distich, and the mineral kingdom and the third distich, there is always the image of the flower ["flourishing years"] mentioned in the first distich and suggested by the "butterfly"-"smokes" and the "tu-chüan"-"tears". The absent flower (the desired woman) is exactly the object of the poet's search. Bearing in mind the two legends of the third distich (both connected to the appearance of a woman) and equally having in mind the particular meanings connected to the images of the "moon", the "waves", the "pearls" and the "jades" (in Chinese, a multitude of expressions based on these images describe feminine beauty: the 'body of a woman', the 'stare of a woman', the 'hair of a woman', and the 'face of a woman', one can really sense, beyond its absence, the physical presence of the beloved woman which provokes the magic of the ode. The circular sequence represented by the last diagram, also suggests the belief of the poet in the possibility of an encounter in another life. If this search of the poet through time and kingdoms is greatly enhanced by the prosaic linearity, one should not forget that, as in the precedent distich, the fifth and sixth verses are 'parallels'. The terms which are confronted in these two verses, because of their combinations, expose other meanings: "SEA"-"FIELD" = universal transformation, vicissitudes of human life; "SUN"-"MOON" = cosmic movement, passing of time (day and night, days and months), eternity; "PEARLS"-"JADES" = traditionally associated to a great number of expressions: human treasures, harmony within a couple, melodious musical sounds (the expression 'buried pearls and jades' meaning 'a dead beautiful woman'); and "TEARS"-"SMOKES" = tragic passion, vain passion. Other significant combinations are still possible: "SEA"-"SUN" = to be born again; and 'DRIED' "SEA"-'ROTTEN STONE' = indestructible passion. Besides these binomials which connect the two verses, one must mention the two verses in their entirety, one being yin ("moon", "sea") and the other yang ('sun', 'fire'). When placed in 'parallel', the two verses give rise to the image of mating (yin-yang :woman-man). Through these carnal connections, manhood and womanhood are forever separated yet united. In this way, in the distich, while according to the syntagmatic axis the theme of the "dream" created in the precedent distich unfolds ("Writer Chuang"), on the paradigmatic axis, between the two verses, the theme of desire unfolds ("Wang emperor"). A reader aware of the symbolic meanings of all these images, when rhythmically scanning both verses, beyond their 'direct' language ("Beyond everything, night and day, I search for you and I desire you. Come to me, together one into the other, we will be reborn [...]")94, brings to the surface from the deepest profundities of meanings the figurations and the gestures of an obsessive mind. The three distiches which we have just analyzed are contained within a continuous evolutive process, without the most deeply rooted elements of a denotative language trapping them in a unique direction. Behind all images, structured and exploded, one can guess, subjacent an 'I' and a "you' which guarantee a certain unity. Neither one nor the other are mentioned, because one does not exist without the other; and neither one nor the other are to be found except in this passionate search, a pursuit signified by a series of metaphorical strata, each stratum being manifested by a series of figurations interrelated between themselves: wang 惘 which has the same pronunciation as the "emperor"'s name ["Wang"], thus emphasizing his presence and contributing towards the coherence of the poem. This word, which has a variety of images, can mean: "possessed" ('the heart caught in a web') and "not possessed" ('the unattainable void of absence'). Through this word full of ambiguity and apparent contradiction, the end of the poem situates itself in the real where all that is present is validated by absence and where the time of the past passion is confused with that of its search. To conclude, we will analyze a quartrain by Li Po which represents an extreme case, although frequent in Chinese poetry. It is about understanding how, in a poem where all descriptive elements are educed to a minimum, the symbolic images create an homogeneous paradigm and create a spatial order in which, although being in opposition, they are transformed in interchangeable entities. Through this structure, concomitantly exploded and unifying it (such as a constellation) that emphasises its economy of means, a metaphorical language becomes evident - where subject and object, inside and outside, near and far are the facets of a prism incessantly radiant: 
    LI PO 李白

    "Perron de jade

    Perron de jade naître rosée blanche
    Tard la nuit pénétrer bas de soie
    Cependant baisser store de cristal
    Par transparence lune d'automne"95

    ("Jade stepped portico 

    Jade stepped portico born white dew 
    Late at night penetrate silk stockings 
    Meanwhile lower crystal blind
    Through transparency contemplate autumn moon")

An interpretation to this poem has just been proposed. However, in the poem, the narrative elements are no more that a few neutral action verbs, while the words describing feelings such as 'solitude', 'deception', 'frustration', 'regret', the 'desire of the encounter', etc., are totally absent. The personal noun, as prescribed by Chinese poetical tradition is equally absent. Who speaks? A 'she' or an 'I'? The reader is invited to reenact the feelings of the protagonist 'from the inside'; although these sentiments are only suggested by gestures and a few objects.

The poem presents itself as a sequence of images: "Jade stepped portico", "white dew", "silk stockings", "crystal blind", 'ling-long'· ("through transparency"), "autumn moon". A reader aware of the Chinese poetical symbolism will have no problem in extracting its connotative meaning:

"JADE [STEPPED] PORTICO" = cold night, lonely time, tears; and a certain erotic nuance as well;

"SILK STOCKINGS" = the body of a woman;

"CRYSTAL BLIND" = the interior of a gynaeceum; and

"LING-LONG"= this word which has been translated in the fourth verse as "through transparency", has a variety of meanings.

Although initially evoking the jingling sound of the jade pendants, it is also used to qualify precious and sparkling objects, as well as faces of women and children. In this context it stands for a double meaning: for the woman who stares at the "moon" and for the "moon" which lights the woman's face. From a phonal point of view the sequence of words contained in the preceding verses, are words which successively start with the letter '1' and stand for 'shining' and 'transparent objects': lu. ("dew"), luo• ("silk"), and lien• ("crystal blind"); and "AUTUMN MOON" = distant presence and desire of reunion (distant lovers may look at the moon, at the same time; and because of this, the full moon symbolizes the 'reunion of loved beings').

Through this sequences of images the poet creates a coherent world. The linear progression is sustained at a metaphorical level. What all these images have in common is that they all represent 'shining' and 'transparent objects'. Each one of them seems to derive from the precedent, in a regular sequence. This sensation of regularity is confirmed in the syntactical level by the regularity of the phrases of identical typology. The four phrases which constitute the poem can all be analyzed by the same diagram:

COMPLEMENT + VERB + OBJECT

Such a regularity imprints the poem with nuances of an inexorable order: in each of the four phrases, the verb is situated at the centre, is determined by a complement and leads to an object. Bearing in mind the omission of the personal subject, the poem stands as part of a process of chained connections and where, successively, one image progresses to the next, from the first to the last.

COMBINATION AXIS SELECTION AXIS

This diagram suggests a linear progression in a single direction. But from an imaginary 'viewpoint', the last image ("moon" light) could be connected to the first ("stepped portico") passing through all the others: "Ling-long " is at the same time the 'face of the woman who stares' and the "moon" seen through the "crystal blind"; and this "moon" is at the same time 'a distant presence' and 'an intimate feeling', which provokes in each of its associations with the mentioned objects a new sensation.

Translated from the French original by: Dominique Audart

** Revised reprint from: CHENG, François, L'Écriture Poétique Chinoise Suivi d'une Anthologie des poèmes des T'ang Èdition révisée em 1982, Paris, Èditions du Seuil, 1982, pp.11-191 [lst edition: 1977].

** In this collection of "Chinese Poets"'s ink drawings, each English subtitle follow the text of the original Chinese colophon pertaining to the respective illustration.

NOTES

Translator's introductory note:

TEXT: In a number of cases, the impossibility of coherently reverting into English both the supporting French transliterations/translations of Chinese poems/extracts of poems/titles of poems in the TEXT and their respective and their basic explanatory TEXT, due to grammar and syntax discrepancies between the French and the English languages, led to the overall standardization of including the French transliterations/translations of Chinese poems/extracts of poems/ titles of poems followed by their respective English transliteration/translation.

NOTES: Discrepancies between French transliterations/ translations of Chinese poems/extracts of poems/titles of poems in the TEXT and in the respective NOTES were kept according to the basic French edition. For comparative reference, whenever possible, an English version of the same poem/extract of poem/title of poem follows its respective French version.

Extracts of poems quoted by the author in the TEXT and repertoried in the NOTES, are underlined and contextualised in each corresponding poem, in full, according to their respective French version. English version of poems/extracts of poems/titles of poems in the NOTES are respectively complementary and not coincidental to their respective poems/extracts of poems/titles of poems in the TEXT.

1 The first known specimens of Chinese writing are divination texts on bones and tortoise shells. Archaich bronze ritual vessels also display inscriptions. These two types of writing were practised during the Shang• period (XVIII-XI centuries BC).

2 The Shih-ching (Book of Songs) was the first compilation of 'canticles' of Chinese literature. It contains works dating as far back as the first millenium BC.

3 We are not dealing here with a presentation exclusively based on etymology. Basically, our viewpoint is semiological: above all, what is here attempted is to explicate the signific graphic connections which exist between the signs.

4 Regarding the way in which are understood - either explicitely or implicitely, and according to traditional Chinese rhetoric - the linguistic signs and their functions (a problem which going beyond the parameters of this research, deserves to be systematically studied), the following works should be consulted: the Wen-fu by Lu Chi (AD°261-†303), and the Wen-hsin tiao-long. by Liu Hsieh. (AD°465-+522). What must be here, above all, underlined is the affirmation of mankind as an element of the universe. Mankind together with the sky [Heaven] and the Earth constitute the San-t'ai• (Three Geniuses). These have between them an interrelationship of complementarity and correspondence. The role of mankind consists not only to inhabit the universe but to interiorise all matters, recreating them so that mankind may reassert itself within the the universe. In the process of 'co-creation', the central element of of the literary realm, is the notion of wen •. This concept was to become part of numerous characters meaning 'language', 'style', 'literature', 'civilization',-etc. Originally wen meant the 'imprint' left by some animals, the 'grain' of wood and the 'veins' of stones, an ensemble of harmonious and rhythmic 'traces'; signifiers of Nature. The creation of language signs (equally called wen) derives from the image of these 'traces'. In a certain way, this double origin of wen, constitutes a guarantee to mankind in the unravelling of the mysteries of Nature, and through these, of the 'nature' of mankind itself. This 'vital flow' which animates and reconstitutes the relationships between all matter certainly is a masterpiece!

5 詩成泣鬼神 Shicheng qi guishen.

6 The image of the 'eye' is of foremost importance in Chinese artistic conception. Regarding painting, it is pertinent to remember the anecdote of the painter who always drew eyeless dragons. To all those who questioned him about this strange practise he would invariably reply: - "Because at the moment I add the eyes the dragon would immediately take flight!"

7 Concerning this notion, we give the example of a verse by Li Ho: 筆補造化天無功 Bibu zaohua tian wugong ("When the brush perfects Creation, Heaven is not totally meritorious!").

8 Wang Wei: Hsin-i wu.

9 These two ideograms intrinsically mean the 'lotus' flower. The poet borrows them here suggesting the image of a 'magnolia' flower which is visually similar to that of a 'lotus'.

10 Tu Fu: Je san-shou.•

Chang Jo-shü: Ch'un-chiang-hua-yüeh-ye.· This poem is studied in detail in my text: Analyse formelle de l'oeuvre poétique d'un auteur des T'ang: Zhang Ruo-xu (Formal analysis of the poetical work of a T'ang author: Zhang Ruo-xu).

12 The theory of the 'primary brushstroke' already expostulated by Chang Yen-yuan (AD°810-†ca880) in his Laiti ming-hua, by was to be developed by other painters, namely Shi T'ao(°1671-†1719) in his Hua-yu lu.

13 Ch'i-yün ('vital flow').

14 Regarding literature, it is apt to remember Ts'ao P'ei's· (AD°187-†225) phrase in his Tien-lun lun-wen:• 文以氣爲主 "Wen I Ch'i wei chu" ("In literature: The primacy of the flow."). This work is generally considered a pioneer of Chinese literary critique. Also in Liu Hsieh (AD°465-†552) Wen-hsin tiao-long's· 養氣"Yang Ch'i" ("Nourishing The flow") chapter.

Regarding painting, we are just adding Hsieh He's (active AD500) famous phrase: "Ch'i-yün sheng-tong"• ("To animate the rhythmic flow.").

15 More specifically, pertaining to Taoist philosophy.

16 The division of words in these two major categories vary according to works and epochs. Although all the major Shih-hua·('On Poetry') consistently debated this problem, it is also true that their authors do not specifically determine categories, these being only defined through the numerous examples that they quote in order to support their arguments.

See: CHENG Tei -MAI Mei-ch'iao's,· Ku-han-yü yu-fahsüeh hui-pien· ―For a comprehensive study on this subject.

17 See: II, pp. 31-32

18 The historical situation which conditioned the production of this type of poetry may be resumed as follows: after centuries of internal alliances and the [foreign] invasions which followed the Han dynasty, China was reunified during the T'ang dynasty. Thanks to an efficient administration, the imperial government was able to control the whole nation. However, the archaich structure of a feudal society was shaken by the creation of large scale urban conglomerations, the development of an expanded communication network, and a vast commercial implementation. On the other hand, the recruitment of civil servants through official examinations developed an increasing social mobility. On the cultural level, if the unity of the nation brought again to China the lost consciousness of an internal identity, it also opened the country to multiple external influences, mainly from India and Central Asia. The capital of Ch'ang-an· became a cosmopolitain metropolis where were exchanged numerous intellectual ideologies, thus giving rise to a society concomitantly respectful of order yet effervescent with an extraordinary creative drive.

Despite all, a major event which took place during the years 755-763 came to shake the foundations of the dynasty: the rebellion commanded by a barbarian general called Lu-shan, which caused a great number of deaths and gave rise to all sorts of abuses and injustices. This rebellion brought the dynasty to its end. The poets who lived during this tragic period and those who followed it, produced works which no longer eulogised 'confidence' but expressed a 'deep dramatic state of consciousness'. The theme of their works became centred on the reenactment of survival dramas rather than in the affluent description of social realities. Their works suffered the influence of the evolution of society.

19 This essay being also addressed to those without much knowledge of Sinology, has adapted - among the several transcription systems currently in use - the Wade-Giles system, which remains to the present the most popular and commonly used in the West. On the other hand, we decided to transcribe the words according to the present pronunciation.

[Translator's note: Throughout the text all transliterations were kept according to the French original edition. For a pinyin romanisation of these transliterations see the "Comprehensive Chinese Glossary" at the end of this issue. Entries of this text are made for all words indexed with a superciliary dot (·) according to the transliteration originally given by the author.].

20 We quote [the marquis d'] Hervey Saint-Denys on the difficulty of translating Chinese verses: "In most cases, a literal translation of the Chinese is impossible. Certain characters frequently express a tableau (mood) which can only be expressed by a periphrase. […] In order to be interpreted with validity, certain characters absolutely require a whole phrase. Any Chinese vers (verse) must be first [attentively] read; and in order to be able to grasp its prevailing trait (mood) and to retain [in the translation] its force (strength) or couleur (hue) [the reader] must become imbued by the image or thought in contains. It is a dangerous task: pityful as well, when [the translator is] fully aware of the intrinsic beauties [of a verse] that no European language is able to express."

21 Following the May Fourth Movement (1911), the literary 'revolution' being strictly connected with the political and social 'revolution', questions once again not only the traditional ideology but also the 'instrument' of literary expression.

22 This genre will be analysed in the following chapter.

23 [See: Part. II, p.112]

WANG WEI 王維

鹿柴

空山不見人

但聞人語聲

返景入紳林

復照青苔上

Clos au cerfs

Montagne vide/ ne percevoir personne

Seulement entendre / voix humaine résonner

Ombre-retournée / pénétrer forêt profonde

Encore luire / sur la mousse verte

In: CHENG, François, l'écriture poétique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poémes des T'ang, Paris. Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.112.

Deer Park

Hills empty, no one to be seen

We only hear voices echoed -

With light coming back into the deep wood

The top of the green moss is lit again.

In: WANG Wei, ROBINSON, G. W. trans. and intro., Wang Wei: Poems, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1973, p.28.

24 [See: Part. II, p.171].

WANG WEI 王維

終南山

太乙近天都

連山到海隅

白雲迴望合

青霭入看無

分野中峰變

陰陽衆壑殊

欲投人宿處

隔水問樵夫

Le mont Chung-nan

Suprême faîte / proche de la Citadelle-céleste

Reliant monts/jusqu'au bord de lamer

Nuages blancs / se retourner comtempler s'unir

Rayon vert / pénétrer chercher s'anéantir

Divisant étoiles / pic central se transformer

Sombre-clair / vallons multiples varier

Désirer descendre / logis humain passer la nuit

Par-delà eau / s'addresser à bûcheron

In: CHENG, François, l'écriture poétique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poèmes des T'ang, Paris. Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.170.

The Chungnan Mountains

T'ai-i nearly touching the Citadel of Heaven

Chain of hills down the edge of the sea

White clouds closing over the distance

Blue haze - nothing comes into view

The central peak transforms the whole tract

Dark and light valleys, each way distinct -

If I want a lodging for the night here

Across the river there's a woodman I may ask.

In: WANG Wei, ROBINSON, G. W. trans. and intro., Wang Wei: Poems, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1973, p.69.

25 [See: Part II, p.110].

MENG HAO-JAN 孟浩然

春曉

春眠不覺曉

處處聞啼鳥

夜來風雨聲

花落知多少

Matin de printemps

Sommeil printanier / ignorer aube

Tout autour entendre / chanter oiseaux

Nuit passée bruissement / de vent de pluie

Pétales tombées / qui sait combien...

In: CHENG, François, l'écriture poétique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poèmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.110.

The Dawn of Spring

Spring dreams that went on

well past dawn; and I felt

that all around me was the sound

of birds singing; but really

night was full of the noise

of rain and wind, and now I wonder

how many blossoms have fallen.

In: ALLEY, Rewi, trans., Selected Poems of the Tang & Song Dynasties, Hong Kong, Hai Feng Publishing Company, 1981, p.7.

26 [See: Part II, p.207].

LIU CH'ANG-CH'ING 劉長卿

尋南溪敘道士

一路經行處

莓苔見履痕

白雲依靜渚

春草閉閑門

過雨看松色

隨山到水源

溪花與禪意

相對亦忘言

En cherchant le moine taoїste Ch'ang du ruisseau du Sud

Le long chemin / traverser maints endroits

Mousses tendres / percevoir traces de sabots

Nuages blancs / entourer оlot calme

Herbes folles / enfermer porte oisive

Pluie passйe / contempler couleur de pin

Colline longйe / atteindre source de riviиre

Fleurs de l'eau / rйvйler esprit de Ch 'an

Face а face / dejа hors de la parole

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.206.

A Visit to Ch'ang, the Taoist recluse of Nan Ch'i

All my way along the road (to your cottage)

On the mosses I see footprints of your wooden shoes.

White clouds lie low upon the quiet island,

Sweet grasses grow right up to your idle door.

A passing shower brings out the colour of the pines.

Following the hills I come to the source of the stream.

In: JENYNS, Soame, trans., Selections from the Three Hundred Poems of the T'ang Dynasty, London, John Murray, 1940, p. 105.

27 [See: Part II, p. 193].

TU FU 杜甫

又呈吳郎

堂前撲棗任西鄰

無食無兒一婦人

不爲困窮寜有此

只緣恐懼轉須親

即防遠客雖多事

便插疏離卻甚真

已訴徵求貧到骨

正思戎馬淚盈巾

Second envoi а mon neveu Wu-lang

Devant chaumiиre secouer jujubier / voisine de l'ouest

Sans nourriture sans enfant/une femme esseulйe

Si n'кtre pas dans la misиre / pourquoi recourir а ceci

A cause de honte-crainte/au contraire кtre bienveillant

Se mйfier de l'hфte йtranger / bien que superflu

Planter haies clairsemйes / nйanmoins trop rйel

Se plaindre corvйes-impфts / dйpouillйe jusqu'aux os

Penser flammes de guerre / larmes mouiller habits

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.193.

Asking of Wu Lang Again

Couldn't let her filch dates from your garden?

She's a neighbor. Childless and without food,

Alone - only desperation could bring her to this.

We must be gentle, if only to ease her shame.

People from far away frighten her. She knows us

Now - a fence would be too harsh. Tax collectors

Hound her, she told me, keeping her bone poor...

How quickly thoughts of war become falling tears.

In: HINTON, David, trans., The selected poems of Tu Fu,

New York, New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1989, p.97.

28 [See: Part II, p.213].

WANG WEI 王維

月下獨酌

花間一壺酒

獨酌無相親

舉杯邀明月

對影成三人

月既不解飲

影徒隨我身

暫伴月將影

行樂須及春

我歌月徘徊

我舞影零亂

醒時同交歡

醉後各分散

永结無情逰

相期邈雲漢

Buvant seul sous la lune

Pichet de vin, au milieu de fleurs.

Seul а boire, sans un compagnon,

Levant ma coupe, je salue la lune:

Avec mon ombre, nous sommes trois.

La lune pourtant ne sait point boire.

C'est en vain que l'ombre me suit.

Honorons cependant ombre et lune:

La joie ne dure qu'un printemps!

Je chante et la lune musarde,

Je danse et mon ombre s'йbat.

Йveillйs, nous jouissons l'un de l'autre.

Ivres, chacun va son chemin...

Retrouvailles sur la Voie lactйe:

А jamais, randonnйe sans attaches!

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poйmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.213.

Drinking alone with the Moon

A pot of wine among the flowers.

I drink alone, no friend with me.

I raise my cup to invite the moon.

He and my shadow and I make three.

The moon does not know how to drink;

My shadow mimes my capering;

But I'll make merry with them both -

And soon enough it will be Spring.

I sing - the moon move to and fro.

I dance - my shadow leaps and sways.

Still sober, we exchange our joys.

Drunk - and we'll go our separate ways.

Let's pledge - beyond human ties - to be friends,

And meet where the Silver River ends.

In: SETH, Vikram, Three Chinese Poets: Translations of poems by Wang Wei, Li Bai and Du Fu, London - Boston, Faber and Faber, 1992, p.27.

29 麻鞋見天子， Maxie jian Tianzi (Tu Fu: Shu huai·).

30 眼枯即見骨，天地終無情 yanku ji jian gu, tiandi zhong wuqing (Tu Fu: Si-an li·).

31 嵗晚或相逢，青天騎白龍 Suiwan huo xiangfeng, qingtian qi bailong (Li Po: Song Yang-shan-jen kui Songshan·).

32 青天碧於水，畫船聼雨鳴 Qingtian bi yu tian, huanchuan ting yu ming (Wei Chuang: Pu-sa man·).

33 誰家今夜扁舟子，何處相思明月樓 Shuijia jinye bianzhouzi, hechu xiangsi mingyuelou. It is relevant to give here the translations of these two verses. The marquis d'Hervey Saint-Denis: "Nul ne sait mкme qui je suis, sur cette barque voyageuse /Nul ne sait si cette mкme lune йclaire, au loin, un pavillon oщ on songe а moi. ";in the Anthologie de la poйsie chinoise classique: "A qui donc appartient la petite barque qui vogue en cette nuit? / Oщ donc retrouver la maison dans le clair de lune oщ l'on songe а l'absent?"; by Charles Budel: "In yonder boat some traveller sails tonight / Beneath the moon which links his thoughts with home."; and by W. J. B. Fletcher: "To-night who floats upon the tiny skiff? / from what high tower yeans out upon the night / the dear beloved in the pale moonlight…".

34 [See: Part II, p.205].

CH'ANG CHIEN 常建

破山寺後禪院

清晨入古寺

初日照高林

曲徑通幽處

禪房花木紳

山光悦鳥性

潭影空人心

萬籁此俱寂

惟餘鐘磬音

Au monastиre de Po-shan

Matin clair / pйnйtrer temple antique

Soleil naissant / йclairer hauts arbres

Sentier sinueux / communiquer lieu secret

Chambre de Ch'an / fleurs-plantes profondes

Lumiиre de montagne /jouir humeur des oiseaux

Ombre de l'йtang / vider cœur de l'homme

Dis mille bruits/а la fois silencieux

Seul rester/son de pierre musicale

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.205.

At the Hall of Silence in the Monastery of the Broken Hill Zen Temple

I set out to enter the old monastery in the freshness of early morning.

The early sun shines down upon high woods,

A winding path leads to this place of quiet.

Here deep among the flowers and trees is the cell of contemplation;

In the sunlight behind the monastery the birds are enjoying themselves,

The shadows on the pool purge the mind,

All the noise of the world is stilled;

All I hear are the sounds of the Ch'ing and the monastery bell.

In: JENYNS, Soame, trans., A Further Selection from the Three Hundred Poems of the T'ang Dynasty, London, John Murray, 1944, pp.58-59.

35 It is relevant to give here the translations of these two verses. The marquis d' Hervey Saint-Denis : "Dиs que la montagne s'illumine, les oiseaux, tout а la nature, se rйveillaient joyeux: / l'oeil contemple des eaux limpides et profondes, comme les pensйes de l 'homme dont le cњur s 'est йpurй."; H. A. Giles: "Around these hills sweet birds their pleasure take / Man's heart as free from shadow as this lake."; W. Brynner: "'Here birds are alive with mountain-light / And the mind of man touches peace in a pool."; W. J. B. Fletcher: "Hark! The birds rejoicing in the mountain light / Like one'sdim reflection on a pool at night / Lo! The heart is melted wav'ring out of sight."; R. Payne: "The mountain colours have made the birds sing / the shadows in the pool empty the hearts of men."

36 [See: Part II, p.198].

TU FU 杜甫

旅夜書懷

細草微風岸

危檣獨夜舟

星垂平野闊

月湧大江流

名豈文章著

官應老病休

飄飄何所似

天地一沙鷗

Pensйe d'une nuit en voyage

Herbes menues / brise lйgиre berge

Mat vacillant / nuit solitaire barque

Astres tombant / vaste plaine s' йlargir

Lune surgissant / grand fleuve couler

Renom oщ donc / œuvres йcrites s'imposer

Mandarin devoir/vieux malade se retirer

Flottant flottant /а quoi ressembler

Ciel-terre / une mouette de sable

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.198.

Night Thoughts Afloat

By bent grasses

in a gentle wind

Under straight mast

I'm alone tonight,

And the stars hang

above the broad plain

But the moon's afloat

in this Great River:

Oh, where's my name

among the poets?

Official rank?

'Retired for ill-health.'

Drifting, drifting,

what am I more than

A single gull

between sky and earth?

In: LI Po - TU Fu, COOPER, Arthur, trans, intro. and anot., Li Po and Tu Fu, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1988, p.237.

37 It is relevant to give here the translations of these two verses. J. Liu: "The stars drooping, the wild plane is vast / the moon rushing, the great river flows."; W. J. B. Fletcher: "The wide-flung stars overhang all vasty space / the moonbeams with the Yangtze's current race."; K. Rexroth: "Stars blossom over the vast desert waters / Moonlight flows on the surging rivers."

38 See: III, pp. 60-64 - For the analysis of this poem.

39 [See: Part. II, p.203].

LI SHAN-YIN 李商隱

馬嵬

海外徒聞更九州

他生未卜此生休

空閑虎旅傳宵柝

無復雞人報曉籌

此日六軍同駐馬

當时七夕笑牽牛

如何四紀爲天子

不及盧家有莫愁

Ma-wei

Per delб les mers en vain apprendre / Neuf contrйes changer

L'autre vie non prйdite / cette vie arrкtйe

En vain entendre gardes-tigres/ battre cloches de bois

Ne plus revenir homme-coq / annoncer arrivйe de l'aube

Aujourd'hui Six armйes / ensemble arrкter chevaux

L'autre nuit Double Sept/rire Bouvier-Tisserande

Pourquoi donc quatre dкcades / кtre Fils du Ciel

Ne valoir point fils de Lu / avec Sans-Souci

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.203.

Ma-wei

An empty rumour, that second world beyond the seas

Other lives we cannot divine, this life is finished.

In vain she hears the Tiger Guards sound the night rattle,

Never again shall the Cock Man come to report the sunrise.

This is the day when six armies conspire to halt their horses:

The Seventh Night of another year mocked the Herdboy Star.

What matter that for decades he was the Son of Heaven?

He is less than Lu who married Never Grieve.

In: GRAHAM, A. C., trans. and intro., Poems of the Late T'ang, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1965, p. pp.163-164.

40 This is the term used by R. Jakobson in his work: Shifters, verbal categories and the russian verb.

41 [See: Part II, p. 179].

LI PO李白

送友人

青山横北郭

白水遶東城

此地一爲别

孤蓬萬里征

浮雲游子意

落日故人情

揮手自茲去

蕭蕭班馬鳴

Adieu а un ami qui part

Mont vert/border rempart du Nord

Eau blanche / entourer muraille de I'Est

De ce lieu/un fois se sйparer

Herbe solitaire /sux dix mille li errer

Nuages flottants /humeur du vagabond

Soleil couchant/sentiment de l'ami ancient

Agiter mains/en cet instant partir

Hsiao-hsiao/chevaux seuls hennir

In: CHENG, Franзois, I'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.179.

Taking Leave of a Friend

Blue mountains lie beyond the north wall;

Round the city's eastern side flows the white water.

Here we part, friend, once forever.

You go ten thousand miles, drifting away

Like an unrooted water-grass.

Oh, the floating clouds and the thoughts of a wanderer!

Oh, the sunset and the longing of an old friend!

We ride away from each other, waving our hands,

While our horses neigh softly, softly...

In: OBATA, Shigeyoshi, The Works of Li Po the Chinese Poet done into English verse by hi Obata with an introduction and biographical and critical matter translated from the Chinese, New York City, E. P. Dutton & Co., 1922, p.94.

42 明月籠中鳥，乾坤水上萍 Riyue longzhong niao, qiankun shuishang ping (Tu Fu: Heng-chou song Li taifu•).

43 [See: Part. II, p.163].

LI SHAN-YIN 李商隱

嫦娥

雲母屏風燭影紳

長河漸落曉星沈

嫦娥應悔偷靈藥

碧海青天夜夜心

Ch'ang O

Mica paravent /ombre de chandelle s'obscurcir

Long Fleuve peu а peu s'incliner/йtoile du matin sombrer

Ch'ang 0 devoir regretter / dйrober drogue d'immortalitй

Mer йmeraude ciel azur / nuit-nuit cœur

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.203.

The Lady in the Moon (I) Ch'ang O

The lamp glows deep in the mica screen.

The long river descends, the morning star drowns.

Is Ch'ang O sorry that she stole the magic herb,

Between the blue sky and the emerald sea, thinking night after night?

In: GRAHAM, A. C., trans. and intro., Poems of the Late T'ang, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1965, p.155.

44 [See: Part. II, p.210].

WEN T'ING-YЬN 溫庭筠

商山早行

晨起動征鐸

客行悲故鄉

雞聲茅店月

人跡板橋霜

槲葉落山路

枳花明驛

因思杜陵夢

凫鳬雁滿迴塘

Dйpart а l'aube sur le mont Shang

Se lever а l'aube / agiter grelots de mulets

Hommes en voyage / regretter pays natal

Chant de coq / auberge de chaumes lune

Traces de pas /pont de bois givre

Feuilles de hu / tomber route de montagne

Fleurs de chih /йclairer mur de relais

Encore penser / rкve de Tu-ling

Oies sauvages / parsemer йtang en mйandres

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.170.

Setting out Early from Mount Shang

At dawn I rise, stirring my carriage bells.

This traveler goes on, grieving for his home.

Cry of the cock, moon on the thatched inn;

Tracks of someone, frost on the plank bridge.

Oak leaves fall on the mountain road;

Orange blossoms brighten the post-station wall.

And I long for my Dulin dream;

Ducks and geese fill the curving pool.

In: ROUZER, Paul F., Writing Another's Dream: The Poetry of Wen Tingyun, Standford/California, Standford University Press, 1993, p. 18.

45 星河秋一雁，砧杵夜秋家 Xinghe qiu yiyan, zhanchu ye qiujia

46 五湖三畝宅，萬里一歸人 Wuhu san mu zhai, wanli yi gui (Wang Wei: Song Chiu Wei lui-ti·).

47 老年復道路，遲日復山川 Laonian fu daolu, chiri fu shanchuan (Tu Fu: Hsing-ts'u ku-ch'eng·).

48 黃葉乃風雨，青樓自管弦 Huangye nai fengyu, qinglou zi guanxian (Li Shang-yin: Feng yь·).

49 幽薊餘蛇豕，乾坤尚虎狼 Youji yu sheshi, qiankun shang hulang (Tu Fu: You kan·).

50 生理何顏面，憂端且嵗時 Shengli he yanmian, youduan qie suishi (Tu Fu: Te ti hsiao-hsi·).

51 [See: Part. II, p.197].

TU FU 杜甫

江漢

江漢思歸客

乾坤一腐儒

片雲天共遠

永夜月同孤

落日心猶壮

秋風病欲蘇

古來存老馬

不必取長途

Yang-tse et Han

Yang-tse et Han/ voyageur rкvant de retour

Ciel-terre / un lettrй dйmuni

Nuage mince/ciel avec lointain

Nuit longue / lune ensemble solitaire

Soleil sombrant / cœur encore ardent

Vent automnal / maladie presque guйrie

Depuis l'antiquitй / conserver vieux cheval

Pas nйcessairement / mйriter longue route

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 197.

Chiang-han

Traveling Chiang-han, love savant spent

Between Heaven and Earth, I dream return.

A flake of cloud sky's distance, night

Remains timeless in the moon's solitude.

My heart grows still at dusk.

In autumn wind, I am nearly healed. Long ago,

Old horses were given refuge, not sent out.

The long road is not all they're good for.

In: HINTON, David, The selected poems of Tu Fu, New York, New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1989, p.106.

52 [See: Part. II, p.175].

WANG WEI 王維

過香積寺

不知香積寺

數里入雲峰

古木無人徑

紳山何處鐘

泉聲咽危石

日色冷青松

薄暮空潭曲

安禪制毒龍

En passant par le temple au Parfum-Cachй

Ne point connaоtre /temple au Parfum-Cachй

Plusieurs li/pйnйtrer pic nuageux

Bois antique / nulle trace sentier

Montagne profonde / quel lieu cloche

Bruit de source/sangloter rochers dresses

Couleur du soleil / fraоchir pins verts

Vers le soir / lac vide au dйtour

Mйditant Ch 'an / dompter dragon venimeux

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.175.

Visting Hsiangchi Temple

I didn't know Hsiangchi Temple

And went miles into cloudy peaks

Between ancient trees, no tracks of man-

Where was that bell deep in the hills?

Sound of a stream choking on sharp rocks

Sun cool coloured among green pines -

At dusk beside a deserted pool, a monk

Meditating to subdue the poisonous dragon.

In: WANG Wei, ROBINSON, G. W. trans. and intro., Wang Wei: Poems, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1973, p.94.

53 [See: Part. II, p.195].

TU FU 杜甫

詠懷古跡

群山萬壑赴荆門

生長明妃尚有村

一去紫臺連朔漠

獨留青塚向黃昏

畫圖省識春風面

環珮空歸月下魂

千年琵琶作胡語

分明怨恨曲中論

Sites anciens

Multiples montagnes dix-mille vallйes / parvenir а Ching-men,

Naоtre grandir Dame lumineuse /encore y avoir village

Une fois quitter Terrasse Pourpre / а mкme dйsert nordique

Seul rester Tombeau Vert/face au crйpuscule jaune

Tableau peint mal reconnaоtre / visage de brise printaniиre

Amulettes de jade en vain retourner / вme de nuit lunaire

Mille annйes p 'i-p'a /chargй d 'accents barbares

Clairs distincts griefs-regrets/en son chant rйsonner

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 195.

Thoughts on an Ancient Site

Flock-mountains myriad-valleys arrive Ching-men

Bore-bred Ming-fei still there-is village

Once departed purple-terrace continuous northern-desert

Only leave Green-grave face twilight

Portraits have recorded spring-wind face

Girdle-jade vainly returns moon-light soul

Thousand years guitar makes Hunnish talk

Just-like resentment tune-in discussed

In: HAWKES, David, A Little Primer of Tu Fu, Hong Kong, The Chinese University of Hong Kong - The Oxford University Press, 1994, pp.176-177.

54 This can be verified in the modern oral language, still presently spoken.

55 [See: Part. II, pp.182-183]

TU FU 杜甫

春望

國破山河在

城春草木紳

感時花濺淚

恨别鳥驚心

烽火連三月

家書抵萬金

白頭搔更短

渾欲不勝簪

Printemps catif

Pays briser / mont-fleuve demeurer

Ville printemps / herbes-plantes foisonner

Regretter йpoque /fleurs verser larmes

Maudire sйparation /oiseaux sursauter cњur

Flammes de guerre / continuer trois mois

Lettres de famille / valoir mille onces d'or

Cheveux blanchis / gratter plus rares

A tel point / ne plus supporter йpingle

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 182.

Looking at Springtime

In fallen States hills and streams are found,

Cities have Spring, grass and leaves abound;

Though at such times flowers might drop tears

Parting from mates, birds have hidden fears:

The beacon fires have now linked three moons,

Making home news worth ten thousand coins;

An old grey head scratched at each mishap

Has dwindling hair, does not fit its cap!

In: LI Po - TU Fu, COOPER, Arthur, trans, intro. and anot., Li Po and Tu Fu, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1988, p. 171.

56 [See: Part. II, p.114]

WANG WEI 王維

鳥鳴澗

人閒桂花落

夜靜春山空

月出驚山鳥

時鳴春澗中

Torrent au chant d'oiseau

Homme au repos / fleurs de cannelier tomber

Nuit calme /montagne printaniиre кtre vide

Lune surgissant / effrayer oiseau du mont

Parfois crier/dans le torrent de printemps

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.114.

Birds calling in the valley

Men at rest, cassia flowers falling

Night still, spring hills empty

The moon rises, rouses birds in the hills

And sometimes they cry in the spring valley

In: WANG Wei, ROBINSON, G. W. trans. and intro., Wang Wei: Poems, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1973, p.55.

57 Well before the definition of the 'four tones' by Shen Yue· (AD°441-†513), the poets instinctively made use of tonal distinctions.

58 According to Wang Li• in his Han-yь shih-lь hsьeh.•

59 The following diagrams correspond solely to the first half of a pentasyllabic lь-shih - the second half being identical to the first.

60 See: JAKOBSON, R., Le dessin prosodique dans le vers rйgulier chinois. [sic]

61 See: DOWNER, G. B. - GRAHAM, A. C., Tone patterns in chinese poetry. [sic] - Where this diagram was first proposed.

62 See: III., pp. 50-54 - Regarding the metaphorical images.

[Also see: Part II, p. 132].

LI PO 李白

玉階怨

玉階生白露

夜久侵羅襪

卻下水晶簾

玲瓏望秋月

Complainte du perron de jade

Perron de jade / naоtre rosйe blanche

Tard dans la nuit / pйnйtrer bas de soie

Cependant baisser / store de erystal

Par transparence / regarder lune d'automne

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 132.

Marble Stairs Grievance

On Marble Stairs still grows the white dew

That has all night soaked her silk slippers,

But she lets down her crystal blind now

And sees through glaze the moon of autumn

In: Li Po-TU Fu, COOPER, Arthur, trans., intro., anot., Li Po and Tu Fu, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1988, p.112.

63 Corresponds to Li Yь's first strophe of his Lang-t'aosha.·

See: Anthologie de la poйsie chinoise classique: "Derriиre rideaux, la pluie sans fin clapote. /La vertu du printemps s'йpuise./Sous la housse de soie, l'intolйrable froid de la cinquiиme veille! / Quand je rкve j'oublie que se suis en exil. /Doux rйconfort tant attendu!"

64 Han Yu: T'ing Ying-shih t'an-ch'in.•

65 Li Ch'ing-chao: Sheng-sheng man.•

66 [See: Part. II, p.186].

TU FU 杜甫

聞官軍收河南河北

劍外忽傳收薊北

初聞涕淚滿衣裳

卻看妻子愁何在

漫卷詩書喜欲狂

白日放歌須緃酒

青春作伴好還鄉

即從巴峽穿巫峡

便下襄陽向洛陽

En apprenant que l'armйe impйriale a repris le Ho-nan et le Ho-pei [74]

Par delа l'Йpйe soudain rapporter/ rйcupйrer Chi-pei[83]

А peine entendre flots de larmes /inonder habits

Cependant regarder femme-enfants / tristesse oщ setrouver

Fйbrilement enrouler poиmes-йcrits /joie а rendre fou

Jour clair chanter а pleine voix / de plus boire sans retenue

Printemps vert se tenir compagnier /pour retourner au pays

Alors depuis gorges de Pa / enfiler gorges de Wu

Et puis descendre Hsiang-yang / vers Luo-yang [66]

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 186.

On learning of the Recovery of Honan and Hopei by the Imperial Army

Chien-beyond suddenly is-reported recovering Chi-pei

First hear tears cover clothing

Turn-back look-at wife-children sorrow where is

Carelessly roll poems-writings glad about-to-become crazy

White-sun let-go-singing must give-way-twine

Green-spring act-as companion good-to returnhome

Immediately from Pa-gorge traverse Lu-gorge.

Then down-to Hsiang-yang on-to Lo-yang

In: HAWKES, David, A Little Primer of Tu Fu, Hong Kong, The Chinese University of Hong Kong-The Oxford University Press, 1994, pp. 176-177.

67 See: II, p. 38 [and Part. II, p.205]. The diagonal dash (/) corresponds to the caesura. See: Note 34.

68 [See: Part. II, p. 172].

WANG WEI 王維

山居秋暝

空山新雨後

天氣晚來秋

明月松間照

清泉石上流

竹喧歸浣女

蓮動下漁舟

隨意春芳歇

王孫自可留

Soir d'automne en montagne

Montagne dйserte /aprиs pluie nouvelle

Air du ciel / vers le soir automne

Lune claire / parmi les pins luire

Source limpide / sur les rochers couler

Bambous bruire / rentrer lavandiиres

Lotus agiter / descendre barque de pкcheur

Ici ou lб / fragance printaniиre au repos

Noble seigneur/en soi pouvoir rester

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 172.

In the hills at nightfall in autumn

In the empty hills just after the rain

The evening air is autumn now

Bright moon shining between pines

Clear stream flowing over stones

Bamboos clatter - the washerwoman goes home

Lotuses shift - the fisherman's boat floats down

Of course spring scents must fail

But you, my friend, you must stay.

In: WANG Wei, ROBINSON, G. W. trans. and intro., Wang Wei: Poems, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1973, p.75.

69 [See: Part. II, p.173].

WANG WEI 王維

使至塞上

單車欲問邊

屬国過居延

征蓬出漢塞

歸鴈入胡天

大漠孤煙直

長河落日圓

簫關逢候騎

都護在燕然

En mission а la frontiиre

Carrosse seul / se rendre а la frontiиre

Pays dйpendant / par-delа Chь-yan

Herbe-errante /sortir dйfenses des Han

Oies de retour / pйnйtrer ciel barbare

Immense dйsert / solitaire fumйe droite

Long fleuve / sombrant soleil rond

Passe de Hsiao / rencontrant patrouille

Quartier gйnйral / au mont des Hirondelles

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise/suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 173.

On a mission to the frontier

Off in a single carriage on my mission to the frontier

For dependencies beyond Chьyen now

I am carried like thistledown out from the Han defenses

And wild geese are flying back to the savage waste

From the Gobi one trail of smoke straight up

In the long river the falling sun is round

At Hsiao Pass I meet our patrols

Headquarters are on Mount Yenjan.

In: WANG Wei, ROBINSON, G. W. trans. and intro., Wang Wei: Poems, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1973, p.75.

70 江流天地外，山色有無中 Jiangliu tiandi wai, shanse youwu zhong (Wang Wei: Han-chiang lin fan·).

71 [See: Part II, p.107].

WANG CHIH-HUAN 王之渙

登鸛雀樓

白日依山盡

黃河入海流

欲窮千里目

更上一層樓

Du haut du pavillon des Cigognes

Soleil blanc / le long des monts disparaоtre

Fleuve Jaune /jusqu'а lamer couler

Dйsirer йpuiser / mile li vue

Encore monter / un йtage

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 107.

An Ascent to Stork Hall

The setting sun behind the mountain glows,

The muddy Yellow River reawards flows.

If more distant views are what you desire,

You simply climb up a storey higher.

In: XU Zhongjie, trans., ed., 200 Chinese Tang Poems in English Verse, Beijing, Beijing Languages College Publishers, 1990, p.32.

72 WANG Li, Hanyu shih-kao•-- For a lenghty discussion of this problem.

73 It is impossible to progress at any length on the problem of syntactical transgressions allowed by 'parallelism' without making a hiatus on the discussion of the lь-shih. For those who read Chinese we strongly recommend the relevant sections of Wang Li's Han-yь shih-lь hsьeh. The following is a very succint explanation of the three typologies in which can be classified the T'ang poets' researches struggling to invent other ordres verbaux (verbal sequences).

1. Ordre Perceptif (Perceptive Sequence):

The poet organises words not according to the usual syntax but in a sequence which attempts to be the explicit reflection of his succession of perceptive images (of a landscape, a sensation, etc.). The following verses are an example of an excursion by the poet Tu Shen-yen· to the southern shore of the mouth of the Yang-tze River, at dawn. The sequence of the words suggests the images gradually seen by the poet as he moves along: images of the rising sun, and of vegetation which turning colours announces the passing a seasonal transition - on both sides of the river:

雲霞出海曙 Yunxia chu haishu

梅柳渡春江 Meiliu du chunjiang

"Nuages lumiиre apparaоtre mer aurore

Pruniers saules franchir fleuve printemps "

("Clouds light appears sea dawn

Plum trees willow trees cross river spring")

Without any previous warning, sometimes the poet selects a striking image as his starting point in the phrase: a scenario, a colour, a flavour which 'provokes' sensations and rememberances - as if all erupts from this striking image. The following examples are from different poems by Tu Fu:

1.1. 寺憶曾游處 Si yi ceng you chu

橋憐再度時 Qiao lian zai du shi

"Temple se rappeler jadis visiter lieu

Pont aimer а nouveau traverser moment"

("Temple remember long ago visit place

Bridge love again go across moment")

1.2. 青惜峰巒過 Qing xi fengluan guo

黃知橘柚來 Huang zhi juyou lai

"Vert regretter monts et collines dйpasser

Jaune pressentir forкt d'orangers approcher"

("Green regret mountains and hills go beyond Yellow foresense forest of orange trees come close")

1.3. 滑憶彫胡飯 hua yi diaohu fan

香聞錦帶羹 xiang wen jindai geng

"Veloutй savourer riz aux champignons "torsadйs"

Parfum humer soupe aux herbes "brodйes""

("Velvety taste "spiralling" mushrooms' rice

Perfume inhale "embroidered" herb soup")

In other cases what the poet attempts to establish is a still condition rather than a succession of images:

白花簷外朵 Baihua yanwai duo

青柳檻前梢 Qingliu kanqian shao

" Saules tendres branches

Fleurs blanchescalices"

("Gentle willows branches

White flowers calixes")

In these two verses the elements outside the box [before and after] constitute discontinued signifiers. Between them, the poet integrates the images of "doorstep" and the "canopy" in order to visually define the intrusion of human presence in Nature (or inversely, the invasion of the human 'territory' by Nature). Through a deliberate placing of words the poet reconstitutes a situation as it is actually seen by him.

2. Ordre inversй (Inverted Sequence):

Here, the sequence is built by inverting, in one phrase, the subject and the object. More than the immediate achievement of a figure of style, one can sense in this procedure • the desire to disturb the order of the world and to create a further relationship between things.

香稻啄餘鸚鵡粒 Xiangdao zhuoyu yingwu li

碧桐棲老鳳凰枝 Nitong qilao fenghuang zhi

"Riz parfumй picoter finir perroquet graines

Platane vert percher vieilli phйnix branches "

("Rice perfumed peck finish parrot seeds

Green banana tree perch aged phoenix branches")

Reading this very famous distich by Tu Fu, the reader rapidly understands that it is not the "rice" that "pecks" the "parrot" nor is the "banana tree" that is "perched" on the "phoenix". It should be underlined that, most frequently, poets 'dare' to attempt this type of distortion in 'parallel' verses, as the mutual justification between the verses removes what might seem to be 'fortuitous' or 'arbitrary'.

客病留因藥 Kebing liu yin hua

春深買爲花 Chunshen mai wei hua

"Voyageur malade conserver en raison des mйdicaments,

Printemps tardif acheter а cause des fleurs"

("Ill traveller preserve due to medicaments,

"Late spring buy because of flowers")

The verses mean: "Being frequently ill in my exile, I conserve the medicaments; I buy flowers in an attempt to arrest the passing of spring". The inversion of the subject and the object gives to the verses a disillusioned nuance laced with humour.

永憶江湖歸白髪 Yongyi jianghu gui baifa

欲迴天地入扁舟 Yuhui tiandi ru bianzhou

"Longtemps regretter fleuve-lac retourner cheveux blancs

Toujours errer ciel-terre pйnйtrer barque lйgиre"

("For a long time regret river-lake turn white hair Always wander Heaven-Earth penetrate light boat")

Instead of the "white hair" (exiled) images which are 'scattered' between a "river" and a "lake", and the "light boat" lost between "Heaven" and "Earth", the poet Li Shang-yin, through an inversion procedure, strongly defines the action of Nature over mankind.

3. Ordre dйsagrйgй (Desaggregated Sequence)

In this type of sequence the poet attempts to create a 'total' image by mixing 'cause' and 'effect' in an apparently arbitrary way, and where all elements are confused or anihilated as if in a priviliged manner. Each dynamic phrase where a sign is part of a network in incessant transformation, acquires a new meaning after each change.

地侵山影掃 Di qin shanying sao

葉帶露痕畫 Ye dai luhen hua

"Terrain pйnйtrer montagne ombre balayer

Feuilles entacher rosйe traces inscrire "

("Land penetrate mountain shadow sweep

Leaves spots dew traces inscribe")

In order to give meaning to these verses by Chia Tao·, we provoke a chained transformation to the first verse:

Land penetrate mountain shadow sweep →

Penetrate mountain shadow sweep land →

Mountain shadow sweep land penetrate →

Shadow sweep land penetrate mountain →

Sweep land penetrate mountain shadow →

The moral tone of the last phrase throws light on what the poet attempts to convey: "sweeping" the "land" in front of his abode he "penetrates" onto the "shadow" projected by the "mountain". Applying the same procedure to the second verse, we will arrive at:

Inscribe leaves spots dew traces

The poet "inscribes" verses of "leaves" (of a banana tree, probably) all "spoted" with "dew". In the same spirit, in an attempt to describe a landscape ["green"] where a strong "wind" destroys ["break"] tender "bamboo" shoots drooping ("hanging") their leaves and where drenched "prunus" tree flowers "blossom", their pink ["red"] petals (and we draw attention to the erotic connotation of the situation), Tu Fu changes the 'natural' sequence of the words in order to destroy all connotations with 'past' and 'future', thus establishing an immediate and total image:

綠垂風折筍 Lь chui feng zhe sun

紅綻雨肥梅 Hong zhan yu fei mei

"Vert suspendre vent se casser bambous

Rouge йclater pluie s 'йpanouir prunus "

("Green hanging wind break bamboos

Red burst rain blossom prunus")

74 [See: Part. II, p.186].

See: Note 66.

75 [See: Part. II, p.195].

See: Notes 53 and 95.

76 [See: Part. II, p.168].

TS'UI HAO 崔顥

黃鶴樓

昔人已乘黃鶴去

此地空餘黃鶴樓

黃鶴一去不復返

白雲千載空悠悠

晴川歷歷漢陽樹

芳草萋萋鸚鵡洲

日暮鄉關何處是

煙波江上使人愁

Le pavillon de la Grue jaune

Les Ancients dйjа chevauchant / Grue Jaune partir

Ce lieu en vain rester / pavillon de la Grue Jaune

Grue Jaune une fois partie / ne plus revenir

Nuages blancs mille annйes / planer lointain-lointain

Fleuve ensoleillй distinct-distinct / arbres de Han-yang

Herbe parfumйe, foisonnante-foisonnante / Ile des Perroquets

Soleil couchant pays natal/oщ donc est-ce

Vagues brumeuses sur le fleuve / accabler de tristesse homme

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 168.

The Yellow Crane Hall

The sage, astride the Yellow Crane, flew away.

A singular void, the whole place now betray.

The Yellow Crane has, for certain, gone for good.

White clouds have long o'espread the Hall, like a hood.

This fine weather, trees in Hanyang can be seen.

Grass on Parrot Isle is growing rank and green.

Where is my hometown at this approach of eve!

At the mist o'er the stream, I cannot but grieve.

In: Xu Zhongjie, trans., ed., 200 Chinese Tang Poems in English Verse, Beijing, Beijing Languages College Publishers, 1990, p.51.

77 [See: Part. II, pp.226-227].

TU FU 杜甫

石壕吏

暮投石壕村

有吏夜捉人

老翁踰 走

老婦出門看

吏呼一何怒

婦啼一何苦

聼婦前致詞

三男鄴城戍

一男附書至

二男新戰死

存者且偷生

死者長已矣

室中更無人

惟有乳下孫

有孫母未去

出入無完裙

老嫗力雖衰

請從吏夜歸

急應河陽役

猶得備晨炊

夜久語聲絕

如聞泣幽咽

天明登前途

獨與老翁别

Le recruteur de Shih-hao

Je passe la nuit au village de Shih-hao.

Un recruteur vient s'emparer des gens.

Escaladant le mur, le vieillard s'enfuit,

Sa vieille femme va ouvrir la porte:

Cris d'officier, colйreux,

Pleurs de femme, amers.

Elle parle enfin. Je prкte l'oreille:

"Mes trois fils sont partis pour Yeh-ch'eng.

L'un d'eux а pu envoyer un message:

Les deus autres sont morts au combat.

Le survivant tentera de survivre,

Les morts sont morts, hйlas, pour toujours!

Dans la maison, il n'y а plus personne,

A part le petit qu'on allaite encore.

C'est pour lui que sa mиre est restйe:

Pas une jupe entiиre pour sortir!

Moi, je suis vieille, j'ai l'air faible,

Mais je demande de vous suivre

A la corvйe de Ho-yang. Dйjа

Je peux faire le repas du matin."

Au milieu de la nuit, les bruits cessent

On entend comme un sanglot cachй...

Le jour pointe, je reprends ma route:

Au vieillard, seul, j'ai pu dire adieu.

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, pp.226-227.

The Conscription Officer at Shih-hao

It was late, but out in the night

when I arrived, he was collaring men.

Her husband, the old inn-keeper, slipped

over the wall, and she went to the gate.

The officer cursed loud and long, lost in

his rage. And lost in grief, an old woman

palsied with tears, she began offering

regrets: My three sons left for Yeh.

Then finally, from one, a letter arrived

full of news: two dead now. Living

a stolen life, my last son can't last,

and those dead now are forever dead and

gone. Not a man left, only my little

grandson still at his mother's breast.

Coming ang going, hardly half a remnant

skirt to put on, she can't leave him

yet. I'm old and weak, but I could hurry

to Ho-yang with you tonight. If you 'd

let me, I could be there in time,

cook an early meal for our brave boys.

Later, in the long night, voices fade.

I almost hear crying hush - silence...

And morning, come bearing my farewells,

I find no one but the old man to leave.

In: HINTON, David, The selected poems of Tu Fu, New York, New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1989, pp.36-37.

78 We use the terms 'metaphors' and 'symbolic imagery' in a general sense. (See the examples given in the following paragraph). The intention is not to extricate isolated figurations but to analyse how images successively unfold and what is the working system of the language derived from this succession.

79 [See: Part II, p.185].

TU FU 杜甫

月夜

今夜鄜州月

閨中只獨看

遥憐小兒女

未解憶長安

香霧雲鬟濕

清輝玉臂寒

何時倚虚幌

雙照淚痕乾

Nuit de lune

Cette nuit / lune sur Fu-chou

Dans le gynйcйe / seule а regarder

De loin chйrir / petits fils-filles

Non encore capables de / se rapeller Longue-paix

Brume parfumйe / chignon de nuage mouiller

Clartй pure /bras de jade fraоchir

Quel moment / s'appuyer contre rideau

Йclairer а deux / traces de larmes sйcher

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.185.

Moonlit night

To-night Fu-chou moon

My-wife can-only alone watch

distant sorry-for little sons-daughters

Not-yet understand remember Ch'ang-an

Fragant mist cloud-hair wet

Clear light jade-arms cold

What-time lean empty curtain

Double-shine tear-marks dry

In: HAWKES, David, A Little Primer of Tu Fu, Hong Kong, The Chinese University of Hong Kong-The Oxford University Press, 1994, pp.31-32.

80朱門酒肉臭，路有凍死骨 Zhumen jiurou chou, luyou dongsi gu (Tu Fu: Tsu ching fu Feng-hsien-hsien yong-huai wu-pai tsu).

In these two verses the images of "red doors" and "winemeat" are to be taken as synecdoches while that of "roads" is to be assimilated to a metonym. But... once again, we would like to make it clear that we are concerned in classifying matters.

81[See: Part. II, p.192].

TU FU 杜甫

春夜喜雨

好雨知時詳

當春乃發生

隨風潛入夜

潤物細無聲

野徑雲俱黑

江船火獨明

曉看紅濕處

花重錦官城

Bonne pluie, une nuit de printemps

Bonne pluie /connaоtre saison propice

Au printemps /alors favoriser vie

Suivre vent/furtive pйnйtrer nuit

Humecter objects/dйlicate sans bruit

Sentiers sauvages / nuages tout noirs

Barque fluviale /fanal seul lumineux

А l'aube regarder/ endroit rouge mouillй

Fleurs alourdies / Mandarin-en-robe-de-brocart

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.192.

Spring Night, Delighted by Rain

Lovely rains, knowing their season,

Always appear in spring. Entering night

Secretly on the wind, they silently

Bless things with such delicate abundance.

Clouds fill country lanes with darkness,

The one light a riverboat lamp. Then

Dawn's view opens: all bathed reds, our

Blossom-laden City of Brocade Officers.

In: HINTON, David, The selected poems of Tu Fu, New York, New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1989, p.61.

82 [See: Part. II, p.185].

See: Note 79.

83 [See: Part. II, pp.186-187].

See: Note 66.

84 See: Anthologie de la poйsie chinoise classique - for a [French] translation of this long poem.

85 襄王雲雨今何在，江水東流猿夜啼 Xiangwang yunyu jin hezai, jiangshui dongliu yuan yeti (Li Po: Hs iang-yang ke·).

86 [See: Part. II, p.153].

TU MU 杜牧

遣懷

落魄江南載酒行

楚腰腸斷掌中輕

十年一覺揚州夢

赢得青樓薄倖名

Aveu

Ame sombrйe fleuve-lac / portant vin balader

Taille de Ch'u entrailles brisйes / corps lйger dans la paume

Dix annйes un sommeil / rкve de Yang-chou

Gagner parmi les pavillons-verts / renom de l'homme sans cœur

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.153.

In Idle Meditation

Down and out I wander over the waters with a supply of wine,

The girls here are like the wasp-waisted beauties of Ch'u,

So light that they could dance on the palm of one's hand.

For ten years I have lived besotted in Yang Chou,

And now all that I have to show for it is the reputation for a night-of-love in the houses of ill fame.

In: JENYNS, Soame, trans., Selections from the Three Hundred Poems of the T'ang Dynasty, London, John Murray, 1940, pp.44-45.

87 誰驚一行雁，衝斷過江雲 Shui jing yi hang yan, chong duan guo jiang yun (Tu Mu: Chiang lou·).

88 [See: Part. II. p.125].

WANG CH'ANG-LING 王昌齡

宮怨

閨中少婦不知愁

春日凝妝上翠樓

忽見陌頭楊柳色

悔教夫婿覓封侯

Complainte du palais

Dans le gynйcйe jeune femme / ne pas connaоtre chagrin

Jour printanier se parer / monter йtage en bleu

Soudain apercevoir sur le chemin /couleur de saules

Regretter avoir laissй йpoux / chercher titre nobiliaire

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 125.

Grief in the Ladies' Apartments

In the women's apartments is a young woman who does not know sorrow.

On a spring day she paints her face and goes up to the kingfisher tower.

Suddenly she notices the willow buds are bursting along the paths

And she regrets she has sent away her husband in search of military glory.

In: JENYNS, Soame, trans., Selections from the Three Hundred Poems of the T'ang Dynasty, London, John Murray, 1940, p.46.

89 IV-VI centuries BC [220-589BC].

90 The meaning is indeed quite vast, comprising, for instance the "mйtaphores filйes " ("knitted metaphors") defined by M. Riffaterre.

91 There are several English translations of this poem, notably that by J. D. Frodsham [not available].

[See: Part. II, p.242].

LI HO 李賀

李慿箜篌引

吳絲蜀桐張高秋

空白凝雲颓不流

江娥啼竹素女愁

李憑中國彈箜篌

崑山玉碎鳳凰叫

芙蓉泣露香蘭笑

十二門前融冷光

二十三絲動紫皇

女媧煉石補天處

石破天驚逗秋雨

夢入神山叫神嫗

老魚跳波瘦蛟舞

吳質不眠倚桂樹

露腳斜飛濕寒兔

Le k'ung-hou

Soie de Wu platane de Shu /dresser automne haut

Ciel vide nuages figйs / choyant et ne coulant plus

Dйesse du fleuve pleurer bamboos /Fille Blanche se lamenter

Li P'ing au Milieu du Pays / pincer le k'ung-hou

Mont K'un-lunn jades se briser / couple de phoenix s'interpeller

Fleurs de lotus verser rosйes / orchidйes parfumйes rire Douze portiques par devant / fondre lumiиres froides Vingt-trois cordes de soie /йmouvoir Empereur-Pourpre Nь-wa transformant rochers / rйparer voыte cйleste Pierres fendues ciel йclatй /ramener pluie automnale Rкvant pйnйtrer Mont Magique / initier la chamane Poissons vieillis soulever vagues / long dragon danser Wu Chih hors du sommeil /s'appuyer contre cannelier Rosйes ailйes obliquement s'envolant / mouiller liиvre frissonant

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.242.

Li P'ing on the K'ung-hou Harp

Wu silk, Shu paulownia wood, streching high Autumn;

Sky white, congealed clouds crumbling, not floating;

The Ladies of the River Hsiang shedding tears on the bamboo, the White-silk Girl sorrowful;

Li P'ing playing the k'ung-hou harp in the capital of China.

Mount K'un-lun jade shatters, phoenixes scream,

Lotuses weep dew, fragant orchids smile.

In front of the twelve city gates the cold light melts;

Twenty-three strings move the Purple Emperor.

Where the goddess Nь Wa with smelted stones mended the sky,

Stones break, and the sky astonished, induces the Autumn rains.

In dreams, entering the Mythic Mountains to teach the Mythic Sorceress;

Aged fish leap the waves, scraggy dragons dance.

Wu Kang, sleepless, leans on the cassia tree;

A trail of dew flies aslant, wets the shivering hare.

In: TU, Kuo-ch'ing, Li Ho, Boston, Twayne Publishers, 1979, pp.76-77.

92 [See: Part II, pp.201 (poem and commentary), 204].

LI SHAN-YIN 李商隱

錦瑟

錦瑟無端五十絃

一絃一柱思華年

莊生曉夢迷蝴蝶

望帝春心託杜鵑

滄海月明珠不淚

桑田日暖玉生煙

此情可待成追憶

只是當時已惘然

Cithare ornйe de brocart

Cithare ornйe pur hasard / voici cinquante cordes

Chaque corde chaque chevalet / dйsirer annйes fleuries

Lettrй Chuang rкve matinal / s'illusioner papillon

Empereur Wang cњur printanier / se confier tu-chьan

Mer sans fond lune claire/perles avoir larmes

Champ Bleu soleil ardent/jades naоtre fumйe

Cette passion pouvant durer / devenir poursuite-souvenir

Seulement au moment mкme / dйjа dй-possйdй

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise/ suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.204.

The patterned lute

Mere chance that the patterned lute has fifty strings.

String and fret, one by one, recall the blossoming years.

Chuang-tzu dreams at sunrise that a butterfly lost its way,

Wang-ti bequeathed his spring passion to the nightjar.

The moon is full on the vast sea, a tear on the pearl.

On Blue Mountain the sun warms, a smoke issues from the jade.

Did it wait, this mood, to mature with hindsight?

In a trance from the beginning, then as now.

In: GRAHAM, A. C., trans. and intro., Poems of the Late T'ang, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1965, 171.

For the use of metaphors in Li Shang-yi it is also interesting to read the poem (Sans titre) Untitled with our respective commentaries.

LI SHAN-YIN 李商隱

無題

相見時難别亦難

東風無力百花殘

春蠶到死絲方盡

蠟炬成灰淚始乾

曉鏡但愁雲鬢改

夜吟應覺月光寒

蓬萊此去無多路

青鳥殷勤爲探看

Sans titre

Se voir bien difficile /se sйparer davantage

Vent d'est perdre force / cent fleurs faner

Vers а soie jusqu' а la mort/soies alors йpuiser

Flamme de bougie devenir cendres / larmes seulement sйcher

Miroir du matin s 'attrister/chignon de nuage changer

Chant de nuit ressentir / clartй lunaire froidir

Mont P'eng d'ici aller / sans aucun chemin

Oiseau Vert sans relвche /pour surveiller

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.200.

Untitled poems (vi)

For ever hard to meet, and as hard to part.

Each flower spoils the failing East wind.

Spring's silkworms wind till death their heart's threads:

The wick of the candle turns to ash before its tears dry.

Morning mirror's only care, a change at her cloudy temples:

Saying over a poem in the night, does she sense the chill in the moonbeams?

Not far from here to Fairy Hill.

Bluebird [sic], be quick now, spy me out the road.

In: GRAHAM, A. C., trans. and intro., Poems of the Late T'ang, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1965, p. 150.

* Translator's note: this commentary is addressed to the author's French translation of the poem supporting his discourse in the main text, and not to the above English translation. See: III, p. 60

The Green Bird. [sic]The messenger of Hsi-wang-mu· (the Queen Mother of the West, daughter of the Celestial Sovereign and master of all sun setting lands).

In a series of poems of extremely allusive mood Li Shan-yin sang of the secret loves held by him with a court lady or with a Taoist nun. In this poem written in a 'spoken style' (except the first verse) unfolds a love theme (love and a parting drama) in a network of images and metaphors frequently based in phonal connections. In the third verse ts'an· ("silkworm") is homonymous [sic]with the expression ts'an mien ('amorous links', 'amorous encounters'), while ssu· ("silk" "threads") is homonymous with the word ssu· ('[amorous] thoughts', 'desire'). Also 'silk thread' is part of ch'ing ssu· ('green threads') which also means 'black hair' from which derives the image of "chignon" in the fifth verse. In the fourth verse hui· ("ashes") is part of the expression hsin-hui· ('broken heart') which prolongs the idea of a frustrated love, explicated in the previous verses. Furthermore hui· also stands for the colour 'gray', which is related to the image of the hair ["chignon"] colour "change" in the fifth verse. Once again in the fourth verse, the image of the "flame of candle" refers to both the image of the "wind" in the second verse, and to the image of the "brightness [of the] moon" in the sixth verse. At another level, the image of the "moon" brings to mind the identity of the solitary Goddess Ch'ang O which, in turn, recalls the thought of the distant lover and the eventuality of both lovers being forever reunited beyond death, in a land of bliss and eternal fulfillment.

The poem is thus transformed in a drama by the ensemble of images and metaphors which maintain in reciprocity the essential connections. The verses are not to be read as a descriptive narrative but to be savoured as a 'tragic performance'. In the second verse the images of the "wind" and "flowers" make allusion to a frustrated love at the same time suggesting the realization of the sexual act. The parallelism of the third and fourth verses continue this idea of the sexual copulation ("silkworms" and "candle") veiled under the theme of an 'oath of fidelity'. The fifth and sixth verses narrate the lovers separation subtly implying that the destiny of the lovers is that of Nature itself, a Nature in constant transfiguration. Moreover, this transformation is the essential condition which makes dreaming a reality. Unfolding through a series of phases indestructible by the passing of time, the poem opens up to infinity. See: Note 92.

93 滄海桑田 Canghai sangtian

94 Our translation and analysis are not meant to wrongly convey that the poem is nothing other but a conglomeration of images. It is in fact a tune where the absence of words expressing feelings is accentuated by the poignancy of the musicality. To a Chinese ear the verses are not less melodious than, for instance, the deliverance of Ariel in Shakespeare's The Tempest: "Full fathom five thy father lies / Of his bones are coral made / Those are pearls that were his eyes / Nothing of him that doth fade / But doth suffer a sea-change / Into something rich and strange / [...]", or less 'telling' that in Maurice Scиve complaints: "En moy je vis, oщ que tu sois absente, /En moy je meurs, oщ que soye present. / Tant loing sois tu, toujours tu es present,/Pour pres que soye, encore suis je absent/[...]."

95 [See: Part. II, p.132].

See: Note 62.

* Lecturer at the Institut National de Langues et Civilisations Orientales, Universitй de Paris III, (National Institutes for Oriental Languages and Civilizations, University of Paris III), Paris.

*** Qi Bu Shi, · meaning 'Seven-Step Poem'. The story goes that Cao Zhi· was forced to compose a poem with a limit limit set by his power-thirsty brother Cao Pei, · who was jaelous of poet's literary gift and achievement and thus bent on finding an excuse to kill him. Cao Zhi wrote this poem while walking and just finished it at the count-down of seven steps.

SA DUCI薩都刺（°1308- †13??)

Aliases: Tian Shi天賜, Zhizhai 直齋.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

§1.

Signs engraved in tortoise bones and buffalo's scapulae. Signs which sacred vases and bronze utensils carry on their flanks. 1 Divinatory or utilitarian, they manifest themselves as traceries, emblems, immovable manners, visualized rhythms. Regardless of its utterance, constituting a unity by itself, each sign has the potential to remain sovereign, and thus to become everlasting. So, since its origins, it has been a writing that refuses to be a mere support of oral language: its development has been a long struggle aimed at achieving autonomy as well freedom of arrangement. Ever since its origin it has stood up to this contradictory and dialectical relationship between the pronounced sounds and the physical presence, with a tendency towards gestures, between the exigency of linearity and the desire of a spatial evasion. Can it be said that this is 'crazy defiance' from the Chinese to maintain as such this 'contradiction', for about forty centuries?

What cannot be denied is that it was a most extraordinary adventure, thus enabling it to be said that through their writing the Chinese accepted a challenge, a unique challenge, which came to be the great benefice of the poets.

Thanks to this writing, in effect since slightly longer than three-thousand years ago, an uninterrupted melody was passed on to us.2 This melody that, at its inception, was intimately connected with sacred dance and with agrarian field work regulated by seasonal rhythms, came to eventually suffer considerable metamorphoses. One the elements which determined the origin of these metamorphoses was exactly this writing which has developed into an extremely original poetical language. All T'ang poetry is a written melody as well musical writing. Through these signs, complying with a primordial rhythm, a word has exploded and expanded beyond and from everywhere its signifier's act. First of all to define the reality of these signs, the Chinese ideograms, their specific nature, their connections with other significant practices (such are the intentions of this article) it is essential to explain certain facets of Chinese poetry.

It is usual when speaking of Chinese characters to evoke their imagistic representations. Those who are ignorant of this writing easily take it as an aggregate of 'small squiggles'. It is true that in its oldest known configuration, it is possible to pick out an important number of pictograms such as the 'sun' (⊙, then stylized as 日), the 'moon' (, then stylized in 月), and 'man'/'homo' (, then stylized in 人); but also next to them are represented characters more abstract which can already be qualified as ideograms, such as 'king' (王: that which connects the 'sky', the 'earth' and 'mankind'), 'centre' (中: a space crossed by a line at the centre), and 'to return' (, stylized in 反: a hand describing a turning gesture towards oneself). From a limited number of simple characters later arose the complex characters: those are the ones which constitute most of the Chinese ideograms which are currently in use. A complex character is a compound of two simple characters; thus the word 'clarity'明 is formed by the 'sun' and the 'moon'. But the common example of a complex character is that of the type 'radical + phonetic sign', that is, a radical made of a simple character (equally named 'key', because it is the radical which determines the category to which belongs the word; being the compound of all Chinese words subdivided into two hundred and fourteen types, that two hundred and fourteen 'keys': the 'water' 'key', the 'wood' 'key', the 'man' 'key', etc.) and of another section equally made by a simple character which acts as a phonetic sign: this one by its own pronunciation, gives the pronunciation to the word (that is, the simple character acting as a phonetic sign and the complex character which is also its constituent have the same pronunciation). Let us cite, for instance, the word 'companion'·伴 which is a complex character, It is formed by a 'key', the 'man' 'key' 亻, and of another simple character 半 which is pronounced pan· and which indicates that the complex character 'companion' is also pronounced pan. (This obviously gave rise to numerous homonymous cases of which we will later explain the implications). It must be noted that the choice of a simple character which therefore does not have other function than that of being a phonetic sign is not always gratuitous. Of the example we just mentioned, the simple character pan 半 means 'half '· which combined with the 'key' for 'man' evoke the idea of 'another half' or of 'the man who shares' thus contributing to underline the precise meaning of the complex character 伴· which is its 'companion'. This example make us notice an important factor: if the simple characters whose function is to act as 'self-signifiers' work by their gestural and emblematic looks, in this case, even if it is a purely phonal audible element, one still strives to link it to a meaning. To suppress the gratuitous and the arbitrary at all levels of a semiotic system founded on an intimate relationship with reality, in such a way as to prevent all future ruptures between signs and the world and thus between mankind and the universe: this always seems to have been the tendency of the Chinese. This suggestion enables us to proceed further into the reflection on the specific nature of the ideograms.

The ideograms are composed of lines. Very small in number, these lines present themselves in extremely different arrangements; and the ideogram as a whole is like a compound (or a transformation) derived from very simple lines but already significant by themselves. Among the following six ideograms (all, except the last, being simple characters), the first is composed of only one line and the last of eight. 3 

    一        人        大     天    夫     芙
    ONE    MAN/HOMO     BIG    SKY   MAN   LOTUS

The first ideogram is but a horizontal line. This is undoubtedly the most important of all basic lines and can be considered as the 'initial line' of Chinese writing. According to the traditional interpretation its tracery is an act which separates (and concomitantly joins) the sky with the earth. So, the characters mean 'one' and 'original unity' as well. Combining the basic lines and relying, in many other cases, on 'ideas' which are subjacent to them, other ideograms are created. This is how, when combining 'one'· 一 and 'man'/'homo' 人, we obtain 'big'·大, the same way as 'sky'·天 is achieved adding a line over the character 'big'·大. After 'sky' 天 we reach 'man'夫 and the last character 'lotus'· 芙 a complex character, is a compound of 'man' (as a phonetic sign) together with the radical 'grass'·艹. Lines imbricated in other lines, meanings implied from other meanings. In each sign, the codified meaning never completely represses other more profound meanings always about to erupt: and the compound of signs, formed according to the demands and the equilibrium of rhythm reveal a bundle of meaningful lines: attitudes, movements, researched contradictions, harmony of opposites and, finally, a way of being.

Let us remember that tradition prescribed a connection between this type of writing and the divination system called pa-kua· (the Eight Trigrams). This system, which throughout the history of Chinese civilization has not ceased playing an important role both on the philosophical plan (the idea of mutation) as in daily life (the horoscope, geomancy and other divinatory practices), is said to have been invented by Fu-hsi, · the legendary king, and to have been perfected by Wen-wang· of the Chou· (ca 1000BC). It comprehends a body of figurations whose internal relationships are ruled by transformation laws according to the alternance principles of the ying· and yang· . Each basic figure is composed of three superimposed lines, the uninterrupted lines representing the yang and the broken lines representing the ying. Thus the idea of the 'sky' is represented by three uninterrupted lines and that of the 'earth' by three broken lines , 'water' being symbolized by the configuration , and the 'fire' by the figure , etc. In so far as these ideograms are also composed of lines where numbers up to three are represented by a corresponding number of lines ('one' 一, 'two'·二 and 'three'·三) and where the character shui 水 ('water')·, where written in archaic times as , certain researchers suggest attempting to decode a system of affiliation between both systems. Underlying this connection it is interesting above all to note that the finality of the ideographic signs is not to reproduce the external aspect of things but to figuratively express by its fundamental characteristics through arrangements that uncover their essence as well as the secret bonds which connect them. Through their balanced structure, as such necessary, to characterize each one of them (all being of identical dimensions, containing an inherent 'architecture', immutable and harmonious) the ideograms present themselves not as signs arbitrarily imposed but as being gifted of volition and an internal unity. In China, this perception of signs as living entities is furthermore reinforced by the fact that each ideogram is monosyllabic and invariable, which confers on it an autonomy as well as a great mobility according to its possibility of combination with other ideograms. In the poetical Chinese tradition one frequently compares the twenty characters which constitute a pentasyllabic four verse composition to twenty 'wise men'. Each of their personalities and the way they interrelate transform the poem into a ritual act (or a scene) where gestures and symbols provoke meanings repeatedly renewed.

Such a writing system, and the conception of the sign in itself which is at its base, conditioned in China a whole gamut of major practices such as- besides poetry - calligraphy, painting and mythicism.

QU YUAN 屈原 (°ca343-†277BC).

Alias: Ling Jun 靈均

Chu· poet of the Warring States· era (475-221BC). **

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

The influence of a language conceived not as a denotative system which 'describes' the world, but as an organizing representation where the connections provoke significant acts, 4 is here decisive. Not only because basically writing is the vehicle to all these practices but also because much more the model acting on the process of their constitution in system. Inspired by the ideographic writing and determined by it, poetry, calligraphy, painting and mythicism constitute a semiotic network both complex and uniform: they obey the same procedure of symbolization and certain rules of fundamental opposition. It is not possible to detach language from one of these categories without making reference to the links which bind them to the others, and through them, to a general aesthetic way of thinking. In China the arts are not compartimentalized: an artist should excel in the triple practice of poetry-calligraphy-painting as a wholesome art where all the spiritual dimension of one's self are explored: linear singing and spatial system, incantatory gestures and visualized words. So we propose to define, in the following pages, the relationship maintained between writing and calligraphy, painting and mythicism and, at the same time, each time it takes place, which assisted the poets in their attempts to forge a language adequate to their purposes.

It is not by chance that in China calligraphy which exalt the visual beauty of the ideograms has become a fine art. Through the practice of that art, all Chinese find again the most profound rhythm of their selves and thus a communion with the elements. Through these lines full of meaning they find total release. Their binding and their releasing connections, their relationships either contrasting or in equilibrium allow each individual to express the multiple aspects of their sensibility: strength and tenderness, élan and timidity, tension and harmony. Realizing the unity intrinsic in each character and the overall equilibrium between all characters, the calligrapher, through expressing his matter achieves his own integrity. Immemorial gestures are nonetheless constantly reenacted whose cadence, as a dance of swords, realizes instantly the flow of the lines; lines which bind themselves, which intersect each-other, which drift and dive, acquire meaning and add further meanings to the codified meaning of the words. In effect, speaking about calligraphy one can speak about meaning, because its own gestural and rhythmic nature does not allow us to forget that it works from the signs. During an execution the meaning of a text is never altogether absent from the mind of the calligrapher. So, the choice of a text is never gratuitous nor indifferent.

The favourite texts of the calligraphers are undoubtedly the poetical texts (verses, poems, poetical prose). When a calligrapher interprets a poems he does not limit himself to merely copying it. Through his calligraphic art he resurrects all the gestural movement and the imaginary power of the signs. It is a personal way of penetrating the deepest meanings of each of the signs, to merge himself with the physical cadence of the poem and thus to recreate it. Another type of text, not less incantatory, equally attract the calligraphers: the sacred texts. Through these, calligraphic art gives again to the signs their original function, magical and sacred. The Taoist monks determine the efficiency of the talismans (or charms) that they delineate in the quality of their calligraphy which guarantees good communication with the beyond. The faithful Buddhists believe that they gain merits through copying canonical texts: the merits will be bigger in proportion to the excellence of their calligraphic quality.

No poet can remain insensitive to this sacred function of the delineated signs. As the calligrapher who through his dynamic action believes to connect the signs to the original world, to erupt a movement of harmonious or contrary forces, the poet does not doubt the unveiling of some secret to the universal good combining signs, as is clear from this verse by Tu Fu: ·

"Le poème achevé, dieux et démons sont stupéfaits!"5

("The poem being finished, goods and demons are astonished!").

From this conviction also derives, during the composition of a poem the quasi-mystic research of a 'key' word denominated tzu-yen·6 ('eye-word') which, suddenly giving light to the poem, would deliver the mystery of the hidden world. Numerous anecdotes tell how a poet prostrates before another, venerating him as his I-tzu-shih· ('one word master'), because he had revealed to him the essential and absolutely correct word which he needed in order to finish a poem and present a work of "perfect creativity".7

Regarding the imagistic aspect of the characters, incessantly enhanced and magnified by a calligraphic art which, during its execution, brings up from its multiple graphic layers its multiple meanings, the poet does not deprive himself from exploring his power to evoke. Wang Wei, an adept of the ch'an· (zen in Japanese) spirituality describes in a quartrain8 an hibiscus about to blossom. The poet attempts to suggest that after much contemplation of the tree, he became so intensely one with the tree that he felt as if he were the tree about to blossom. Instead of controlling a denotative? language in order to explain an experience, he is happy to line up five characters in the first line of the quartrain:

木

木

末

芙+蓉9

花
BRANCH

END

MAGNOLIA

FLOWER

 

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This verse can be translated as: "At the end of the branch, magnolia flowers [...]." Even a reader who does not understand Chinese can be touched by the visual aspect of these five characters in succession and aware to the meaning of the verse. If one reads the characters in their order one has in fact the sensation of assisting at a blossoming process of a tree which is about to blossom (first character: a naked tree; second character: something which bursts at the tip of the branches; third character: the formation of the 'bud'· 艹, being the radical of 'grass' or 'leaf'; fourth character: a bursting bud; fifth character: a fully opened flower). But behind what is shown (visual aspect) and what is denoted (normal meaning), the reader who knows the language will not miss the untavelling of the ideograms to find a subtly hidden idea: that of the protagonist entering into the spirit of the tree and participating in its metamorphosis. The third character 芙 contains in effect the element of 'man' 夫 which in itself contains the 'man'/'homo' 人 (So, the tree represented by the first two characters is, inexorably, inhabited by the presence of 'man'). The fourth character 蓉 contains the element 'face'·容 (the 'bud' bursts as a 'face'), which in itself contains the element 'mouth'· 口 (thus, 'speaking'). Finally, the fifth character contains the element 'transformation'· 化 ('man' participating in universal evolution). With great economy and without recurring to any external commentary, the poet reenacts under our eyes a mystical experience in its successive phases.

SIMA XIANGRU 司馬相如 (°179-†117BC).

Alias: Chang Qing長卿. Sobriquet: You Zi 尤子.

Prominent Western Han (206BC-AD9) Ci Fu • writer.

Born in Chengdu • [city], Sichuan • province.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm × 33.0 cm.

A second example is given by the poet Tu Fu when he uses in two of his verses a procedure dear to the Taoist priests in their trace delineation of magic formulas: a process which consists of superimposing names (sometimes invented) with the same 'radical' (or 'key'), as if trying to accumulate a type of energy suggested by the 'radical'. Not without being devoid of irony, as the verses describe the anxious waiting, and finally disillusioned (as the magic formula had no effect) of rain during a time of scorching heat. The poet uses a series of words with the 'radical' of 'rain'·雨: "thunder"-"lightning"·雷霆, "burst of the thunder"· 霹靂, "cloud"·云. And finally he writes the word "rain"· 雨 itself, a word which had already been previously contained in all the previous words which announced it. Vain promise. Because the word is immediately followed by the word "nothing"·無, thus ending the verse. Or the 'radical' of 'nothing' is 'fire'· 灬. So, the aborted "rain" is immediately engulfed by the 'burning atmosphere'. The two verses, accompanied by a word to word translation are as such:

雷 霆 空 霹 靂

云 雨 竟 虚 無

"Éclair tonerre en vain éclatant tonnant

Nuage pluie finalement illusoire néant"10

("Lightning thunder in vain bursting resounding

Cloud rain finally illusory nothing")

The compound of these aligned words having in mind their progression (the clouds which amass, the "thunder" which announces the "rain", the "rain" absorbed by the 'fire') and the contrast that they provoke creates an astonishing visual effect.

We will mention a last example of the use of graphic elements by the poets. It is the first strophe of a long poem by Chang Jo-hsü in which the poet immediately introduces the theme of the duality between two symbolic figurations: the 'river' ('space-time', 'permanence') and the 'moon' ('élan of life', 'vicissitude'):

春江潮水連海平

海上明月共潮生

灩灩隨波千萬里

何處春江無月明

Without clearly explaining the theme, the poet places in opposition a number of words with the 'radical' of 'water' 水 "river"· 江, "water"· 水, "sea"· 海, "shining"· 灎, "wave"· 波, and another group of words all containing the word 'moon' 月: "clarity" 明, "following"· 隨. Twice in between them appears the word "tide"· 潮, which also has the 'water' 'radical' but equally contains the character of 'moon' 月. If we represent the words of the 'water' group by / and all those of the 'moon' group by \ and the word "tide" which belongs to both groups as ×, the occurrences in the four verses can be diagramatically represented as follows:

The relationship sometimes of opposition and sometimes of correlation between the two figurations is graphically and efficiently suggested.

§2. PAINTING

If the link between calligraphy and poetical writing seems direct and natural, the one that links painting to poetical writing is equally important. In the Chinese tradition where painting is called wu-sheng-shih· ('silent poetry'), the two art forms acquire the same amplitude. Many poets also painted and, in the same manner all painters were meant to be poets. The most illustrious example is undoubtedly that of Wang Wei·, from the early T'ang·. An inventor of the monochrome technique and a precursor of the so-called 'spiritual painting', he became equally famous through his poems. His pictorial experience was foremost in the way he organized the meaning of his poetry, so that the poet Su Tong-po, · of the Song· dynasty was able to say that "[...] his paintings are poems and his poems paintings [...]." The connecting bridge between the first and the second is exactly calligraphy. And the outstanding manifestation of this triangular relationship - which constitutes the foundations of 'complete' art - is the tradition which consists in calligraphically adding a poem in the white space of a painting. Before we explain the real significance of this practice it must be underlined that both painting and calligraphy deal with the artistic handling of brushwork, thus facilitated their cohabitation.

The art of calligraphy aims at reinstating the primordial rhythm and the vital gestures implied by the lines of the characters, and to liberate the Chinese artist from the problem of faithfully describing the external physical aspect of the world. This gave rise from very early times to a 'spiritual' painting which rather than attempting to reproduce the seen and to calculate geometric proportions, attempted to imitate the 'act of the Creator' through lines, forms and the essential movements of nature. In search for the same sovereign liberty as the calligrapher, the painter uses the brush in the same way. After a long apprenticeship during which he learns how to draw a great variety of elements from Nature and the world of mankind - the totality of these elements being the aim of a morose process of symbolization; when becoming significant units they allow to the artist the possibility of organizing them according to certain fundamental aesthetic laws - as if learning 'by heart' the visible universe, he starts producing works sufficiently consistent. Their execution is not made facing models (as all works must be projections from an inner world), but it unfolds as calligraphy, rhythmically, as if the artist were suddenly charged by an unabatable drive. This was possible exactly because all pictorial elements are based on line 'drawing'. Through their continuous rhythm the lines allow the artist to follow the movement first created by the 'primary brushstroke'.12 The real world appears under its brush with an uninterrupted 'vital flow'.13 To the eyes of the Chinese painter, lines experience at the same time the form of things and the pulsations of dreams; they are not mere contours; but through their plenitude and sinuosities, by the 'white' they frame, by the space they suggest, they imply from the beginning a volume (never static) and light (always changeable). So the painter creates a work controlling his lines, lines which meet or distance, lines which become incarnate in figurations preconceived and mastered in advance; not in copying or describing the world but in fathering it in a way instantaneous and direct, with adding up or retouching it, the figurations of the real according to the concepts of Tao •.

ZHUO WENJUN 卓文君 (Active ca200BC).

Alias: Wen Hou 文後.

Born in Lin Qiong· [city].

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

But to come back to the inscription of a poem in a painting one can notice that there is no discontinuity between the written elements and the pictorial elements, both been composed by lines and designed by the same brush. These inscribed ideograms are an integral part of the painting, not being understood as a simple ornament or a commentary extraneously added. Participating in giving order to the ensemble, the lines of a poem 'pierce' in verity the white background space giving a new dimension which we might qualify as new and which can also qualified as temporal in the measure that verses, according to a linear reading, transmit beyond their spatial imagery the memory of a dynamic landscape that the painter tried to arrest (in successive perceptions). Their rhythmic incantation which unfolds with the passing of time adds a negation to the appellation of 'silent poetry' for poetry; they truly render the open space, open to a previous time and incessantly renewed. In harmonizing poetry with painting, the Chinese painter-poet managed to create a four-dimensional complete and organic universe.

Of this symbiosis of the two arts comes important consequences for both. The interpenetration of the spatiality and temporality has exerted a definitive influence, on the one hand on the way the poet conceived a poem (notably that the poem does not inhabit only a time but also a space: not a space as an abstract framework, but a mediate place, where human signifiers and significant objects are implicated in a continuous multidirectional game. As in a Chinese painting with its axonometric perspective not giving any fixed and privileged viewpoint, and where the spectator is incessantly invited to penetrate in spaces either explicit or hidden, the signs of a poem are also not content to be mere intermediaries. Through their spatial organization they constitute a world of presence where is pleasant to inhabit and through which one can drift, making new discoveries and having new) and on the other hand the way the painter disposes his pictorial units in the painting (schematic symbolization of the elements of Nature, elements transformed in significant units, arrangement of these units on the double axis of opposition and correlation, etc.). Calligraphy is at the confluence where these two arts share the same fundamental laws of Chinese aesthetics. We are only insisting here in two primordial notions, that of the ch'i· or chi'yün ('rhythmic flow') and that of the hsü-shih· ('full-empty' in opposition). The expression of 'rhythmic flow' figurations in most of the texts on literary criticism and treatises on painting. 14 According to tradition, an authentic work (be it literature or art) must reinstate mankind in the universal 'vital flow', which should circulate through the work and fully animate it. That is why so much importance is frequently given to the rhythm of the syntax. Regarding the opposition 'full-empty', it is a fundamental notion in Chinese philosophy.15 In painting, it marks the opposition in a composition not only of the 'inhabited' realm as well as of the 'uninhabited', but also within the pictorial field where the elements defined by 'full' lines alternate with elements with broken or interrupted lines. To the eyes of a Chinese artist the making of a work, be it pictorial or calligraphic, is a spiritual exercise, its an occasion for a dialogue between the visible and the invisible, between the active and the passive, the eruption of an inner world regulated by the dynamic law of transformation. In a composition, the 'empty' is the introductory factor of the 'rhythmic flow' which animates the universe. Breaking the connections or the artificial oppositions and therefore, the rigid 'logic' of development, it creates a circular movement which recreates all matter in a process of reciprocal transformation:

MOUNTAIN WATER, TREE CLOUD, MAN ROCK, etc.

Through the presence of 'empty', a type of fifth dimension, the painter attempts to unite time with space, the inside with the outside and, ultimately, the protagonist (from which, in fact, derives the true 'empty') with the world. The notion of 'full-empty' was introduced by the T'ang poets in poetry. It refers to the way they handle the 'full words' (verbs and nouns) and the 'empty words' (secondary nouns, such as pronouns, prepositions, comparative words, particles, etc.).16 Through the omission of pronouns and 'empty words' and by the usage of certain 'empty-words' as 'full-words', the poet operates an internal opposition in the language and a deregulation of the nature of signs. The result was a language more pure but free, devoid of nature but sovereign, that the poet molds to its purposes.

§3. MYTHICAL ELEMENTS

In China mythicism is a vast and extremely complex territory. It will suffice here to indicate the types of relationships which might exist between myths and poetry. What connects both is, above all, writing, so it is from it that we will start our analysis.

As in poetry, writing plays an active role in mythicism. Because of its phonal and graphic specificity, its concrete and imagistic nature, its aptitudes to combine, it contributes to the creation of images and figurations which nourish both poetry and writing. Regarding calligraphy we have seen that in certain religious practices, writing was an inspirational source for the tracing of talismans and other magic formulas which frequently are graphic derivations from previously existent characters. In the same way, certain mythical personifications such as the Wen-k'ui-hsing, · are represented by a conglomerate of closely knit characters grouped as a human figure. All these applications, direct or non direct, attest from the worshippers with profound belief in the magic powers of the characters. For them, certain steles with the inscription of consecrated formulas effectively entreat the bad spirits. On the other hand, in certain temples, particularly those of the confucionists, the venerated representation over the altar is neither that of a figure or an iconography, but a board sequentially inscribed with the following characters:天地君親師· ("sky·-earth·-king·-parent·-master·" tiandi jun qinshi). To the eyes of the worshippers not only does each one of the characters stand for a living representation but their linear sequence truly establishes the line of descent which links them to the original universe. At that level, certain characters are, while living units, elements which constitute myths, with the same level as other mythical figurations and personifications.

The exploitation of writing by mythicism is not confined to the graphic area. Their oracy equally contributes to the creation of objects and figures with magic power. The characters being monosyllabic and their number of syllables being limited in Chinese, homophonous examples, particularly in simple words, are frequent. In popular religions there is the common resort of a procedure which consists of corresponding an abstract word to another which designates a tangible object, when they both have an identical pronunciation. So is the case when lu· ('deer') becomes a symbol of 'prosperity' and fu· ('bat') becomes that of 'happiness', simply because the words 'prosperity'· and 'happiness' are respectively pronounced 'lu' and 'fu'. Sometimes one goes so far as associating several objects in order to create relationships with traditional expressions. For instance, during certain celebrations, a musical instrument called sheng· is placed by the side of tsao-tzu· ('jujubes'), in order to express the best wishes to have an 'abundant progeny', which is spelled in Chinese as tsao-sheng-tzu. · Thus, a multitude of animals and objects charged with magic powers came to inhabit the universe of the imaginary and nourish popular tales. This procedure (a kind of charade) based on nonsense is equally apt to mythical entities.

Anonymous (Active ca AC100).

"Every She-Day there's no sewing and knitting.

My heart grieves at the sight of swallows courting.

Spring is already half gone in my river-town.

Yet I am still amidst wild mountains.

A lonely soul wandering by streams and over bridges.

Who's going to sew up the holes in my thorn clothes?

Tears start trickling down my cheeks.

Dismounting on the grassy bank ant sundown,

Again I find myself sadly alone:

No one wears these flowers,

No one invites me to wine.

And no one cares when I'm drunk dead!"

Translated by Ieong Sao Leng, Sylvia 楊秀玲 Yang Xiuling

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

Let us take for instance Wen-t'ai-shih· (God of Thunder, literally meaning: 'The big master who understands'). Frequently the first character of his name, wen· 聞 ('understand') is written instead as wen· 文 ('trace', 'writing') because it is pronounced the same way. By making a correspondence, apparently arbitrary, between the two 'wen', the worshippers add another attribute to the God of Thunder, thus being not only the one who understands but also someone who traces and writes: one eye to see and one ear to listen.

This ingenious utilization of the graphic and audio qualities of writing within the religious practices is the same as one can observe in poetry. The poet also exploits the possibility of giving rise to images, sometimes strange and powerful, from a convergence between the graphic and the phonal. But this relationship between myth and poetry does not stop here. We will see (in chapter III. IMAGES) that, following the patterns of writing, Chinese poetry has a tendency to a systematic symbolization of nature in order to generate a complex game on the metaphorical-metonimic levels. This generalized symbolization is also apparent in Taoism and in the popular religions. An impressive number of cosmological elements, of Nature and of mankind's world are carriers of symbolic meanings: thus they weave a vast mythic network, allowing the human mind to bind itself without hindrances, to the ensemble compound of the objective world. Poetic symbolism and mythic symbolism are not two separate realms living in parallel without links between themselves, on the contrary, they are mutually supportive, interpenetrating each other and ending up by coming together as two arms of the same river. Poetry, although vastly borrowing symbolic figurations from collective myths, enriches these new figurations that it creates throughout the ages. More, both poetry and mythicism make use of a same system of correspondences (numbers, elements, colours, sounds, etc.), originally proposed by tradition. Their relationship at this intimate point is that the long development of Chinese poetry in itself precludes the slow constitution of a collective mythology.

§4.

In this way, poetry is an integral part of an organic ensemble of semiotic systems. Taking advantage of the ideographic writing (which enabled the birth of a written prose called wen-yen, · quite remote from the spoken language), since its early days poetry devised a specific language which was to become the initiating pattern for others languages, despite also being influenced by them. This interaction between both languages was to became a source of wealth for both of them. She was to give them both the possibility of inspiring still others and to become free from their specific constraints. Summarily, once again, the common features characteristic to these languages: systematic symbolization of the elements of Nature and of the world of mankind, the constitution of symbolic figurations into significant units, the structuring of these units according to certain fundamental rules foreign to the linear and irreversible logic, the engendering of a semiotic universe ruled by a circular movement where mankind and the world mutually interact and expand incessantly.

What we propose to analyze here is Chinese classical poetry as a specific language: its laws, structures and implications for the Chinese semiology (and eventually, to semiology in general). During this analysis, we are not going to disdain what might contribute to the understanding of the language, and in this, we can seek assistance from the ample Chinese tradition of poetical criticism contained in the numerous shih-hua· ('reports on poetry'), which started appearing after the period of the Northern and Southern dynasties· (ca 381- ca 581), as well as by the studies in Japanese and in Western languages. It is true that most of these studies are centered in problematic of genders and themes as well as in the philological aspect. Regarding the structures of the language and the signification of forms, they still belong to an unexplored domain.

The corpus to which we will make particular reference is that of the T'ang poetry, from the seventh to the ninth centuries, which constitutes by its fecundity and variety, as well as by its formal research, the summit of classic poetry. This poetry is the summit of a long adventure. The Shih-ching· (Book of Songs), a lyrical compilation which inaugurates all Chinese literature contains poems which go as far back as one-thousand years BC. Since its appearance, Chinese poetry has known an uninterrupted development. 17 Under the T'ang (AD618-907) all styles and all poetical forms were collected and codified; and so they should continue without being modified until the beginning of this century. It was during the T'ang dynasty that the most consistent and fruitful attempts to explore the limits of Chinese language were made. During three centuries18 thanks to a convergence of favourable circumstances, several generations of poets submitted themselves to intense creative activity. The Ch'üan-T'ang-shih· (The Complete Poetry of the T'ang) a work compiled during the eighteenth century under the Ch'ing· dynasty is a collection of more than fifty thousand poems by around two thousand poets. We will restrict ourselves to the 'best examples', that is to those who are traditionally recognized as being the most representative and to those who also reveal a certain formal interest.

CAO CAO 曹操 (AD°155-†220).

Alias: Meng De 孟德.

Founder of the Jian An· [School of] literature.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

Our study is divided into two sections: a theory section and an anthology section. In the first section these topics will be successively analyzed: The relationship between popular language and poetical language, that is the 'furthering' that the latter takes from the former in relation to the rules of lexicons and syntax, and the consequences it might carry (the 'passive procedures'); the strictly poetical forms, regarding their structure and significants (the 'active procedures'); and finally, we will attempt to show how to explore the imaginative creativity (the images), expanding on the specific language and profiting from the structural economy that it implies. In an attempt to reach a practical finality (that of initiating the reading of Chinese poetry) and having in mind the obstacles of Chinese language as such, our analysis attempts to be as little 'abstract' as possible, trying to support itself, step by step, on concrete examples. Most of these examples are extracted from the second section, which constitutes a selection of poems classified according to style (genre) and accompanied by: a phonetic transcription, 19 a word by word translation, and then by an interpretative translation. Regarding translations20 we must explain that the one we have aims basically at explicating certain hidden nuances in the verses. Regarding the word by word translation, useful for the reader and indispensable for the requirements of our analysis, on its own it would only explicit a caricature of the original poem, giving the impression of a fragmented and laconic language, containing no elements of a real translation, nor the cadence of the verses, nor the implications of the syntax of the words, nor - above all - the ambivalent nature of the ideograms and the emotional charge they contain. In a poem, the ideograms detached from its accessory elements acquire a more intense presence: and the apparent or implicit relationships that they carry between themselves orientate the meaning in multiple directions. That which is untranslatable is what obviously writing had not the ability to write, but also what it added to the language.

Reaffirming the value of the T'ang poets' researches we are not ignorant that the corpus here dwelt with is but a facet of the Chinese language. A contradiction seems thus to arise: we are trying to come to terms with a reality apparently well defined and we know that it is the result of a dynamic practice which contains the germ of all virtualities of alterations and transformations. This contradiction is sensed, in a way, by the T'ang poets themselves. We can find proof of it in the profound meaning of the lü-shih, · the most important form of Chinese classic poetry (a form which will be studied in chapter II. THE ACTIVE PROCEDURES). Essentially the lü-shih is a system of dialectical thought based on the alternation or opposition between the 'parallel' verses and the 'non-parallel' verses. Regarding parallelism (which we will also analyze its implications in chapter II.) what can immediately be said is that, due to its internal spatial organization, it introduces another order in the linear progression of language: an autonomous order, self-centered, in which the signs dialogue among them and justify by themselves as liberated from external constraints and thus resting out of time. Their codification in the poetry of the early T'ang reflects, besides a dualistic conception of life, the intense confidence that the poets placed in the capacity of signs. They really think that by their trickery, they would be able to recreate a universe according to their volition. But, on the other hand this pretension was denied by the fact that in the lü-shih structure, the 'parallel' verses must be followed by 'non-parallel' verses. These 'non-parallel' verses which must end the poem seem to introduce again in the temporal procedure, an open time, promissory to all metamorphoses. And a metamorphosis is exactly what happened to the language of the T'ang poets, 21 worn by the passing of time and witnessed one thousand years later, around 1920, with the death of the wen-yen ('old written language') and its substitution by the pai-huai· ('modern language') which pushed poetry to further adventures.

But it is not the least paradoxical of Chinese poetical writing that, despite the affirmation of a semiotic order and its own negation, here remain the permanence of signs, invariable signs and independent of phonal changes, thanks to which, beyond the passing of centuries, an infinitely 'oral' poetry is presented to us charged with the same evocative power and in all its splendour of youth.

I

THE PASSIVE PROCEDURES

§1.

It being our objective to capture Chinese poetry as a specific language, we will first observe the relationship between the poetical language and the popular everyday language. What strikes us right from the start is the distancing between popular language and the most elaborate forms invented by the T'ang poets. This distancing is not based on an outright rejection of popular sources. Rather, the poets' search to obtain the maximum from certain virtualities of a language of ideographic writing and with an isolated structure. Their task was made easy by the existence of wen-yen, a basically written language and of a concise style. It will be thus in relationship to the spoken language (as we know it through popular literature) and by the wen-yen that the poetical language will be defined.

Of the lexical and syntactical plans the most important factor which worries the poets is, as it was already expressed in the Introduction, the opposition between two 'full words' (the nouns and two types of verbs: action verbs and qualifying verbs) as well as the empty words (the compound of the toolwords: pronouns, adverbs, prepositions, conjunctions, comparative words, particles, etc.). This opposition is made on two levels. At a superficial level, it is enough to judiciously alternate 'full words' with 'empty words' in order to make the verses more colourful. But the poets soon understand that in poetry, the importance of the role played by rhythm (linked to the philosophical notion of the 'vital flow') which might determine the demarcation and connection task between words (a task which is assumed by the 'empty words' in normal language). So, at a deeper level, the poets proceed to successively reduce the 'empty words' (mainly the pronouns, the propositions, the comparative words and the particles) only retaining from the 'empty words' certain adverbs and conjunctions, and this exactly in order to give to language a dimension of depth, exactly that of the true 'void'.

In certain circumstances the poets go so far as to replace a 'full word' (most frequently a verb) by an 'empty word', always with the preoccupation to insert the 'empty' in the 'full', but this time by substitution. About this we must make note that even among the 'full words' there are distinctions such as shi tzu·/huo tzu· ('dead words'/'live words') and ching tzu·/tong tzu· ('static words'/'dynamic words') which denote the difference between the noun and the verb, and mainly inbetween the two types of verbs: the qualitative verbs (adjectives) and the active verbs. So, to the eyes of the poet who searches to grasp the hidden meaning of things, a verb might be considered in three forms: 'dynamic' (when employed as an action verb), 'static' (when employed as a qualitative verb) and finally, 'empty' (when it is replaced by an 'empty word').

The sequel to this chapter will thus be dedicated to the observation of the procedures by which the poets extract from ordinary language certain existing elements, which we will call passive procedures. We will see that that series of ellipses is not only derived from style. The 'emptiness' they provoke between the signs and 'behind' the signs modify their implications and therefore the relationship between mankind and the world (this relationship being expressed, in Chinese poetry, by the association of two terms: ch'ing· ('inner feeling') and ching· ('outer landscape').

§2. THE ELLIPSE OF THE PERSONAL PRONOUNS

If already in the wen-yen the lack of personal pronouns was considerable, it must be said that it is even more obvious in poetry and practically nonexistent in the lü-shih ('regular poetry'22). This volition to avoid as much as possible the three grammatical persons [I/we, you/you, he-she-it/they] determines a conscious choice; it places the personal subject in a direct relationship with the beings and things. Diluting itself, or better still, making understood, but not explicitly expressed, his presence, the subject internalizes the external elements. That is even more apparent in phrases which would usually be made up of a personal subject and a transitive verb, and where a circumstantial complement of either time, place or even mode, in the absence of determining attributes, are constituents of the real subject.

CAO PI 曹丕 (AD°187-226).

Alias: Zi Heng 子桓.

Prominent literati of the Jian An period.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

"Sommet du Mont Coupe-d'encens

Y avoir haut ermite demeurer

Soleil crépusculaire descendre du Mont

Lune claire remonter au sommet"

("Crest of the Hill Incense burner

To have there high hermit live

Crepuscular sun descends the Hill

Bright moon rises crest")

For the last two verses of the quartrain, the reader reestablishes the 'normal' phrase: "As sunset, he (the hermit) descends from the mountain: and he goes up again to its summit when the moon rises." Beyond that is also implied the intention of the poet which is to identify the "hermit" to the cosmic elements: the "sun" and the "moon" no longer being mere 'time attributes'. The daily outing of the hermit is presented, as such, as the movement of the cosmos itself.

"Montagne vide ne percevoir personne

Seulement entendre voi humaine résonner

Soleil couchant pénétrer forêt profonde

Un instant encore illuminer mousse verte" 23

("Mountain empty to see no one

Only listen human voice echoing

Setting sun penetrating deep forest

An instant still brighten green moss")

This quartrain was written by Wang Wei, the poet-painter admirer of ch 'an. He describes a walk in the mountain which is at the same time a spiritual experience, the experience of emptiness and of communion with Nature. The first verses should be interpreted as follows: "In the empty mountain I meet no one; I can only hear the echoes of the walking people." But through the suppression of the personal pronoun and the location elements, the poet becomes unequivocally identified with the "empty mountain", which goes beyond being a 'complementary site': the same way in the third verse he 'becomes' the radiant glow of the "setting sun penetrating" in the "deep forest." From the contextual view point the first two verses present the poet as 'not yet seeing': in his ears still echoes the sound of human voices. The last two verses have as theme 'vision': to see the golden effect of the "setting sun" over the "green moss." To "see" means here the illumination and the in depth communion with the essence of things. Furthermore, the poet frequently omits of the personal pronoun in order to describe the sequence of events where human gestures are linked to the movements of Nature. Let us cite the following verses:

"Nuages blancs retourner contempler se fondre

Rayon vert pénétrer chercher invisible" 24

("White clouds return contemplate melt

Green ray penetrate search [make] invisible")

Here, during a lonely walk, the poet turns to "contemplate" the drifting "clouds" until they disperse - and the poet with them - in an indivisible wholeness (the idea of total communion); he moves towards the "green ray" which comes from the luxuriant Nature, but as he gradually "penetrates" in its luminous space the "green" light becomes invisible (the idea of illumination in the non-being). Both verses are terminated by three verbs in succession: the person of the first two verses is the poet, and that of the last one, Nature. The verses thus composed strongly suggest the fusion process of mankind with the cosmos.

"Sommeil printanier ignorer aube

Tout autor entender chanter oiseaux...

Nuit passée: bruissement de vent, de pluie;

Pétales tombés, qui sait combien..." 25

("Spring dream ignore rising sun

All around listen sing birds...

Passing night: rustling of wind, of rain;

Fallen petals, who knows how many...")

This quartrain describes the impressions of a sleeping creature waking up on a spring morning (at the crack of dawn). The reader is invited to suddenly participate in the state of consciousness of the dreamer (or better, in his state of half-awakening, because, as soon as he wakes-up everything gets confused in his mind). The first verse does not saturate the reader imagining someone who sleeps, but places him at the level of his sleep, a sleep which is confused with that of "spring." The three other verses, when understood in superimposition. 'represent' the three layers of the dreamer's conscience: present (chirping of the "birds"), past ("rustling of the wind" and "rain"), and future (awareness of a fugitive happiness and the vague desire to go to the garden to contemplate the flower "petals" spread over the ground). A clumsy translator, in an attempt to 'elucidate', makes use of a denotative language, establishing, for instance... "[...] when I sleep in spring [...]", "All around me I hear [...]","[...] I remember that [...]", "[...] I wonder if [...]", thus conveying the idea of a protagonist completely wide awake, out of that blissful state and making a 'commentary' detached from his sensations.

The so far given examples all show a person in the singular (an 'I' or a 'he'). In poems which assemble a number of protagonists the ambiguity which derives from the lack of personal pronouns is not necessarily detrimental to the reader's comprehension, instead it frequently even adds subtle nuances.

The following example shows us the poet visiting a hermit (a Taoist monk). The poem implies an 'I' and a 'you', although these two pronouns are never used:

"Le Chemin traverser maints endroits

Mousses tendres percevoir traces de sabots

Nuages blancs entourant îlot calme

Herbes folles enfermant porte oisive

Pluie passée contempler couleur de pins

Colline longée atteindre source de rivière

Fleurs du ruisseau réléver esprit de ch'an

Face à face déjà hors de la parole" 26

("The road cross multiple sites

Soft moss see traces of clogs

White clouds surrounding tranquil islet

Crazy foliage involving inactive door

Past rain contemplate colour of pines

Alongside hill reach source of river

Flowers of the stream reveal spirit of ch 'an

Face to face already out of words")

CAO ZHI 曹植 (AD°192-†232).

"Qi Bu Shi***

What a pretty dish of beans we've got,

With a juicy mess boiling in the pot!

The beanstalks benbeath are burning fiercely,

While the beans above are weeping bitterly:

Aren't we offspring of the selfsame root?

Why is there all the haste to torment me to death?"

Translated by Ieong Sao Leng, Sylvia 楊秀玲 Yang Xiuling

LEI CHI NGOK李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

In order to reach the site where the hermit lives (verses three and four: "[...] clouds surrounding tranquil islet [...] foliage involving inactive door [...]") The visitor traverses a landscape full of accidents yet inhabited by the presence of the hermit. Although not named by a 'you' the hermit is not presented either as the 'purpose' of the visit isolated from its environment. Not declaring his presence by an 'I', the poet is felt within all the elements of the landscape (becoming "moss", "rain", "pines", "hill" and "source") which is no more that the inner landscape of the hermit. The material road becomes a 'spiritual Way'. When we finally reaches the destination (which destination?) the visitor and the host become united with Nature. In the last verse, the expression "face to face" is not devoid of ambiguity and gives way to multiple interpretations: it is the union of the 'I' and the 'you'; or both of them together in the presence of the spirituality of ch'an (zen); or even the 'I' in company of the flowers, the host being absent? Anyway, for the visitor to have finally met his host or not, to have spoken with him or not, is not really important, because his itinerary goes beyond words. In this language where the indicators 'I' and 'you' are absent the objectifying discourse coincides with the personal discourse. This brings about, once again, the intention of the poet which is to interiorise the external elements and, through them, to suppress the opposition between the protagonist and the objective world.

Let us finally quote a poem by Tu Fu which involves a number of protagonists. It is called Seconde envoi à mon neveu Wu-lan (The second letter to my nephew Wu-lan), who Tu Fu dedicates to his nephew, to whom he left his land parcel. The poet asks his nephew not to plant hedges on the western part of the garden, as this would frighten his western neighbour, an extremely poor woman who usually comes to get jujubes for nourishment. The poems goes like this:

TU FU 杜甫

"Second envoi à mon neveu Wu-lang

Devant chaumière secouer jujubier voisine de l'ouest

Sans nourriture sans enfant une femme esseulée

Si point de misère pourquoi avoir recours à ceci

À cause de honte d'autant plus être bienveillant.

Se méfier de l'hôte étranger bien que superflu

Planter haies même clairsemées néanmoins trop réel

Se plaindre corvées-impôts dépouillée jusqu'aux os

Penser flammes de guerre larmes mouiller habits" 27

("The second letter to my nephew Wu-lan

In front hut shake jujube western neighbour,

Without food without child an abandoned woman

Such a misery why resort to this

Because of shame all the more to be benevolent

Be wary of the foreign host which is superfluous

Plant hedges even if sparsely, nonetheless too real

Complain drudgeries-taxes bare to the bones

Think war flames tears drench garnments")

The poem stages three protagonists: the poet ('I'), the nephew ('you') and the woman ('she/her'). The term 'protagonist' in this case is not adequate because with the omission of the personal pronouns the poet exactly attempts to create a 'inter-subjective' consciousness where the other is never directly confronted. From one verse to the next the poet identifies himself with one and then another person (the third, fifth and seventh verses make reference to 'her'; the fourth and sixth verses to 'you' and the last verse to an 'I' or 'us'), as if it was in possession of several viewpoints at the same time. The poem presents itself as the inner debate of a same person, through which the narrative and the history are incessantly confused.

TU FU 杜甫

"Buvant seul sous la lune

Parmi les fleurs

Seul à boire sans mes amis intimes

Levant la coupe inviter la lune

Face à l'ombre voici trois personnes

La lune point ne savoir boire

L 'ombre en vain suivre mon corps

Un instant accompagner ombre et lune

Jouir de la vie à même le printemps

Je chante et la lune musarde

Je danse et l'ombre s'élance

Éveillés communier dans la joie

Et ivres chacun se séparer

À jamais nouer liens non-attachés

Se retrouver lointaine Voie-lactée" 28

("Drinking alone under the moon

Among the flowers a jug of wine

Alone drinking without close friends

Raising the cup inviting the moon

Facing the shadows here are three people

The moon does not know how to drink

The shadow in vain follow my body

An instant accompany shadow and moon

Enjoy life and also the spring

I sing and the astonished moon

I dance and the shadow spreads

Awaken to commune in joy

Drunk each one goes his way

Never to knot non-attached links

To meet again distant Milky-way")

This poem by Li Po, of Taoist inspiration has for title Buvant seul sous la lune (Drinking alone under the moon). Despite the apparent simplicity of its imagery, the poet deals in fact with a number of subjects: that of illusion versus reality, that of the 'self' and the 'other', that of attachment and detachment, etc. Without being a dupe of illusion he invents wine companionship: his "shadow" and the "moon" which projects that "shadow". Through these figurations, sometimes divided and interdependent, he becomes conscious of his own self (sixth verse: "my body") as an acting person (ninth and tenth verses: "I sing [...] I dance"). His singing and dancing which find an echo in his "close friends", enable him to savour a shared "joy". It is true that it is only a provisional "joy", and that the poet longs for a truly and everlasting union (together yet free - the 'non-commitment') in the "Milky-way" where light and shadows are indistinct. During the poem there is at first the rise of the 'I' and then its binding refonte with the 'All', and this is exactly underlined by the way the 'I' appears half-way in the poem, while the defining of the person is absent from the beginning and the end of the poem.

TAO YUANMING 陶淵明(AD°365-†427).

Aliases: Yuan Liang 元亮, Wuliu Xianheng 五柳先生·.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

The collection of the studied poems, most of all very short, showed us how through the procedure of the ellipse of the pronouns, man speaks 'through' things. The poet does so quite frequently either with ingenuity or with malice. We are going to quote now, rather randomly, a few examples extracted from not so short poems. During the An Lu-shan· rebellion in AD757, Tu Fu· presented himself to the emperor in rags. In order to emphasize the disgraceful condition to which he had reduced himself and the solemnity of the circumstance, instead of saying "Wearing shredded sandals I presented myself to the Emperor", he simple says devoid of all irony:

"Sandalles de paille visiter Fils du Ciel" 29

("Straw sandals visit Son of Heaven")

In another circumstance he finished a long poem describing the sufferings of those who, in war times, from so much crying have no more that tearless hollow sockets:

"Yeux desséchés alors voir os

Ciel et Terre être sans pitié!"30

("Dry eyes then see bones

Heaven and Earth to be without pity!")

The force of these verses without a personal identity derives from the ambiguity of knowing who is seeing what. Either it is the poet who through the "dry eyes" of the paupers sees their faces reduced to living skulls, or is it that through the "eyes" of the paupers themselves that 'crude reality' is seen: a "Heaven and [an] Earth [...] without pity" for all those destined to die. This is also a situation concomitantly seen from the outside and from the inside. In many other examples it is always the direct communion with Nature that the poets aim to express. For instance, Li Po addressing himself to a hermit friend, instead of saying "When I will later arrive to keep you company, we will ride a white dragon in the blue Heaven", writes:

"Tard dans l'année peut-être en compagnie Ciel bleu chevauchant dragon blanc" 31

("Late in the year maybe in company

Blue Heaven riding white dragon")

The poet is no longer in the "blue Heaven" but is part of it: a Taoist dream par excellence. Similarly Wei Chuang· expresses that not only he is in the boat but that he has become the "boat" itself between "sky" and "water":

"Eaux printanières plus émeraudes que le ciel Barque peinte écoutant pluie s'endormir"32

("Spring waters more emerald than the sky Painted boat listening rain falling asleep")

§3. THE ELLIPSE OF THE PREPOSITION

In the sequence of the ellipse of the personal pronouns we have had the chance to verify the effect of the omission of the preposition in the location complements (of place, of time); which, with the non-existence of words such as: 'to', 'on', 'in', etc., become nouns in their own right ("empty mountain" instead of 'to the empty mountain'; "soft moss" instead of 'on the soft moss'; "spring sleep" instead of 'when one sleep's in spring'), which enabled them to become the subjects of the phrases. Here it is at the level of the predicate that we are going to observe the same effect. It is essentially the case where the omission of the personal subject withdraws from the verb all indication of direction, thus provoking a reversible language where subject and object, inside and outside, can be found in a relationship of reciprocity.

This reciprocity is based in the 'inter-subjectivity' so well expressed in the poem Nuit de fleuve printanier et de Lune fleuri (Night of Spring Stream and Flowery Moon) by Chang Jo-hsü·:

"Qui voguer, cette nuit, en sa barque légère, Et où donc penser pavillon sous la lune"33

("Whom drift, this night, in the frail boat

And where then think pavilion under the moon")

The verses tell the drama of two separated lovers; the second verse being interpreted two different ways:

1. "Where [is] then [ he who] thinks [ about the] pavilion under the moon?"

2. "Where [is] then [ she who] thinks [ in her] pavilion under the moon?"

The ambiguity of this phrase is voluntary, because the separated lovers think about each other, at the same time, throughout the "night".

There is a reciprocity between subject and object, as in the following two verses:

"Lumière de montagne jouir humeur des oiseaux

Ombre de l'ét'ang vider cœur de l'homme" 34

("Light of the mountain enjoy mood of birds

Shadow of the pond empty heart of mankind")

These two verses are from a poem by Ch'ang Chien· entitled Visite au Monastère de P'o-shan (Visit to the monastery of P'o-shan). This is a poem which has had numerous translations to Western languages, and obviously the ambiguity of these two verses has given rise to quite different interpretations, similarly to what has happened in the previous examples. 35

Let us examine the second verse. It contains the verb 'to empty' (which here means 'to reach spiritual vacuity') which not being designated by a proposition, the immediate constituent of the verse had at least three meanings:

1. At the "shadow [of the] pond [the] heart of man [gets] empty";

2. The "shadow [of the] pond [gets] empty [in the] heart of man"; and

3. The "shadow [of the] pond empties [the] heart of man".

WANG WEI 王維 (AD°701 -†761).

Alias: Mo Ji 摩詰.

Born in Taiyuan· [city].

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

The following diagram explains the aspects mobile and reversible of these different syntactical structures:

Let us see as a last example two verses36 through which Tu Fu attempts to bring out the relations and interrelations between the terrestrial elements of the cosmos and those to which is conditioned the destiny of man:

"Étoiles suspendre plaine sauvage élargir

Lune élever grand fleuve couler" 37

("Stars suspend valley savage enlarge

Moon raise big river flow")

The two verses being 'parallel', in each of them it is possible to observe a regular succession of nouns and verbs. In the absence of formal traces, the verbs are concomitantly transitive and intransitive. For example, in the second verse, the first verb yong· can be translated by ('surgir') 'to appear' or ('soulever') 'to rise', and the second verb lu· by ('couler') 'to flow' or ('charrier') 'to drag along'. The verses as they stand may allow the following interpretations:

1. The "moon (surgit) [appears and the] river flows";

2. The "moon (s'élève) rises [over the] river [and the] river flows;

3. The "moon (soulève) rises [the] river" and precipitates its waves;

4. The "moon (s'élève) rises [over the] river [and its] brightness flows" according to the waves; and

5. The "moon (s'élève) rises [and the] river drags it along.

So, the ellipse of the post-verbal element gives 'liberty' to the verbs, being adequate to both subjects at the same time (the "moon" (s'élève) "rises", the "moon" (fait monter) "rises" the "river"; the "river flows", the "river" drags along the "moon"). All the verses are constructed by a series of pieces which fit together. One could also start the reading after the third character of the third line and end it at the beginning of the verse. A dialectical relationship is thus established between both images: the "moon" (élan of life, human destiny) and the "river" (infinite space, timeless and immeasurable) which we attempt to express by the following diagram:

§4. THE COMPLEMENTS OF TIME

Chinese being a flexuous language, the tense (time) of the verb is expressed by the elements suffixed to the verb, such as adverbs, suffixes or modal particles. Frequently, with the intention of creating an ambiguous situation where past and present are mingled and where dream is confused with reality, the poet refers either to the omission of elements denoting time or to the juxtaposition of different times thus breaking the linear logic procedure.

There are multiple examples of this in T'ang poetry. Among others, Li Shang-yin· seems to have deliberately dwelt with the ambiguity of time: lived time and evocative time, as these two verses which end the poem La cithare ornée de brocart (The zither ornate with brocade), which theme is an amorous affair:

"Cette passion pourra-t-elle durer et devenir "poursuite-souvenir"?

Seulement en ce temps-là (on était) déjà "dé-possédé""38

(" Could this passion last and become "development-memory"?

Only in those times (we were) already "un-commited"")

The poet places himself at the moment when this "passion" occurred (first verse) and at the moment when he thinks he has reenacted this "passion" in his memory (second verse), at the same time asking himself if it really existed.

A second example is a poem entitled Mawei. • This poem evokes the sad love of emperor Hsuan-tsung· who besotted by his favourite Kui-fei· totally neglected the affairs of his kingdom. After the An Lu-shan rebellion, and on the way to exile it was hopeless to prevent the soldiers killing his favourite. After the event, the inconsolable emperor repeatedly sent Taoist monks beyond the seas to the world of the immortals in search of his beloved's soul:

(a) 1. "Par-delà les mers en vain apprendre Neuf Contrées changer

2. L'autre vie non prédite cette vie arrêtée

(b) 3. Encore entendre tigres-garde battre cloches de bois

4. Ne plus revenir coq-homme annoncer arrivée de l'aube

(c) 5. Aujourd'hui Six Armées ensemble arrêter chevaux

6. L'autre nuit Double Sept rire de Bouvier-Tisserande

(d) 7. Pourquoi donc quatre décades être Fils du Ciel

8. Ne valoir point fils de Lu avec Sans souci"39

(a) 1. ("Beyond the seas in vain learn Nine Regions change

2. The other life does not predicts the arrest of this life

(b) 3. Still listening guards-tigers hitting wooden bells

4. Never again come back man-cockerel announcing arrival of sunrise

(c) 5. Today Six Armies together stop horses

6. The other night Double Seven laughed of Herdsman-Weaver girl

(d) 7. Why then four decades to be Son of Heaven

8. No value whatsoever son of Lu with Careless")

LI BAI 李白 (AD°701-†762).

Alias: Tai Bai 太白.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

This poem is composed by four disthics. Despite the absence of personal pronouns, it is implied that the subject is the unfortunate lover although some verses seem to equally suggest the viewpoint of the lover. The first distich has no indication of time; only the second verse speaks of that "other life" and of "this life". But are we already on the "other" or are we still in "this" life, or between both realms? There is nothing which enables the reader to ascertain this. There is an indication of place in the first verse ("Beyond the seas [...]") but this also poses an ambiguity: are we still at sea or in that other land? According to an ancient Chinese tradition this land would have "Nine Regions", these having a correspondence beyond the seas with another world also subdivided into "Nine Regions". Knowing this the first verse can then be interpreted in two ways: "We will never come to know if beyond the seas the Nine Regions have changed" or "Beyond the seas where one is, one learns that on earth the Nine Regions have changed". For the parted lovers, all transformations, here or elsewhere, are in vain.

Equally meaningless is the succession of the days and nights. The second distich expresses the idea of the passage of time, but of an undifferentiated time. The 'night' (third verse) is no more than a monotonous echo and the 'day' (fourth verse) has little more meaning, either in "that" or in "this" life.

At the core of this discourse of imprecision (or undecided) time, the third distich introduces in an incongruous manner the complements of time "Today" (fifth verse) and "the other night" (sixth verse) which suggest a 'present' around which is fixed a thought (verse five evokes the scene of the killing, while verse six speaks of the happy lovers "laughing" about the "Herdsman" and the "Weaving girl", two stars which are located at opposite ends of the Milky way and that, according to legend, cannot be united only once a year, on the night of the seventh day of the seventh month). We have already drawn attention to the fact that personal pronouns, that the absence of a "shifter"40 create an ambiguous language. Here, in the context of a language equally ambiguous, the irruption of a "shifter" (today) brutally introduces in personal discourse and strongly brands the irreducible character of the human drama that refuses to be 'absorbed' by time.

The last distich brings the discourse into an objective perspective. The image of the "Son of Heaven" echoes an initial interrogation of the poem: are we speaking about earthly or celestial matters? If happiness has never been achieved on earth, it was perhaps in a previous life (the young "Lu" and her beloved "Careless" have happily lived eight hundred years before the Han·), or will it be in another life yet to come?

§5. THE ELLIPSE OF COMPARATIVE WORDS AND VERBS

In the verses which carry a comparison, also noticeable is the lack not only of conjunctive words (such, as) but also of verbs (to look like, to evoke) and of copula. This procedure can be compared to the omission of the main verb in a phrase.

The omission of comparative words is not motivated by a mere preoccupation with economy: allowing the 'brutal' closeness of two terms, it creates between them a relationship of tension and interaction. Besides that, if the poet adds the inversion in an existential or comparative phrase, it is frequently difficult to designate to each of the terms the status of subject or object; by this procedure which is not only an equivalence method, the poet 'organically' binds human events to those of Nature. In order to illustrate what has just been said we will make reference to two examples, one by Li Po and another by Tu Fu.

"Nuage flottant humeur du vagabond

Soleil couchant cœur du delaissé" 42

("Floating cloud vagabond mood,

Setting sun abandoned heart")

These verses are extracted from a poem describing a farewell scene where before the traveler mounts his horse, the two friends enjoy one last moment at sunset. Nature is not an external decor but an intrinsic element of the drama. The absence of comparative words brings, in each verse, both terms in reciprocal relation. The first verse may be interpreted as: "The mood of the vagabond is like a floating cloud", as well as "The cloud drifts according to the mood of the vagabond". In the second interpretation, Nature is not only 'a supplier of metaphorical imagery' but is contained in the same drama as the man. This idea of a participating Nature is reinforced by the circumstance that the two verses are 'parallel'. The two elements of Nature: the "floating cloud" and the "setting sun", carry a confronting relation of continuity as well as opposition. In effect they both hover together for a while, but while one rises towards heaven, the other descends towards the earth. They come to know the dreads of separation. This 'significant' relationship detaches them from being fortuitous comparative elements. The four terms in the two verses thus 'juxtaposed', create between themselves links founded by an internal necessity. The drama of mankind is inseparable from that of Nature.

Everything happens as if, through the absence of a predication the poet was attempting to overcome a metaphorical procedure by introducing an properly metonymic order.

"Soleil-lune oiseaux en cage

Ciel-terre lentilles sur l'eau"

("Sun-moon caged birds

Sky-earth lentils on water")

In these verses the ellipse of the comparative word enables a double reading, in the sense that, in the first verse the first comparative term may be "sun-moon" or an implied 'I'. This verse can also be translated as: "The sun and the moon are like two birds in a cage" or "These days (in Chinese: sun-moon) I am a prisoner as a bird in a cage". In the same way the second verse can be interpreted in two different way: "Between the sky and the earth I am like lentils on water" or "The universe (in Chinese: sky-earth [Heaven-Earth]) is inconstant and uncertain as lentils on water."

Participating from the same type of research is the omission of the verb in a phrase. Through this procedure the poet attempts to promote certain elements giving them a definitive tinge, or determining a state where the elements coexist at the same time as they entwine.

"Mer d'émeraude ciel d'azur nuit-nuit coeur"43

("Emerald sea azure sky heart night-night")

This is how Li Shang-yin sings of the destiny of the fairy Ch'ang-O· imprisoned in the moon. Between the "sky" and the "sea" shines every "night" the suffering longing "heart". The Chinese original version of the verse derives its greatest strength by being devoid of a verbal indication.

DU FU 杜甫 (AD°712-†770).

Alias: Zi Mei子美.

Born in Gongxian· county, Henan· [province].

The most prominent 'realist' poet of the Tang dynasty (AD618-907), consecrated to posterity as a 'Poetic Saint'.·

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

This type of verse, where signs are not carried by the rhythm is difficult to achieve. We will include three other examples among the better known:

1. "Chant de coq auberge de chaume lune

Trace de pas pont de bois givres" 44

("Cockerel song hut of thatch moon

Trace of steps bridge of thrushes")

2. "Fleuve sidéral automne seule oie sauvage

Linges battus minuit mille foyers éclairés"45

("Sidereal river autumn lonesome wild goose

Beating clothes midnight one thousand lit homes")

3. "Cinq lacs trois hectares cabane

Dix mille li un unique revenant"46

("Five lakes three hectares hut

Ten thousand li only one ghost")

§6. 'EMPTY-WORDS' IN SUBSTITUTION OF A VERB

Until here we have observed how, through the suppression of certain 'empty-words', the poet managed to create a sense of 'emptiness' between the words. It must now be explained how the poet replaces a 'full word' with an 'empty word' (generally a verb), in order to, once again, introduce in the verse a sense of 'emptiness', this time by substitution. In the following examples the 'empty words' which fulfill verbal function are indicated by a different typeface:

1. "Grand âge souvent route-chemin

Jour tardif à nouveau mont-fleuve"47

("Old age frequently road-path

Late day again mountain-river")

2. "Feuilles jaunes toujours vent-pluie

Pavillon vert en soi échos de musique"48

("Yellow leaves always wind-rain

Green pavilion itself echoes of music")

3. "Pays devastés seuls serpent-ganglier

Ciel-terre encore tigre-loup"49

("Devastated country lonesome snake-wild boar

Sky-earth still tiger-fox")

4. "En face de la vie vécue quel visage honteux

Au fond de la tristesse de plus fin d'année"50

("Faced with past life which shameful face

At the bottom of sorrow more than years' end")

5. "Fragile nuage ciel avec lointain

Longue nuit lune ensemble solitude"51

("Frail cloud sky with far away

Long night moon together solitude")

6. "Bois antique nulle trace sentier

Montagne profonde où donc cloche" 52

("Old wood nil trace pathway

Deep mountain where so bell")

7. "Une fois quitter Terrasse Pourpre à même désert dordique,

Seul demeurer Tombeau Bleu vers crépuscule jaune" 53

("One leaving Purple Terrace straight to nordic desert,

Lonesome living Blue Tomb towards yellow crepuscule")

§7.

The most immediate consequence of these ellipses is the relaxation of syntactical constraints, reduced to a few minimal rules. If the longest metric verses are nearer the wen-yen (written prose), the short pentasyllabic verses only usually follow two constant rules: in a syntagma, the determinative precedes the determined; in a phrase where the predicated corresponds to a transitive verb the following order should be respected: Noun [N] + verb [V] + object [0]. Let us point out the primordial role played by the rhythm, which indicates the regroupment of words. Among words, the nouns and the verbs (action verbs and qualifying verbs) as well as a number of adverbs, acquire a great mobility of combination. Because of their concision the pentasyllabic verses sometimes present themselves as an 'oscillation' between the nominal and the verbal (certain combinations being predictable: before the caesura, NN, NV, VV, VN; and after the caesura, NVN, NNV, VNV, VNN). Moroever, this 'oscillation' can be frequently observed within words. And words being invariable, their nature is not morphologically indicated, even if in normal language their usage ascribes them a defined classification. In the construction of a phrase, the nature of a word is determined by the elements which surround it (prepositions, conjunctions, particles, etc.) and the absence of these elements makes the identification of the construction frequently more complex. This comes to the encounter of the poet's intentions for whom, in a 'full' word, the nominal and the verbal are two stages virtually present. It is for this reason that words of an ambivalent nature, when placed in direct contact, confer to the verse a promissory potential and a powerful emotional charge.

Having in mind all the points argued during this chapter we can now affirm that the Chinese poet, by a reduction procedure, seeks not to simplify language to the upmost but to multiply the nominal-verbal possibilities and to introduce in language an implicit dimension, which is 'emptiness'. On both axis, the paradigmatic and the syntomatic, 'emptiness' (created by the suppression of the personal pronouns, 'empty words' and even verbs, and by the re-utilization of certain 'empty-words' instead of verbs) provokes complex substitution () and combination (-----)relationships which we will try to represent by the following diagram (p.30).

HAN YU 韓愈 (AD°768-†824).

Alias: Tui Zhi 退之.

Born in Nanyang· [city], Zhengzhou· [provincial capital].

Prominent writer of the Tang dynasty.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

The apparently static pattern of this representation should not make one forget that we are in the presence of a dynamic language whose composing elements are mutually implicated. An exploded language which proposes again the relationship between the oral and the non-oral, between action and non-action, and, by consequence, between the subject and the object. For the poets, this unique language articulated by 'emptiness', is [the source] able to provoke the word - receptacle of the 'flow'-, and thus, through that, trans-write the inexpressible. It is now convenient to once again remember the importance of the notion of 'emptiness' in Chinese aesthetic thought. Mankind in possession of a dimension of 'emptiness' suppresses distance with external elements; the secret relation which extracts from things being the same that mankind itself has with things. Instead of using a descriptive language, the poet proceeds through an 'internal representation', leaving the words to become fully articulate in their capabilities. Thanks to 'emptiness', in a discourse, signs liberated to a certain degree from the rigid and uni-dimensional syntactical constraints, finding again their essential nature of being either particular existence or essences of the beings. During part of the time process, words stand therefore as if outside of time. When the poet makes reference to 'a tree', he mentions not only 'that particular tree' but also 'Tree' as an essence. Furthermore, signs become multi-directional in their relations with other signs, and it is through these relations that the subject emerges, concomitantly absent but also 'profoundly present'.

In this way the 'objective discourse' and the 'personal discourse' coincide, thus making the inside and the outside of the same discourse. The result of this is a mobile language, entirely in movement by the rhythm (which plays the same role as the ch'i-yün·, the 'rhythmic flow' of painting), a rhythm which is not delimited to the phonal level, but which rules Nature and the meaning of words. Being part of a consonant festivity, where dance and music reenact their immemorial secrets, signs become liberated from a codified relationship and establish between themselves a free communion. Unleashed speech opens to 'improvisation'; at each turn new directions can be found. Without committing themselves to a gratuitous game, poets have composed poems of extreme beauty called hui-wen-shih· ('poems of repeated reading') which can be interpreted differently according to different insights. The most simple is a kind of poem which can be read in the normal way and in an exactly inverse way. Starting at the end:

"Parfum lotus émeraude eau agiter vent frais

Eau agiter vent frais été journée longue

Longue journée été frais vent agiter eau

Frais vent agiter eau émeraude lotus parfum"

("Perfume lotus emerald water move wind fresh

Water agitate wind fresh summer day long

Long day summer fresh agitate water

Fresh wind agitate water emerald lotus perfume")

This type of versification became possible exactly because of the reduction of the syntactic rules and the disappearance of the 'empty words'. The words only expose their true nature in relation to the place they occupy in the phrase; they acquire a function according to a certain order; if this order is reversed than they acquire another function. In the above quoted poem, from the succession of the words, following each other, there can be extracted, according to either a normal or a reversed reading, very precise meanings:

PERFUME LOTUS

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'>PERFUME LOTUS

style="mso-spacerun: yes">    

lang=EN-US style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;font-family:

宋体;mso-fareast-font-family:黑体'>

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'> = PERFUMED LOTUS

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'>LOTUS PERFUME

style="mso-spacerun: yes">    

lang=EN-US style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;font-family:

宋体;mso-fareast-font-family:黑体'>

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'> = THE LOTUS ARE PERFUMED

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;font-family:宋体;mso-fareast-font-family:

黑体'>

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'>FRESH WIND

style="mso-spacerun: yes">       

lang=EN-US style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;font-family:

宋体;mso-fareast-font-family:黑体'>

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'> = WIND FRESH

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'>WIND FRESH

style="mso-spacerun: yes">       

lang=EN-US style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;font-family:

宋体;mso-fareast-font-family:黑体'>

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'> = THE WIND IS FRESH

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;font-family:宋体;mso-fareast-font-family:

黑体'>

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'>AGITATE WATER

style="mso-spacerun: yes">    

lang=EN-US style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;font-family:

宋体;mso-fareast-font-family:黑体'>

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'> = THE WATER IS BECOMING

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;font-family:宋体;mso-fareast-font-family:

黑体'>

 

lang=EN-US style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;font-family:

宋体;mso-fareast-font-family:黑体'>

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'>     AGITATED

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;font-family:宋体;mso-fareast-font-family:

黑体'>

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'>WIND AGITATE WATER

lang=EN-US style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;font-family:

宋体;mso-fareast-font-family:黑体'>

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'> = THE WIND AGITATES THE

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;font-family:宋体;mso-fareast-font-family:

黑体'>

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'>                     

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'>     WATER

style='font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'> 

And the verses of the poem (in their two directions) can be translated as follows: "Over the emerald water, among the perfumed lotus, a fresh wind gathers / the water becomes agitated, the wind brings the freshness, the summer day is long / A long day, the summer is fresh, the wind agitates the water / A fresh wind agitates the water, the green lotus exhale their perfume."

Other poems, more elaborate, constitute true labyrinths of signs where from, regardless of its starting point, one can initiate a different itinerary offering novelties full of surprises. We will just reproduce here an example, leaving to the author his abilities to become lost and to find a way in again.

II THE ACTIVE PROCEDURES

§1.

If we qualify as 'active' the procedures which we will study in this chapter, it is because they comply to prosodic forms and rules consciously sought and defined by the poets. We will attempt not only to describe these forms and rules, but also to explain all their implications. It goes without saying that the 'active procedures' do not work independently from the 'passive procedures'; instead they are based on these in order to built a definitely poetical language.

Chinese poetry has known a continuous development of these forms. The initial epoch is defined by two compilations of songs (which constitute two genres): the Shih-ching (Book of Songs) and the Ch'u-tz'u· (Odes of Ch 'u). The Shih-ching, dating from the first half of the first millennium BC, is a collection of ritual and popular songs developed in an already agrarian society. These songs, whose themes are repeatedly the labours in the fields, the sadness and joys of love, the seasonal festivities, and the rites and sacrifices, impress by their sober and regular rhythm their versification, being mostly in quaternary metrics.

The Ch'u-tz'u appears later, during the fourth century BC (during the Warring States· period -475-221BC) in the region of the Blue river [Yangtze]· which, in that time was still outside the Chinese civilization as such. Its poetry contrasts with that of the Shih-ching not only by its contents but also by its form. Of Shamanic inspiration and Canonical style, with an overflowing of floral and herbaceous symbolism with erotic and magic connotations, its verses are irregular in length: usually two verses of six feet linked by a syllable of hsi· measure. This was the genre mainly adopted by future poets as a source of their inspiration for the expression of the phantoms of their imagination.

Under the Han (206BC- AD219) The continuation of the tradition of the Shih-ching being discontinued, the literati poets converged their efforts to the elaboration of fu· ('rhythmic prose') while the popular songs were considered as honourable compositions by the Music Conservatory yüeh-fu· -founded by the Wu· emperor, around AD 120 - who was charged to compile them. These songs, of a more spontaneous lyricism and with a freer form of expression, were gradually to become influential among the poets. Also, from the early Han to the T'ang, there is a parallel development of a popular poetry and an erudite poetry both complying with pentasyllabic metrics. During the periods which came after the Han: the Three Kingdoms· (AD220-280), the Eastern and Western Chin· (AD265-419) and the Northern and Southern dynasties (AD420-589), besides popular poetry in continuous evolution, several generations of poets produced works of great value, paving the way to the poetry of the T'ang (AD618-906). During this long period new poetical forms rapidly expanded: quartrains, heptasyllabic poems, long narrative poems, etc.

During the early T'ang, as aconsequence of the high degree of sophistication reached by formal researches and also because of the criteria set by the imperial examination system, all the used genres were listed and codified. This fixation of forms within synchrony is an important event. In the conscience of a T'ang poet, the entirety of the forms enabled him to value the multiple registers of his sensibility, constituting a coherent system in which he placed some in relationship to others.

There is a first distinction of the chin-t'i-shih· ('modern style poetry'), ruled by the strict norms of prosody, and the ku-t'i-shih ('ancient style poetry'), which is signalled by the lack of restrictions, or more frequently, by the intentional and formal distortion of such rules. Within the ku-t'i-shih· there are two currents, one popular: yüeh-fu, and the other erudite: ku-feng· which feed on each other. Regarding the 'modern style poetry' the most important firm is the lü-shih (regular octet). It is in relation to the lu-shih that are defined the chueh-chü· (quartrain) which might considered as an amputated lu-shih, as well as the ch'ang-lü· (a long lü-shih) which, as the name states is a prolonged lü-shih with multiple strophes. Together with these two genres we should also mentioned a type of sung poetry intimately linked to music, the tz'u· which appears during the late T'ang and becoming popular during the following dynasty of the Song.

1.1. THE LÜ-SHIH

Immediately, the lü-shih is recognizced by its 'economic' appearance. To the eyes of the Chinese poet it constitutes a sort of 'complete minimum'. A lü-shih is composed of two quartrains and each quartrain by a distich. Here the distich is the basic unity. Of the four of which a lü-shih is composed, the second and the third must be formed by 'parallel' verses, and the first and the last by 'non-parallel' verses. This contrast between the 'parallel' and the 'non-parallel' verses is characteristic of the lü-shih, a system formed by elements in opposition at all levels (phonal, lexical, syntactical, symbolic, etc.). Among these levels is established a network of correspondences which are mutually supportive and implicated.

We will start by the phonal level, successively analyzing its cadence, rhyme, tonal counterpoint and its musical effects.

1.1.1. CADENCE

In a lü-shih, a verse can be either pentasyllabic or heptasyllabic: that is to say that a verse can be composed by either five or seven characters, as in Chinese each character invariable corresponds to a syllable (and the words as such, in ancient Chinese, are composed by a single character). In poetry, where the syllable is the basic unity, there is no discrepancy between the level of the signifying and the signified, each syllable always having a meaning. In a pentasyllabic verse the caesura occurs after the second syllable; and after the fourth syllable in a heptasyllabic verse. In both sides of the caesura there is also an opposition in between the even numbers (two and four syllables) and the odd numbers (three syllables), an opposition accentuated by the cadence which, remarkable effect, is iambic before the caesura and trochaic after ('l' = accentuated syllable):

PENTASYLLABIC: ○●/●○●

HEPTASYLLABIC: ○●○●/●○●

This rhythm were the even and odd syllables are in turn accentuated, is made, in a certain way, by clashes. In order to utilize an image, the ceasura is like the wall against which come to crash the rhytmic waves: ○●; to which follows a counterattack provoking a contrary rhythm: ●○●

This contrasting prosody provokes the whole dynamic movement of the verse. About the opposition between the even-odd numbers, one must also explain that it is supported by the idea of yin (an even number) and yang (an odd number) whose alternance, as it is known, represents for the Chinese the fundamental rhythm of the universe.

Besides the rhythmic function which it fulfills, the caesura also plays a syntactical role54 regrouping the words of a verse in distinct segments which are in opposition and which have inter-relationships of cause and effect. In his poem Printemps catif (Arrested Spring), Tu Fu uses the image of the caesura in order to mark the contrast between certain images:

"Pays briser / mont-fleuve-demeurer

[...]

Regretter temps/fleurs verser larmes" 55

("Land break / mount-river stay" -

the country is in total ruin,

but the river and the mountain remain -

[...]

Regreting time / flowers pouring tears") -

regretting the flickering time, even the flowers weep.

On the contrary Wang Wei, through caesurae (which suggests emptiness) underlines the subtle links which exist between images apparently independent:

"Homme se reposer / fleurs de cannelier tomber

Nuit se calmer / mont printanier vide" 56

("Man rest / cassia flowers fall

Night quiet / spring hill empty")

1.1.2. RHYME

Regarding rhyme only one important point is to be taken into consideration: except the first verse, which might eventually be considered, rhyme always falls on the 'paired' verses. This implies that the verses which are not 'paired' do not rhyme - this is an important characteristic of Chinese poetry - thus creating an added structural opposition between the 'odd' and the 'even' verses. There is no rhyme changing within a lü-shih; but a single rhyme which goes from a paired verse to another 'paired' verse throughout the poem. We must add that regarding rhyme the poet must choose a word with a 'flat' tone, the longest of the four tones which belong to ancient Chinese language. This brings us directly to another important point of Chinese poetry: the tonal counterpoint.

LIU ZONGYUAN 柳宗元 (AD°773-†819).

Alias: Ya Hou 牙厚.

Born in Hedong· [city], Shanxi· [province].

Famous writer of the Tang Dynasty.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

1.1.3. TONAL COUNTERPOINT

The Chinese language being constituted by tones, the musicality which arises from the tonal combinations has been, since the earliest times, appreciated by the poet.57 Regarding its phonal level a lü-shih is ruled by strictly defined tonal rules. Complying with those the poet proposes a distinction between the 'flat' tone (the first of the four tones) and the 'oblique' ones (the three other ones: the 'rising' sound, the 'departing' sound and the 'arriving' sound). This distinction is in principle based on the difference between the first sound, which is joined to the long syllable and the other tones which are modulated, or joined to the short syllable.58 The counterpoint foresees for the pentasyllabic and heptasyllabic lü-shih, alternance schemes between these two types of tones. The poet must choose the word which has a tone which complies with the obligatory rules which are the following (- representing a 'flat' tone and / the 'oblique' tone):59

1. A diagram starting by an 'oblique' tone:

2. There is a variant for the first line of this diagram in the circumstance when the first verse would be the rhyming one. The rhyme being obligatory of a 'flat' tone the first verse would necessarily end by this tone:

3. A diagram starting by a 'flat' tone:

4. the is also a variant for the first line of the preceding diagram, for the circumstance when the first verse would be the rhyming one:

Each of these diagrams may be taken as an abstract ensemble of signs and be the subject of numerological and permutation games. One should not forget that, according to us, these diagrams are purely used in the service of poetical language; only the circumstances which seem pertinent will be explained. We will take as an example the first diagram (1.) and note two internal divisions which occur in the prosody:

The vertical lines show the caesura, and the horizontal lines show the separation between the two distiches. From both sides of the vertical line, we can observe a numerological 'even'/ 'odd' contrast: before the caesura, there are two syllables of identical tone; after the caesura, there are three syllables of which two are of identical tone, but different from that before the caesura. This tonal disposition is according to the cadence of Chinese versification, which as we have previously indicated, is made by groups of two syllables plus an isolated syllable. Therefore, in the tonal counterpoint, are the following arrangements - /or/ ― before the caesura, the arrangement / / / or - - -, after the caesura. The tonal opposition is made not only within a verse but between two verses of a same distich on a regular and symmetrical process, as we can easily see in the last diagram. Nonetheless, this symmetry is slightly 'thrown out of balance' when second diagram variant (2.) is taken in consideration:

LI SHANGYIN 李商隱(AD°813-†858).

Aliases: Yi Shan 義山, Yu Xi Sheng 玉谿生, Luan Nan Sheng樊南生.

Born in Huaizhou· [city], Henei· [county].

Famous poet of the late Tang dynasty.

LEI CHI NGOK李志岳LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

Here, in the first distich, after the caesura, the opposition between the two lines is not symmetrical but "reflexive"; complying with R. Jakobson's definition60 the first line figure finds its 'reflection', as in a mirror, in that of the second line.

About the third diagram (3.), which starts with a 'flat' tone, in order to get it, it suffices to invert the order of the two distiches which make the first diagram (1.), that is, to start by the second distich of the first diagram (1.) and to end by the first distich of the same.

According to these analyses and bearing in mind the constraints imposed by prosody, such as that the cadence of a verse is always based by groups of two syllables plus an isolated syllable, as well as the necessity of the rhyme to be on a 'flat' tone and to fall on an 'even' verse, we can propose an unique diagram61 to represent the four diagrams of variants:

This diagram could give the impression of a static composition, although the tonal counterpoint is above all a dynamic system in which an element develops or transforms itself, attracting a similar one, calling for an opposite one, according to the rules of correlation and opposition. A circular diagram is better suited to suggest this:

Going clockwise in order to find each one of these diagrammatic variants, it is only necessary to start from any of the four given points in the circle indicated by an arrow. In the second diagram (2.) and the fourth diagram (4.), the elements in between parenthesis should be abstracted.

Everything happens as if all the network of syllables -it should again be remembered that the syllable is the basic unity of the Chinese language, at the same time phonal and significant -, as to contest them, a disquiet movement would unfold, oscillating from a static or 'stable' pole (the 'flat' tone) to a 'dynamic' pole (the 'oblique' tones). The tonal counterpoint thus constitutes the first of a many multiple levelled system of internal oppositions such as the lü-shih.

1.1.4. MUSICAL EFFECTS

Before going into the syntactical aspect of the lü-shih, it remains for us to indicate in a necessarily succint way - the particular musical effects falling into the strict ambit of each of the works -, which are the major phonal values exploited by the poets.

In Chinese writing each character having a monosyllabic pronunciation, all syllables are significant and globally the syllables are possible of being inventoried. Certain syllables and, attached to them, certain initial and final consonants, intrinsic to the words they incarnate, have a particularly evokative power. For the initial consonants let us first mention a phonetic figure called shuang-sheng· in the traditional rhetoric: a binomial in which two elements are alliterative, such as fen-fang· ('odoriferous', 'perfumed'). Other examples show a particular use of certain consonants which 'provoke' a whole series of words with a very near meaning: so in the quartrain by Li Bo·, 62 Complainte du perrron de jade (Lament of the Jade Doorsteps), which describes the hopeless night wait of a women in front of her house's "portico" and where the poet uses a sequence of words which successively start with the letter 'l' and signify: roses, tears, coldness, crystal, solitude:

Yue chieh sheng pai lu

Ye chiu ch'in luo war

Ch'ueh hsia shui ching lien

Ling-long wang ch 'iu nguat

[Wade-Gilles system]

Yujie sheng bailu

Yejiu qin luowo

Quexia shui jing lian

Linglong wang qiuyue

[Pinyin system]

Regarding the finals, we should also mention the phonal figure called tieh-yun, · a binomial whose elements rhyme among themselves as p'ai-huai ('to hesitate'). In a more 'florid' example, the poet Li Yü· uses a sequence of '- an' to reinforce the idea of a tormented obsession and melancholic sighs:

Lien-wai yü ts'an -ts'an

Ch'un-i l an -s an

Luo-chin pu-sheng wu-keng han

Mang-li pu-chih sheng shih k'e

I-hsiang t'an -huan.63

[Wade-Gilles system]

Lianwai yu chan chan

Chun yi l an shan

Luoqin bunai wugenghan

Mengli buzhi sheng shi ke

Yishang tanhuan

[Pinyin system]

The phonal values are not isolated. Frequently they are manifested in opposition. It is thus that in order to mention an example terminating in '- an', which has been mentioned to suggest 'melancholy', contrasting with '- ang', which has a triumphal nuance and evokes feelings of exaltation; as if '- ang' being more 'open' would overpower the incarnate melancholy of '- an'. The poet Han Yu contrasts, in the following verses, feminine tenderness (first and second verses) with male heroism (third and fourth verses):

Ni-ni er-nü yu

En-yüan hsinan g er-ju

Hua-jan pian hsüan - ang

Yung-shih fu chan -ch'ang!64

[Wade-Giles system]

Nini ernü yu

Eryuan xiang er ru

Huaran bian xuan'ang

Yongshi fu dichang!

[Pinyin system]

In the same way, for the initial consonants, traditional rhetoric proposes different oppositions:

1. Non-aspirated/aspirated: for example, pao· ('to surround') / p'ao· ('to run away').

2. K'ai-k'ou· (without a pre-vocalic 'u') / he-k'ou· (with a prevocalic 'u'): so, hai· ('child') / huai· ('holding').

3. Chien-yin· (non-palatal) / t'uan-yin (palatal): for example, ts'i· ('sadness') / ti· ('dropping'). The poetess Li Ch'ing-chao· (ca 1084- ca 1145), inspired by her research into T'ang poetry, contrasts two types of sounds in one of her famous poems, 65 in order to indicate her sadness when listening to the falling rain.

The effect that the tonal opposition produces does not escape to the musical sensitivity of the poet, notably that of the first tone, the most similar to the other four, and the fourth tone, the harsher one. This last one, repeated several times, frequently suggests sobbing or a choking sensation. Tu Fu, in a poem66 which he composed when peace was announced, called on multiple phonal resources (sounds and tones) in order to express his joy, faced with the possibility of returning to his hometown. The last distich "After the gorges of Pa· I will cross the gorges of Wu· / and I will descend towards Hang-yang· in order to reach Luo-yang, · reads when transcribed:

Chi ts'ung Pa-hsia ch'uan Wu-hsia

Pien hsia Hang-yang hsiang Luo-yang!66

[Wade-Giles system]

Ji cong Baxia chuan Wuxia

Bian xia Hang yang xiang Luo-yang!

[Pinyin system]

The first verses contain a series of words with the fourth tone (chi, pa) and 'narrow' vowels such as hsia (gorge, narrow pass), while the second is almost constituted by first tone words and '- ang' finals. The two verses are also 'parallel', word by word. The contrast between the sounds contains a sharp impression of suffocation followed by freedom with irrepressible screaming.

1.1.5. SYNTACTICAL LEVEL

('PARALLEL' VERSES/'NON-PARALLEL' VERSES)

On the syntactical level, the most important point is the opposition between 'parallel' verses and 'non-parallel' verses. It was said that, among the four distiches which constituted a lü-shih, that the second and the third must be composed of 'parallel' verses; on the other hand, the last distich is necessarily 'non-parallel' and the first is, in principle, always 'parallel' although, eventually, it may be constituted of 'parallel' verses. So a lü-shih can present itself according to the following progression: → 'parallel' → 'parallel' → 'non-parallel'. In order to apprehend significance within this formal transformation within a lü-shih, one must first of all define what are 'parallel' verses.

Linguistic 'parallelism' occupies in China an important place both in literature and in everyday life. This is well testified in the parallel inscriptions on the temples' columns, in the tablets which flank the sides of a house's main door or of a shop's entrance as well as in the tablets of the religious places and festivities. If linguistic parallelism is the reflection of a dualistic life concept its existence is not less linked to the specific nature of the ideograms. On the two verses of a distich can be placed in rigorous symmetry term by term, words which are component of the same grammatical paradigm, either having an opposite meaning (or complementary), as in ancient Chinese each word is constituted by a single character. The two verses which follow, side by side, transmit on aesthetic grounds an undeniable visual beauty. In the preceding chapter, among the quoted verses we have already seen, are multiple examples of 'parallel' verses. Such is the following distich:

"Lumière de montagne / jouir humeur des oiseaux

Ombre de l'ètang / vider cœur de l'homme"67

("Light of the mountain / enjoy mood of birds

Shadow of the pond / empty heart of mankind")

In both verses, from beginning to end, the confronting images are absolutely regular ("Light of the mountain" /"Shadow of the pond"; "Mood of birds" / "heart of mankind"). If, as we have already seen, the distich is open to multiple interpretations it is exactly because the signs in their 'confrontation' maintain subtle and lively relationships without the poet having the necessity to 'compromise' one way or another.

Let us quote a few other examples, all from lü-shih of Wang Wei, frequently selected to illustrate the form of 'parallelisms':

"Lune claire / parmi les pins luire

Source fraîche / sur les rochers couler"68

("Clear moon / among the pines shine

Fresh source / over the rocks flow")

With these two verses among which is established a correspondence ("Clear moon""Fresh source"; "pines""rocks"; "shine""flow"), the poet created a total landscape where light and shadow (described in the first verse) respond to the sound and touch (suggested in the second verse).

"Immense désert / fumée solitaire droite

Long fleuve / soleil couchant rond"69

("Immense desert / solitary smoke straight

Long river / setting sun round")

Poet-painter, Wang Wei proposes here a composition where he contrasts different elements of the landscape. This contrast is equally within the structure of each verse (the "desert" which goes on to infinity and the "smoke" which rises "solitary"; the "river" which flows at a distance and the "sun" which disappears in an instant) as well as inbetween two verses (the stillness of the "desert" and the movement of the "river"; the "smoke" which rises and the "sun" which descends; and by association, verticality and roundness; black and red; etc.).

"Mouvement du fleuve / par-delà ciel et terre

Couleur de montagne / entre être et non-être"70

("Movement of the river / beyond Heaven and Earth

Colour of mountain / between being and non-being")

The poet introduces here the idea of a spiritual experience (of Ch'an). Between both verses there is more than contrast, there is a sort of 'transgression'. If in the first verse, following the movement of the "river" one can reach the movement of the cosmos ["Heaven and Earth"], it is in the realm of space; in the second verse, where everything takes the "colour of [the] mountain", there is a subtle transition from "being [to] non-being". All this is obviously not explicitly said but implied by the location of the words in their interrelationship.

These three examples are extracts of lü-shih. The final example is that of a quartrain entirely composed of 'parallel' verses, that is, by two 'parallel' distiches (a quartrain, being defined during the T'ang as a half of a lü-shih, being constituted either by two 'parallel' distiches or by two 'nonparallel' distiches or even by a 'parallel' distich and a 'non-parallel' distich):

"Soleil blanc /le long des monts disparaître

Fleuve jaune / jusqu'à la mer se précipiter

(Si) désirer épuiser / vue mille li

(Alors) encore monter / d'un étage"71

("White sun / the length of the mountains disappear

Yellow river / towards the sea precipitate

(If) desire exhaust / a thousand li sight

(Then) still climb / one more level")

WEI ZHUANG 韋莊(AD 851-†910).

Alias: Rui Ji瑞己.

Shici· poet of the late Tang and Wudai.·

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

In the first distich (first and second verses) the poet defines a grandiose landscape (which he admires from the top of an elevated pavilion) through its two poles which are in opposition ("mountain"-"sea", "sun"-fire, "river"-water, celestial-terrestrial) and their contrary movement (the "sun" setting in the West, the "river" flowing towards the East) raise in the reader a sensation of exaltation and tearing apart. The second distich, also 'parallel', is different from the first (rhetoric makes a distinction between several types of 'parallelism') while expressing ideas sometimes in opposition ("a thousand li sight" - "one more level") and continue ("(If) desire" / "(Then) still climb"), because for the poet what is important is to underline, on one hand, the contrast between the infinite space and the solitary presence of man and, on the other hand, the desire of man to overcome the divisions of the world ("a thousand" in the third verse symbolizes this worldly multiplicity) and to achieve its unity ("one" in the fourth verse symbolizes unity).

The four superimposed verses seem to visually represent a lived circumstance:

During the T'ang the art of 'parallelism' was developed to an extreme refinement, becoming a complex game which calls for all the resources of the language: phonal, graphic, imaginary, idiomatic, etc. But, as we have just seen through the examples, 'parallelism' is not mere repetition. It is a significant form where each of its signs requests its contrary or complement (its 'other'); the ensemble of signs, when in harmony or in opposition, transport meaning. From a linguistic viewpoint one can say that 'parallelism' is an attempt at spatial organization of signs and their temporal unfolding. In a distich there is no prescribed (or logical) progression from one verse to another; both verses expressing without transition between them opposite or complementary ideas. The first verse stops as if suspended in time; the second arrives not to continue the first but to confirm, by the other extreme, the statement expressed in the first, and finally to justify its own existence. These two verses which respond in this manner to each other, make an autonomous ensemble: a universe in itself, stable, submissive to the laws of spatiality and as if detached from the constraints of time. Symmetrically disposing of words belonging to the same paradigm, the poet creates a 'complete' language where two realms are present: the paradigmatic dimension (spatial) not becoming faded during the linear and temporal discourse, as in normal language. This language of double interpretation (one can simultaneously read horizontally and vertically) may be represented by the following diagram:

Nonetheless this figure does not really express the reality of a system where the two constituents follow each other as well as being reciprocally complementary. This development, as linear as symmetrical, could be better suggested by another diagram inspired by the traditional Chinese representation of the yin-yang mutation:

The diagram presents a movement which rotates around itself while, at the same time, opens up to infinity. Each element once appeared is cross-referenced by its contradiction, placed in opposition. A chasing game (or a chase of an 'I' always elusive?) it is alternatively inside and out, within time and out of time. This spatial structure, founded on a reciprocal justification between the two verses enable the poet to shatter, to a certain degree, the linear constraints. Numerous are the examples where the obscurity of a verse is derived from the specific use of words (a noun for a verb, an 'empty' word for a 'full' word, etc.) or a syntactical anomaly, is dissipated by its 'partner'. It is really in the parallelism where the most audacious transgressions can be noted whose consequences go beyond the poetical domain. During the T'ang, the researches of the poets enriched ordinary language, shaking its syntactical structures.72 Through parallelism, the poet creates a particular universe in which he is able to impose another verbal order. 73

This is a universe yet to be achieved. Let us not forget that the lü-shih comprehends not one but two distiches of 'parallel' verses (the second and the third); and that these two distiches are in turn inserted within a linear context, being framed by 'non-parallel' distiches (the first and the fourth). So, the meaning of the 'parallel' distich, whose structure we have just analyzed does not exclusively derive from its existence; it is linked to a dialectical system founded on spatiality and temporality and implying an internal transformation. If parallelism is characterized by its internal nature, the 'parallel' verses which respect normal syntax are submitted to the temporal law. The composition of a lü-shih is traditionally organized the following way: 'non-parallel' distiches (the first and the fourth) assure the linear development and deal with temporal themes; they constitute at both extremes of the poem 'discontinued' significants. Within this linearity a spatial order is introduced in the other two distiches (the second and the third). If 'linearity' is understood in two tempi, the 'spatiality', represented by the two distiches also comprehends two stages. Aiming at the explosion of the normal progression of events, the poet introduces by affirmation (second distich) in this new dimension an order in which the opposite or complementary events are face-to-face and constitute an autonomous ensemble. Nonetheless, this order is not static: in the third distich, equally composed of 'parallel' verses, it is reaffirmed, but it suffers a change as if being consecutive to a new order, another relationship between things being born, the relationship that the poet decides to explore in depth in order to capture the 'dynamic laws'. This internal transformation between both 'parallel' distiches is noticeable not only at its contextual level but at its syntactical level as well. In effect, it is a rule that the two distiches are a compound of phrases of two different syntactical types and that, furthermore, this difference is based on a derivative, that is, that syntactically, the third distich is to be derived from the second.

LI JING 李景 (AD°916-†961).

Alias: Bo Yu 伯玉.

Ci poet of the Southern Tang· (1127-1279) dynasty.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

However, the idea of transformation in itself is the forewarning of the eminent triumph of the open and metamorphosed time. Because, after two 'parallel' distiches comes the last distich, which must be 'non-parallel': this re-introduces the linear narration in the discourse. The order of time which inaugurates the poem retakes, at the end of the poem, all its 'rights'. Everything happens as if the poet, fully conscious of his power over language, was doubtful of a universe of certitude organized by himself. So, this affirmation of a semiotical order (through the 'parallel' verses) contains its own negation.

Within the reasoning, the lü-shih presents itself as the representation of dialectical thought. A drama in four acts seems to unfold in front of the reader, a drama whose development obeys the 'dynamic law' of space-time:

Or, re-using the diagram in page 40, which represents the 'parallelism' as a self-unfolding system, it can be said that this system is crossed by the temporal unfolding which precedes its explosion:

Moreover, this diagram suggests that this development is not linear but spiral. Departing from a past time, the poet attempts to overcome it by imposing a spatial order where he regains his intimate 'dialogue' with things (his desire to 'live on his own terms'). And if, finally, the poet plunges back in time, it will be in an exploded time, promissory of other metamorphosis. Rare are the examples in which, contrary to the rule, the poet ends a lü-shih by a 'parallel' distich, in order to assert a spatial order right to the end. The Tu Fu poem En apprenant que l'armée impériale a repris le Ho-nan et le Ho-pei (Learning that the Imperial Army reconquered Henan and Hebei), 74 is composed of three successive 'parallel' distiches, the last distich, anticipating the return voyage of the poet in the company of his friends, is a distended state of euphoria.

1.1.8. EXAMPLES

After observing all the implications of the lü-shih, we propose the complete analysis of two lü-shih: 

    TU FU 杜甫

    "Sites anciens

    Multiples montagnes dix mille vallées / parvenir Ching-men
    Naître grandir Dame Lumineuse / encore y avoir village 

    Une fois quitter Terrace Pourpre / à même désert nordique
    Seul demeurer Tombeau Vert / face au crépuscule jaune 

    Tableau peint mal reconnaitre / brise printannière visage
    Amulettes de jade en vain retourner / nuitlunaire âme 

    Mille années p'i p'a / chargé d'accent barbares
    Clairs-distincts griefs regrets / en son chant résonner"75

    ("Ancient sites 

    Multiple mountains ten thousand valleys /reach Ching-men·
    Born grow Luminous Lady / still village there

    Once leave Purple Terrace / straight to nordic desert 
    Lonely rest Green Tomb / face on yellow crepuscule

    Painted picture recognize bad / spring breeze face 
    Jade amulets in vain return / moon light soul

    Thousand years p'i p'a· / loaded barbarian tones 
    Bright-clear sorrows grievances / in his song resound")

This poem evokes the well-known story of a famous Han courtesan, during the reign of the Yüan-ti. · This lady was also known by her maiden name, Wang Chao-chün· and her title was that of Ming-fei· (Luminous Lady). Legend says that after seeing her portrait by the court official painter, the emperor granted her many favours. Besides her scheming character and her great beauty, Wang Chao-chün bribed the painter Mao Yen-shou· in order to get from him a flattering portrait - as it was practice by most of the other courtesans. She had never been in the emperor's presence. In fact, the emperor used the painting to offer her as an alliance gift to a barbarian chief to whom he had promised a wife. It was only at the moment when this 'princess' - the Luminous Lady - was presented to the envoy of the barbarian chief that the emperor saw her for the first time, being immediately captivated by her astonishing beauty. But, despite his wishes, it was no longer possible for him to annul what he had ordered.

What the poet captures in the poem, besides the idea of a contradicted destiny, is the human frailty in contrast to hostile nature, and through this confrontation, the communion with another universe, where sorrow and wonder are mingled. The beginning and the end of the poem (first and fourth distiches) are a chronological unfolding of the heroine's life. The first distich retraces her life as a young girl in her home village, while the last, suggests posthumous life, her metamorphosed existence being perpetuated through time. The linear connection is underlined by the expression "ten thousand valleys", in the first verse, which is retaken in the echo of "Thousand years" of the penultimate verse.

The two central distiches (second and third), composed of 'parallel' verses, 'capture' through some impressive images the 'tragic' situation which determined the end of Ming-fei. These images confront each other, are in opposition, and in permutation. Between these two distiches exists a relationship of transformation (static → dynamic).

LI YU 李煜 (AD°937-†978).

Aliases: Chong Guang 重光, Zhong Yin 鍾隱.

Overthrown emperor of the Southern Tang dynasty.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

The second distich is composed of two verses both starting with a verbal form ("Once leave" and "Lonely rest") followed by a preposition ("straight to" and "face on"). This syntactical structure formulates two passive phrases of a passive tone and determined wit a one-way orientation A → B, which clearly explains the destiny of Wang Chao-chün, determined by forces beyond her control.

In the third distich, the verb of each of the prepositions is centrally placed thus connecting the terms; the omission of the personal pronoun and of the preposition suppress all idea of direction. "Painted picture" and "spring breeze face" (first verse of the distich), and likewise "Jade amulets" and "moon light soul" (second verse of the distich) are placed on an equivalent level AB, in a continuous back-and-forth relationship. This gives rise to a double reading:

"Dans le tintement de jade, on retrouve l'âme de la Dame Lumineuse"or,

"La Dame Lumineuse fait tinter encore ses amulettes de jade"

("The soul of the Luminous Lady is contained in the jingling of jade") or,

("The Luminous Lady still jingles her jade amulets")

As a corollary to the syntactical transformation which took place between the two 'parallel' distiches (second and third), also the organization of the images follows a process of transformation. In the second distich, the four depicted elements: "Purple Terrace" (i. e., royal palace), "nordic desert", "Green Tomb" (it is said that the tomb of Wang Chao-chün, lost in the desert, remains forever green), and "yellow crepuscule" are at the same time in opposition as well as in harmony among themselves and together constitute a the opening 'picture' of the third distich which starts exactly by the word "picture". The decisive role played by a picture in the life of Wang Chao-chün is ironic in that instead of being an artificial picture her life really became the emblem of a golden legend. With the help of other conventional images ("spring breeze" (i. e., woman's face), "jade amulets" (i. e., woman's presence), and "moon soul" (i. e., the Goddess Chang-O trapped in the moon), all composed of attributes related to Nature, the poet subtly integrates the Luminous Lady in a universe full of solitary grandeur, a mixture of reality and surreality. So, present and past, here and there, are figuratively mixed in a dynamic space which refuses to comply to the inexorable passing of time.

Nonetheless, the last distich reintroduces the idea of time. But finally, be it life or time, which of the two comes out the winner? The more time flows, the more life is metamorphosed. Even "sorrow" and hate became diluted in the "song" (during her life among the barbarians Wang Chao-chün became an excellent player of "p'i p'a", an instrument originally from central Asia), whose echoes reach the present. 

    TS'UI HAO 崔顥

    "Le pavillon de la grue jaune

    Les Ancients déjà chevauchant / Grue Jaune partir 

    Ce lieu conserver vide / Grue Jaune pavillon 

    Grue Jaune une fois partie / plus jamais ne revenir
    Nuages blancs mille ans / planant lointains-paisables 

    Rivière ensoileillée claire-distincte / Han-yang arbres
    Herbe parfumée abondante-touffue / Île aux perroquets 

    Soleil couchant Pays d'origine / où donc se trouver
    Sur le Fleuve vagues brumeuses / à l'homme infinie tristesse"76

    ("The Yellow Crane Pavilion 

    The elder already galloping / Yellow Crane leave 
    This place remaining empty / Yellow Crane pavilion

    Yellow Crane once departed / never again return
    White clouds one thousand years / gliding faraway [peacefully]-peacefully
    Sun drenched river clear [distinct]-distinct / Hang-yang· trees
    Perfumed grass abundant-dense / Parrots island

    Setting sun land of origins / where then to be
    Over the river misty waves / to men infinite sadness")

The Yellow Crane pavilion is a famous place built on a promontory over the Yangtze river, in the present-day province of Hu-pei. · From this pavilion there is a magnificent panoramic view of the river flowing towards the sea. Since ancient times this place has fascinated the poets, many having composed farewell poems on the spot. There are plenty of anecdotes on this subject and a particular one about this specific poem. It is said that one day Li Po went to the pavilion and felt inspired to compose a poem about the magnificence of the view. He was just about to start when he noticed a poem written on a wall. It was exactly this one by Ts'ui Hao. After reading it he exclaimed: - "I will never be able to outdo it!" and, unconsoled he threw away his brush. Frustrated by the event Li Po always, looked for the opportunity to write a poem in another inspirational place, a poem as excellent as that one by Ts'ui Hao. The occasion presented itself in Nanking· where he wrote an extremely beautiful lü-shih entitled Terrasse du Phénix (The Terrace of the Phoenix).

But, to come back to the poem, we have said that the parallelism appears to be tolerated by the rule after the first distich; however it is not complete neither by this one nor for the following distich in the sense that the verses in the two distiches are 'non-parallel' beyond the section preceding the caesura. The poet seems to desire to accentuate right from the beginning the contrast between a 'human' level and that of the 'beyond'. The incompleteness of the parallelism seems to signify that the two levels are in an unequal parallelism. On one side, there is a 'celestial' order with its inaccessible splendour ("white clouds") and on another side there is a 'human' level devoid exactly of that spendour which had once been within its realm. In the first quartrain constituted by these two distiches, the image of the "Yellow Crane" appears three times, a fact so impressive that, in principle, repetition of words is usually prescribed in lü-shih. It is noticeable that in these three circumstances this is a shift in meaning which reflects a theme in transformation:

1. A vehicle which enables to reach the 'beyond' (according to Taoist myth),

2. An 'empty' noun onto which hangs the human world, and

OUYANG XIU 歐陽修 (°1007 -†1072).

Alias: Yong Shu 永叔.

Born in Luling. ·

Famous literati of the Northern Song· (960-1127) dynasty.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

3. A symbol of lost immortality.

This image of the "Yellow Crane" gives rise to that of the "White clouds" (contrast between the movement of the bird and the 'freedom' of the clouds; and a contrast of colours as well). The "White clouds" can be interpreted by a multitude of meanings, notably that of dreaming, separation, and vanity of worldly belongings. The "Yellow Crane" being absent, all that remains is an abandoned world, a shattered world, where all desires are annihilated from inception. The word k'ung· ('empty', 'vain') appears twice, in the second and fourth verses.

Nevertheless, a consolation subsists: that of the present world which remains in space (a space which still warms under the solar reflections). This idea of a life form survives despite the contrary forces of time, being reflected on the syntactical level.

One must emphasize that the third distich retakes the type of phrase of the fourth verse, slightly changing it. The phrase of the fourth verse may be thus analyzed: 

       THEME                     TIME COMPLEMENT                INTENSIFIED QUALIFICATIVES                                               
"WHITE CLOUDS"       "ONE THOUSAND YEARS"          [PEACEFULLY] "PEACEFULLY"

In the fifth and sixth verses the section before the caesura is constituted by the same type of phrase, less the time complement: 

           THEME           INTENSIFIED QUALIFICATIVES
    "SUN DRENCHED RIVER"      [DISTINCT] "DISTINCT"
      "PERFUMED GRASS"           [DENSE] "DENSE"

This phrase constituted by a nominal form and an intensified qualititive (and three times repeated in the fourth, fifth and sixth verses) reinforces the idea of a lasting state of things.

Regarding the section after the caesura of verses five and six, it is made by a unique nominal form "Hang-yang trees" and "Parrots island". A static scene; verbal forms such as, for instance, "drifting along the" (in the fifth verse) and "growing over" (in the sixth verse) being omitted.

The living nature which describes the section before the caesura seems to abruptly arrive at a fixed image. "Hang-yang" (the town on the other side of the river) and the "Parrot island" (at the centre of the river) are names of places. Their introduction, be it circumstantial, also has a certain symbolic charge. The 'yang' of "Han-yang" is indeed the same word that designates one of the principles of the yin-yang duality, the principle of active life. The name 'Han-yang' (meaning,'the yang side of the river Han') evokes a world in activity, still in the dawn of creation. On the other hand, the "Parrots" send back one's thoughts to the intensified "Yellow Crane", at the beginning of the poem. After the vanishing of the immortal bird, the world is only inhabited by ornamental and imitating birds. Birds which are only able to repeat, to exhaustion, words learnt from somewhere else.

To exhaustion? But suddenly we are already in the last distich. It reminds one of the kingdom of Time, suggested since the beginning of the poem("The elder"). This time which power has never effectively ceased to be exerted over being only once instantly denied. The "Setting sun" precludes the arrival of the yin principle. From the syntactical viewpoint, the phrases return to the 'spoken' style, confirmed by expressions such as "where then to be" (seventh verse) and "in such way as" (not translated in the eight verse, after the caesura). They recapture the linear thread of the discourse, albeit an open discourse. The final interrogation determines an irrepressible nostalgia. The "misty waves" which cover and confound all inspire to man a sentiment of sadness as well as transmit to him the illusion of enabling him to return to his place of origin.

1.2. THE KU-T'I-SHIH·

The analysis of the active procedures by which the Chinese poet elaborates a poetical language could end here. Nonetheless, as to return to the beginning of this chapter where we presented the ensemble of the poetical forms, we will briefly draw attention to another poetical form which is in total contrast to the elegant order of the lü-shih: the ku-t'i-shih ('ancient style poetry'). We must explain that it is not intended here to study the ku-t'i-shih as a specific form. I must be once again reminded that this form is the opposite of the chin-t'i-shih ('modem style poetry'), of which the lü-shih is the most representative form by its lack of constraints, its faster pace and, frequently, its more epic dimension. It would be interesting to give in the sequence of the lü-shih examples, a concrete example 'ancient style poetry' not only to show their opposite points but also the correlation between the two forms, as they were used during the T'ang. The selected example is a narrative poem by Tu Fu, a poet whose examples have already been analyze in our study of the lü-shih. This poet, traditionally considered as the supreme master of lü-shih, was equally brilliant in composing in the 'ancient style' (Li Po, Li Ho, · and Po Chü-i· being the other great masters of this genre). With Tu Fu, the selection of certain forms had profound significance. Tu Fu lived during the most prosperous years of the T'ang era which saw the flourishing of a whole plethora of poets of genius. This prosperity was to have an abrupt end with the An Lushan rebellion. This rebellion, which precipitated in China a tremendous tragedy, profoundly changed the lives of the poets, either as testimonies or as victims. Tu Fu was first exiled and then made a prisoner of the rebels. During the rebellion years and in the period immediately after he composed - as it was justly pointed out by Arthur Waley - a series of 'poems in the ancient style', works in a vehemently strong tone where he described scenes of great tragedy and exposed the injustices of war.

In relation to the lü-shih which he had previously composed within an exemplary rigorous structure, these poems are like a series of frightening outbursts. Rupture with society is expressed in the following poem through structural disintegration: 

    TU FU 杜甫

    "Le recruteur de Shih-hao

    Au soir descendre village de Shih-hao
    Y avoir recruteur nuitamment saisir homme 

    Vieil homme escalader mur s'enfuir
    Vieille femme franchir porte s'énquerir 

    Officier invectiver ah combien coléreux
    Femme pleurer ah combien amère 

    Entendre femme avancer présenter parole: 
    "Trois fils pour la défense de Ye-ch 'eng 

    Un fils dejá message faire parvenir
    Deux fils récemment au combat mourir 

    Le survivant en attendant tenter survivre
    Les morts à jamais morts demeurer 

    À la maison plus il n 'y a personne
    Seul y avoir sous le sein un petit-fils 

    A cause du bébé mère n'être pas partie
    Sortir entrer sans une jupe entière 

    Vieille femme bien que force en déclin
    Demander suivre nuitament retourner 

    En hâte répondre à la corvée de Ho-yang
    Encore capable préparer repas du matin "

    Nuit tardive bruits de voix cesser
    Comme entendre échos de sanglots réprimés 

    Aube pointer monter grande route
    Seul au vieillard dire adieu"77

    (" The recruiter of Shih-hao· 

    In the evening arrive village of Shih-hao
    There was recruiter get man during night

    Old man climb wall and escape
    Old woman open door inquire

    Officer hurl abuse oh how choleric
    Woman cry oh how bitter

    Listen woman come forward addressing him: 
    "Three sons for the defense of Ye-ch'eng·

    One son already message sent reached
    Two sons recently in battle die

    The one who survived meanwhile tries to survive 
    Those dead will remain dead forever

    At home there is no one anymore
    Only there is under the breast only a grandson

    Because of baby mother did not leave
    Go out come in without a full skirt

    Old woman although declining 
    Ask follow officer during night return

    In haste reply to the Ho-yang· drudgery
    Still able to prepare morning meal"

    Late night noise of voices cease
    How to understand echoes of repressed sobs

    Daybreak leaving along long road
    Only to the old man say farewell")

From a formal viewpoint, this poem although basically complying with the 'ancient style' form contains traces of the 'modern style' poetry, more specifically concerning the use of parallelism (broadly speaking), which starts in the second distich and continues until the middle of the poem. The whole poem, which is in fact a series of 'parallel' distiches framed by 'non-parallel' distiches, resembles an expanded lü-shih, deformed and somehow dismembered.

SU SHI 蘇軾 (°1036-†1101).

Alias: Su Dongpo 蘇東坡.

Great poet and literati of the Northern Song dynasty.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

Within the progression of the poem, composed of twelve distiches, we propose a severance after the sixth distich, thus dividing the poem into two equal sections. This severance is justified not only in view of the contents of the poem but also by formal reasons. In the first section (first to sixth distiches), the "Old woman" tries to confront a recruiting "Officer" invoking that "Three [of her] sons" already left to defend Ye-ch'eng and explaining that two of them had consequently died ["dead forever"]. The poet uses a series of 'parallel' verses, in order to emphasize the woman's attempt to resist a menacing order. The 'parallelism' 'collapses' and loses its 'equilibrium' in the seventh distich (in order to complete it, something should be added like: "At home there is no one anymore / Only there is at the breast only a grandson"). In effect, it is from this distich onwards that the "Old woman", faced with the intransigence of the "Officer", engages herself in an implacable 'substitution' process. Who must leave replacing whom? If the "Old man" got away with it (as the "recruiter" looks, in principle, for young men), there is nobody else in the house except her, the daughter-in-law and the "grandson". We must draw the attention to the 'trick' of the plaintiff "Old woman" in order to save her daughter-in-law: first (seventh distich) she says there is nobody else in the house, except... a baby who needs to be breast-fed (lit.: "under the breast") before revealing the existence of the "baby's mother", but without forgetting to immediately add that she is not presentable, because she does not even have a "full [length] skirt" to wear. In the following distiches (ninth and tenth) the mood of the poem changes and its pace gets faster. Suddenly a discourse ensues on the first singular person ('I') as the "Old woman" decide to go, instead of letting go of one of the others, offering to go with the "Officer". From now onwards all unfolds in an inexorable way. The tenth distich still expresses a faint echo of a 'parallelism' of lost 'equilibrium'; it is exactly here where the "Old woman" reinforces her merits arguing that she would be able to "prepare [the soldiers'] meals". Was she going to be able to convince the "Officer" that it would to be advantage to take a woman with him and even better an "Old woman"? The outcome is only apparent in the very last verse where the poet says that, the following morning, he salutes the "old man [...] farewell" leaving him on his own.

On the narrative level, the poet presents himself as an oral testimony which later enabled him to literally describe the evolution of the events. He is not a mere 'spectator' who stands before a situation; and this is explicated by the way the "Old woman"'s recalcitrance through which is unfolded the whole drama becomes indistinguishable from the poet as narrator. The suspense of the poem lies in this ambiguity. In the penultimate verse, it is questionable who takes the "road"; the "Old woman" or the poet? If the woman managed to go, substituting herself for one of the others, the poet, in his turn, managed to take the place of the "Old woman" (who left without seeing her husband again) in saying farewell to the "old man".

Ⅲ THE IMAGES

§1.

In the previous two chapters we have extricated the fundamental structures of Chinese poetical language. These structures, significant in themselves, do not represent ends by themselves. Breaking through ordinary language, introducing in it other forms of opposition, they strain to reach a higher level (or more profound): that of the images and their representation. Nonetheless we must make it clear that these are not elements which crown a pre-established language. They are at the basis of this language and actively participate in its constitution. During our analysis we already have several times sought a platform of images in order to emphasise a number of points in the structure. In reality, the symbolic images loaded with subjective contents are those which allowed, in a verse, the suppression of certain linking or narrative elements and, in so doing, a whole structural economy which we have already analyzed. To consecrate one last chapter to the images is therefore to place oneself on a synthetic platform and to globally observe the functioning of Chinese poetical language.

What strikes the reader right from the start in Chinese poetry is the abundance of metaphors and symbolic imagery. 78 Already, in ordinary language, one can verify the abundance of metaphorical expressions indiscriminately used by the Chinese, even to express abstract notions. One of its causes is the nature of writing in itself. It has been shown in the Introduction that the ensemble of the ideograms, by the link that they maintain with matter and among themselves, constitutes a metaphorical-metonimic system. To a certain point, each ideogram is a potential metaphor. This fact has favoured in the language the formation of numerous metaphorical expressions and the morphological structure of ideograms still pre-ordered by them: each ideogram being invariable and constituting a unity, enjoying a great freedom in comparison with other ideograms. The coming together of two or more between them (or of the images they convey) frequently offers a striking contrast and creates far-reaching connotations, better that any denoting language.

HUANG TINGJIAN 黃庭堅 (°1045-†1105).

Aliases: Lu Zhi 魯直, Shangu Daoren 山谷道人.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

Following are some examples of metaphorical 'figurations' which are frequent in language:

1. IDEOGRAMS (OR CHARACTERS) COMPOSED BY TWO ELEMENTS: 

    HEART 心 + AUTUMN 秋 = 愁   MELANCHOLY, SADNESS
    HEART 心 + MILIEU 中 = 忠  LOYALTY, TO BE LOYAL
    MAN   亻 + TREE   木 = 休     TO REST. TO RELAX
    MAN   亻 + WORD   言 = 信  CONFIDENCE. FIDELITY

2. TERMS COMPOSED BY TWO CHARACTERS CREATING METAPHORS: 

    SKY   天 + EARTH  地 = 天地                UNIVERSE
    DRUM  鼓 + DANCE  舞 = 鼓舞 TO ENCOURAGE, TO INCITE
    SPEAR 矛 + SHIELD 盾 = 矛盾           CONTRADICTION
    HAN   手 + FOOT   足 = 手足       BROTHERLY FEELING

3. SYNTAGMS CREATING SYMBOLIC EXPRESSIONS: 

    RED DUST                    = 红麈        THINGS OF THIS WORLD, 
                                                THE VANITY OF GLORY
    SPRING WIND                 = 春風        SUCCESS, SATISFACTION
    GREEN PINE, STRAIGHT BAMBOO = 青松            RECTITUDE, PURITY
    WATERS EASTWARD FLOWING     = 流水          THE PASSING OF TIME
    WILD GOOSE WESTWARD FLYING  = 飛雁           SEPARATION, REGRET
    FULL MOON                   = 滿月  REUNION OF SEPARATED BEINGS

Poets commonly use these evocative figurations. But in reality, it is in poetry that one must search for their origins. Poetical language and ordinary language are mutually intertwined; and if this fact can be said to be correct for all languages on earth, it acquires an extremely particular meaning regarding Chinese culture. Since its origins, poetry has exerted a sacred function, controlling the rites. It was fundamental to all festivities and all celebrations, and was present in all social exchanges. No banquet, excursion or meeting between friends was held without ending with the composition of poems by each of the participants or about a rhyme generally unanimously selected.

Moreover, since the T'ang poetical composition has been part of the official examinations' program. Thus poetry became a major activity in Chinese society. It was poetry which donated language with metaphorical figurations organizing them in a vast compound of structured symbols. It was thanks to this that Nature as a whole was inventoried, names being given to things and thus tamed.

In this way it is possible to consider Chinese poetry as a successive integration, as a common popular fund gradually enriched by the poets' contributions throughout its long history (uninterruptedly for thirty centuries) thus constituting a colossal collective mythology. Through this network of symbols the poet attempted to break the closed circuit and to establish a new relationship among signs and things by a game of analogies and internal relations.

However, it can be asked if such an ensemble of conventional and codified symbols does not reduce poetry to an academism based on clichés, to the detriment of a creation of personal figurations. This danger certainly exists (although, regarding this last point, we were able to ascertain that thanks to a graphic and phonal game, the possibility of creating personal figurations was still quite vast). We feel our competence to pronounce judgment on this subject. We will satisfy ourselves to observe how a poet, in his best works, takes full advantage of what is being offered to him by a signficative system, immediately situated at a metaphorical level.

§2. DATA

In a poem entitled Nuit de lune (Night of the Moon), Tu Fu, while prisoner at Ch'ang-an (capital of the T'ang) during the An Lu-shan rebellion, evoked the memories of a distant woman, and imagined her dreaming for a long time under the moon. These are some of the poem's verses:

"Parfumée brume / chignon de nuage mouillé

Pure clarté / bras de jade fraîchi" 79

("Perfumed mist / wet chignon of clouds

Pure brightness / freshened arm of jade")

The images "chignon of clouds" and "arm of jade" are conventional terminologies. In poetical tradition, it is common to compare them, the 'vaporousness' and 'lightness' of a woman being associated with the concept of a group of clouds; the same way the 'memory' of jade is apt to describe the 'pale' and 'smooth' complexion of a woman's arms. These images have been so much used that they have become quasi banal. However, here because of the other images which accompany them, they seem original and essential. In the first verse "chignon of clouds" is associated with "Perfumed mist"; both images containing atmospheric elements. Their common nature gives the impression that the second idea derived from the first. The verb 'to wet' conveniently links both sections of the verse confusing them into an indistinct unity. In the same way, in the second verse, the image of "arms of jade" is naturally connected with "Pure brightness"; that brightness projected by the moon can be conceived as an emanation of the naked arms of a woman. The verb 'to freshen' evokes a night of full moon and equally seems to describe the sensation when one has beentouching a piece of jade. So, conventional metaphors not only do not automatically reduced verses to clichés, but also allow them to create internal and essential links between images and to sustain them as such, from one end to the other, on a metaphorical level.

Tu Fu is the master of associating 'ready made' images in order to produce effects at the same time logical and unexpected. In other extremely famous verses by him, he exposes social injustice, describing the inequality which separates the life of the rich from that of the poor. He places in opposition images frequently used in a conventional way:

"Portes rouges / vin-viande putréfiés

Chemins parsemés / geler-mourir ossements"80

("Red doors / wine-meat putrefact

Scattered roads / freeze-die bones")

"RED DOORS" = rich households;

"WINE-MEAT" = expensive maid, party;

"ROADS" = without home, errant; and

'WHITE' "BONES" = unburied dead.

The first verse describes the luxurious lifestyle of the rich households ("Red doors") where there is so much meat that it gets rotten after the parties. The second verse speaks about the poor, dying of hunger and cold on the roads. Rather than using self-evident words such as 'rich households', 'party', 'without shelter', 'abandoned dead', the poet used a sequence of banal metaphors from ordinary language. First of all one is hit by the contrasting images of the two verses: "red doors" and frozen "roads" opposing each other in an internal-external relationship, while "meat" and "bones" subscribe to a life-death relationship. Finally, the two verses in their entirety are in total opposition, through their contrasting colours: "Red" and 'white'. Then, attention is drawn to the link between the images: the image of the "Red doors" entails that of the "meat" soaked in blood: the "meat" that rots seems to be none other than the 'flesh' of the poors in decomposition (in Chinese the same words means: 'meat' and 'skin').

QIN GUAN 秦觀(°1049-†1100).

Aliases: Shao You 少游,Tai Xu 太虚, Huai Hai 淮海.

Devotee. Famous ci poet of the Northern Song dynasty.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

"RED DOORS" → → RED BLOOD OF "MEAT" → → ROTTEN

"MEAT" → → "MEAT" IN DECOMPOSITION → → "BONES".

We are dealing with a metaphorical language founded on an associative and opposition double level proceeding from an internal mechanism.

Another type of figuration profusely employed by Tu Fu· is that of the names of people and places which, in Chinese, make reference almost always to a signifier.

In a poem composed shortly after his arrival to Ch'eng-Tu and in which the last verse describes the ambiance of the town (with many flowers) after a good rain, Tu Fu extremely adequately and with a fine sense of humour, adds another traditional name to this town: "Mandarin-in-a brocade-robe".

"Et les fleurs (gorgées d'eau) pèsent sur

la ville du Mandarin-en-robe-de-brocart"81

("And the flowers (saturated with water) lean over

the city of the Mandarin-in-a-brocade-robe")

Through this forename the poet, in a way, produces an image that expands that of the flowers, and in another way, suggests the joy of an exiled Mandarin in participating in this festivity during the blossoming of spring.

In another poem entitled Nuit de Lune (Night of Full Moon)82 of which we have already cited two verses, Tu Fu, then a prisoner in Ch'ang-an, a city ravaged by war, thinks about his children safely living elsewhere and wonders if they are still capable (because so young) to remember Ch'ang-an. Ch'ang-an equally means in Chinese 'Long Peace'; and the verses seem to underline with bitter irony that those children who grew in war time have no idea what are times of peace. But, soon after the war, Tu Fu moves to a place near the town of Chien-ko· in the province of Ssû-chuan, · which means in Chinese 'Sword's Door' and he does not hesitate to use this name to finish the poems where he joyfully says:

"Par-delà Épées parvenir nouvelles de dèlivrance"83

("Beyond Swords reach news of deliverance")

Up to here our observation has been limited to the works of Tu Fu. In order to confirm our previous points, we will now look into examples by other poets. Regarding the use of place names as symbolic figurations we will quote an example from Chant de l'éternel regret (The Song of Eternal Regret) by Po chü-i. In a verse which tells of the strangulation of Kui-fei, the favourite of the Hsüan-tsung emperor, on her way to exile (during the An Lu-shan rebellion), the poet deliberately uses the conventional metaphor "moth's eyebrows" which symbolizes 'feminine beauty', to describe the favourite at the scene of the murder.

"Devant les chevaux se tordre gracieux sourcils de phalène"84

("In front of the horses twisting graciously moth's eyebrows")

And later on, the poet uses again the same expression which just happens to be the name of a mountain in the province of Ssû-ch'uan, where the inconsolable emperor sought refuge:

"Sous le Mont Sourcils de Phalène rares sont les passants "

("At the bottom of the Mountain of the Moth's Eyebrows the passers by are rare")

This second image echoes the first, emphasizes the tragic sentiments of the emperor whose imagination is haunted by his dead favourite.

Regarding the use by other poets of conventional metaphors let us see the following example by Meng Hao-jan: ·

"Toi vers nuages verts t'en aller

Moi vers Mont Bleu m 'en retourner"

("You towards green clouds go

I towards Blue Mountain turn")

These two verses are a section of a poem where the poet bids farewell to a friend leaving for the capital in order to occupy a high ranking post, while he retires to his hermitage. "Green clouds" means 'getting a promotion in the Mandarin hierarchy' and is adequately employed here pairing with "Blue Mountain" which symbolizes 'errantry' and 'detachment from worldly matters'. These two images, both related to elements of Nature, highlight the contrast between the two different options (professional career, and hermitism) and the affective link which binds the two friends (as a "Mountain" is continuously surrounded by "clouds").

Let us give an example by Li Po as well:

"Empereur Hsiang nuage-pluie / à présent où se trouver?

Eaux du fleuve vers l'est couler / cris de singes nocturnes"85

("Hsiang emperor cloud-rain / presently where?

River waters flow eastward / screams of nocturne monkeys")

The first verse evokes the legend which relates the amorous encounters between the Hsiang emperor and the Goddess of the Wu Mountain (Witch Mountain). The second verse particularizes the meeting place: the region of the Yang-tse gorges, famous for its tumultuous waves in that [narrow] section and the "screams of [the] monkeys" on the abrupt ravines. The sequence of the images:

WITCH MONTAIN → "CLOUD-RAIN" → RUMBLING "WATERS" → "SCREAMS [OF THE] MONKEYS"

evokes a cosmic sexual act and gives to the verses all their evocative strength.

And finally, we quote a distich from a poem by Tu Mu: ·

"Âme sombrée rivière-lac / portant vin déambuler,

Taille Ch'u entrailles brisées / corps léger dans la paume"86

("Sinking soul river-lake / ramble carrying wine

Waist of Ch'u· lacerated entrails / light body on the palm")

These two verses, which contain a series of sequential metaphors and allusions are a section of a poem where the poet evokes, on a disillusioned manner, the happy but squandering life which he had lived south of the "river". Let us unravel the appropriate meaning of the metaphors:

"SINKING SOUL" = leading a dissipate life;

"RIVER-LAKE" = errantry;

"WAIST OF CH'U" = Ch'u women reputed for their small waists;

"LACERATED ENTRAILS" = broken heart, affliction; and

"LIGHT BODY ON THE PALM" = Cheo-Feiyen, · the favourite of a Han emperor claimed that she could dance on a jade tray held by a man.

These verses can only be interpreted in the following way: "Incessantly erring and devoted to wine drinking, I have lived idly south of the river. I have held many slim waisted women who have all suffered because of me." This denotative language does not express the unfolding of the images:

"SINKING SOUL" = "RIVER-LAKE" = "WINE"="LIGHT BODY" = "WAIST OF CH' U" = "LACERATED ENTRAILS". [sic]

"Par qui effrayé vol d'oies sauvages?

Barrant les nuages traversent le Fleuve"87

("Whom by frightened flight of wild geese?

Crossing the clouds which run across the river")

These verses are from a circumstantial poem: one day, half drunk, the poet climbed to a pavilion perched high over the Yellow river. He woke up from his torpor surprised by a group of "wild geese" in "flight". This scene of a "frightened flight" is equipped by the poet with a rich connotation:

"CLOUDS WHICH RUN ACROSS THE RIVER" = exile, erratic life: and

"FLIGHT OF THE WILD GEESE" = separation, late season, return nostalgia.

The poet understood through these momentaneous images that his wandering life had been for too long. What is questionable here is if the poet is the one who uses conventional metaphors to express the undoing of his nostalgia or if the poet was brought back to reality by the images themselves already meaningfully charged.

A similar relationship with images is to be found in the quartrain Complainte du palais (Palace Lament)88 by Wang Ch'ang-ling where the "young woman", contemplating the "willow buds" on a "spring day" "regrets" "having consented" the departure of "her husband" to a distant location "in search of military glory". The "willow buds", symbols of 'love' as well as of 'separation', were the mechanism which 'triggered' to the "woman" her repressed desires.

By what has just been said we attempted to show that the conventional metaphors which are abundant in Chinese language, when not becoming clichéd, evolved into a structured language ruled by an internal necessity and a properly metonimic logic. This structure enabled the poet to do away with the commentary-discourse and to link with great economy the subjective conscience to the elements of the objective world. The examples which we have just studied were among those which became consciously exploited by their authors and which were relatively easy to analyze. But it is also easy to conceive the multiple unexpected associations and the vibrant dynamism which other types of arrangements might provoke, based on graphic and phonal links and on other corresponding systems (numbers, elements, etc.). These games expose zones of collective or individual unconsciousness.

Regarding 'graphic' arrangements, we have already described how ideograms are charged with ideas and images and how significant they are in certain verses. It is presently appropriate to cite the example of an ideogram whose 'graphic' components give rise to poetical imagery. In China, p'o kua· ('broken melon') is a traditional saying for a sixteen year old girl who has reached the desirable age to be married. The word kua· ('melon') is composed by twice the character ba· ('eight'), which total 'sixteen' (two times 'eight'). From the 'broken melon' expression, derived from a purely graphic arrangement, many poets have composed verses which evoke the erotic idea of 'pale' and 'smooth skin' (of a 'melon'), a 'bite on the flesh', etc.

Regarding the phonal arrangements attention has already been drawn to the homophonic richness of the Chinese monosyllabic language. We will only mention that during the Six Dynasties· period,89 a tradition of popular songs systematically explored (frequently in an audacious and humorous way) homophonic possibilities - a feature which came to the great benefice of T'ang poets. What is remarkable in this tradition is that the phonal arrangements are frequently gratuitous or fortuitous: that is, deriving from a phonal similarity, the poet attempts to develop as much as possible metonimic implications; as such he goes beyond the phonal scope in pursuit of a deeper meaning which enables the rechannelling of the original image.

In this way, in a little love poem, departing from the ts'an-mien· expression ('amorous links', 'amorous encounters'), the authoress of the song associates the imagery of a 'silkworm', which is also pronounced ts'an. · This incongruous image allows her to develop the image of 'thread' (the 'silkworm procreating'). The word 'thread' is pronounced ssu, · homophone with the word 'thought' or 'desire'. Thanks to this word - 'thread', 'thought' - the woman transforms the 'silkworm' metaphor closely linked to the 'amorous' theme. From the image of 'inextricable threads' (which also means, 'obsessive thoughts') making a cocoon derives the image of the 'silkworm' which immolates itself for the accomplishment of its work: through this analogy the woman suggests that she aims at being entirely possessed by her love, even at the cost of her life. This last theme, which prolongs and deepens the original idea, somehow justifies a posteriori, the introduction of the image of the 'silkworm', previously used in the phonal arrangement.

Another poem which has for a theme the meeting between lovers after a long absence of the man. In the warmth of intimacy the man narrates the hardships of his voyage while the woman who listens expresses the sorrows for his past sufferings. Ingeniously the poet plays with the homophony of both words: 'to tell' or 'to narrate' and 'road' which are both pronounced tao.· The poem further elaborates on this ambiguity: on one hand the man who 'narrates', on the other, the woman who mentally reconstructs the itinerary described by the man. Soon, to the image of the 'road' are added images of trees which flank it and punctuate its stages. These trees called nien· have 'bitter fruits'. From the combination of the images: 'road' + 'bitter fruits', appear the expression tao-k'u· which can mean either 'a difficult road' or 'to commiserate' (word by word: 'tell' + 'bitterness'). Through this double meaning expression the imagination of the woman follows the story of the man, who endlessly 'narrates' his sufferings while enjoying being pampered.

§3. THE ANALYSIS OF POEMS

We have just seen through a number of selected examples the way in which the Chinese poets took advantage of a metaphorical language, constituted by an ensemble of symbolic figurations. For many centuries these figurations have crystallized the imagination and the desires of a people. Attributing to things a human signifier, they create another relationship between signs and things as well as intimate links between the signs - these, exactly because of the connections which bind things among themselves.

LI QINGZHAO 李清照 ( ° 1081-† ca 1145).

Alias: Yi An Jushi 易安居士.

Born in Jinan·[provincial capital] Shandong·[province].

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

We now find it necessary not just to give examples of verses in isolation but to analyze some poems in their entirety, in order to better analyze this particular language and its mechanisms. During this analysis we will develop some rhetorical notions of metaphor and metonym, according the meanings proposed by R. Jakobson. If the metaphorical process is based on similarity and the metonimic process on continuity, it is on the axis of the selection of the discourse that we envisage the first, and on that of the combination that we envisage the second. From this, the metonym, essentially dealing with the connection (of contiguity) between figurations, takes here an extremely generic meaning. 90 We must remember (despite being repetitive) that we seek above all to make understandable the language mechanism which proceeds from an 'internal development': one figuration giving rise to another, not according to the logic of the discourse but according to the affinities or contradictions which exist among them ("chignon of clouds" - "Perfumed mist"; "arms of jade" - "brightness" of the moon; "Red doors" - bloody "meat putrefact", etc.). The metaphorical figurations representing matters pertaining to Nature are richer of 'virtual' metonymics than the ordinary signs ("chignon of clouds" 'hair' > "red doors" > 'rich households', etc.), without mentioning the economy they imply ("Red doors" instead of 'inside the houses of the rich people'; "jade stepped portico" instead of 'at the entrance of a woman's house'; etc.). Rather than an element from a rigid chain, each figuration is a free unity which, thanks to its multiple components (phonal, graphic, normal meaning, symbolic imagery, virtual content within the system of correspondences, etc.), irradiates in every direction. And, the ensemble of the figurations being bound among themselves by organic and essential connections, weaves a complex network with multiple communication channels. It is thanks to this exploded structure where the 'hindrances' are reduced to a minimum, that the images of a poem, beyond their linearity, become grouped in constellations which, through their interchanges, develop into a vast network of meanings.

We now propose the analysis of three poems whose authors are the among the greatest of the T'ang: Li Ho, Li Po and Li Shang-yin. It is just by chance that all three bear the same family name: Li, unless we prefer to take it as a mysterious metomymic connection which might be associated with divinities when referring to Chinese poetry.

The first poem which we propose to analyze is one by Li Ho. Dying at the early age of twenty-seven, he left a body of works which strike as much by their non-conformity as for their tones of rebellion. Through writing in an incantatory style overloaded by luxuriant imagery, the poet awakes phantasms as no other Chinese poet had dared before. In his poetry of Shamanism and Taoism inspiration, collective myths rub shoulders with personal myths. In order to expose his version of the universe, frequently lugubrious and tragic, he invented an extremely personal bestiary: all sorts of dragons, centenary owls, gigantic lizards with flamboyant tails, wood devils surging from fire, a black lynx spitting blood while screaming, a weeping bronze dromedary, a fox which dies with a shiver, a rapacious bird which eats its own mother, a nine headed serpent which devours the humans soul, etc. In order to emphasise the secret correspondences between things, the poet associates images of different kinds: audio and visual, inert and in motion, real and abstract, etc. Thus, he speaks of the sword that shouts, of the flowers that weep tears of blood, of the wind with smiling eyes, of the colour with tender sobs, of the old red which gets drunk, of the late violet, the idle green, of the green decadence, of the sprouting solitude, of the smoke with wings, of the paws of dew, of the shattering glass noisy sun, of the musical stones sounds moon, of the void which makes heard its voice and laughter... In this universe where the marvelous goes hand in hand with the terrifying and the wonderful, the poet regulates the communion rites through blood links: "Whom shall I ask for help, before my soul and blood freeze?" "I pierce the leopard skin so that its blood may pour in my silver goblet." "The blood that the cuckoo bird spits are the old men's true tears" "My choleric blood underground for a thousand years will be green jade". But, most important than the idea of communion, what is blatant, is the challenge thrown by the poet to a supernatural order and, through this challenge, the explosion of its pulsation. The image of the "sword" incessantly reoccurs like a leitmotif.

The poet makes use of it not only in a chivalrous spirit but also as a scrutiny to all secrets of myths attached to this figuration. He laughs about all those who "are capable of brandishing the sword on others but are not able to see their reflection in it." Under its brush, the "sword" is invested with a multitude of meanings: phallic symbol (according to Taoist tradition), symbol of death (equally according to Taoist tradition which says that the sword is the repersonification of the rigidity of a dead body), symbol of defiance to a superior order (to kill the dragon), and symbol of metamorphosis (the sword which transforms itself in a dragon). The poet intervenes as a clairvoyant, in control of the multiple myths and metaphors accumulated throughout the ages. It is through this deciphering that he discovers the secret pulsation that he has in himself. It is under this perspective that we are going to tackle one of his poems: 

    LI HO 李賀

    "Ballade du K'ung-hou

    Soie de Wu platane de Shu / dresser automne haut
    Ciel vide nuages figés / tombant et ne coulant plus
    Déesse du Fleuve sangloter bambous / Fille Blanche se lamenter
    Li P'ing au Pays du Milieu /jouer k'ung-hou
    Mont K'un-lun jades se briser / couple de phoenix s'interpeler
    Fleurs de Lotus pleurer rosées / orchidées parfumées rire
    Douze portiques par devant / fondre lumières froides
    Vingt-trois cordes de soies / émouvoir Empereur Pourpre
    Nü-wa transformer rochers / réparer voûte céleste
    Pierre fendues ciel éclaté / ramener pluie automnale 
    Rêve pénétrer Mont Sacré / initier les Chamanes 
    Poissons vieillis soulever vagues / longs dragons danser 

    Wu Chih hors sommeil/s' appuyer contrecannelier
    Rosées ailées obliquement s'envoler / mouiller lièvre frissonant'"91

("Ballad of the K'ung-hou·

Silk of Wu plane tree of Shu· / rise autumn high

Empty sky frozen clouds / falling and no longer drifting

Goddess of the River weep bamboos / White Daughter moan

Li P'ing· at the Middle Kingdom· / play k'ung-hou

K'un-lun· Mountain jades shattering / couple of phoenixes singing

Lotus flowers cry dews/ perfumed orchids laugh

Twelve porticoes at the front / melt cold lights

Twenty-three ropes of silks / move Purple Emperor

Nü-wa· transform rocks / repair celestial dome

Cracked stones exploded Heaven / bring back autumnal rain

Dream penetrate Sacred Mountain / initiate the Shamans

Aged fish raise waves / long dragons dance

Wu Chih· except dream / lean against cassia tree

Dews obliquely winged take flight / wet shivering hare")

This poem has for theme a musician improvising on a k'ung-hou. The theme of this musical improvisation was frequently used by Li Ho, particularly in the two poems entitled Cordes magiques (Magical Strings). These are poems of an incantatory nature recreating the invocation ceremonies of the Shamanic witches. Here, although the incantation is still present it is above all through the images raised by the music that the poet attempts to recreate the power of artistic creativity.

At a first reading one is struck by the overabundance of the imagery which unfolds without any apparent connection. However, a reader knowledgeable of the meaning of certain metaphors and of the systems of correspondences (numbers, elements, etc.), will soon grasp the metonymic logic which connects them all. (It has already been said that the poet does without narrative elements immediately dealing at a metaphorical level).

LI ZHIYI 李之儀 (Active ca 1090).

"Busuanzi

I live upstream,

And you downstream.

Day after day,

I long to see you,

But all's in vain,

Though we both drink from the same river.

When will the Long River stop flowing?

When will my heart stop grieving?

I only wish you were feeling the same，

Then 1 would not languish for you in vain."

Translated by Ieong Sao Leng, Sylvia 楊秀玲 Yang Xiuling

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

The poem starts by the expression "Silk [and] plane tree" which is a derivative from 'silk and bamboo', a common metaphor to generically designate 'musical instruments'. Of theses images - which represent elements of Nature - the verb 'expands' with extreme naturalism on the "autumn" and the "empty sky" themes. "The empty sky" - where "clouds" are "frozen" only disturbing the weeping "Goddess of the River" Hsiang and her "White Daughters": these are the wives of the legendary Shun· king (after his death their tears over his tomb make bamboos sprout), immediately suggest a mythical place inhabited by death. This passage through emptyness is an essential test. We must be aware that at the end of the fourth verse the poet has very ingeniously placed the name of the "k'ung-hou" instrument, which graphically means 'the waiting emptiness'. The idea of a mythical place is confirmed by the fifth verse which, without transition, introduces the image of the "K'un-lun transliterations/translations Mountain", the "Sacred" range in western China. This mountain is particularly famous for its jades, from where derives the image of "jades shattering" in the fifth verse. But this image is also used in the ordinary language to mean 'self sacrifice for the sake of beauty' or 'to die for a noble cause'. The idea of a passage through death is again pursued, but it is followed in the same verse by that of a resurrection suggested by the "coupled phoenixes" (supernatural birds symbolizing the act of mating and the miracle of life).

From this point onwards, the poem consistently develops in a number of stages through metaphors and figurations borrowed from different traditional myths: "Goddess of the River" Hsiang, the "Purple Emperor" (or the emperor himself as Li P'ing was a court musician); "Nü-wa" (mythical feminine personification who melted five coloured "stones" to repair a "comer" of "Heaven" damaged by the Kung-kung· demon), "Shamans", "Wu Chih" (who, after an accident which took place during his initiation ceremony to become an immortal, was condemned to remain on the moon and to trim the branches of the "cassia tree" which grows there: a tree which incessantly grows giving no rest to the lumberman). Through these protagonists the poem shows the relationship established by music between the terrestrial elements and those of the supernatural world. This connection is further suggested by numerically based correspondence networks.

In the seventh verse, the "Twelve porticoes" make reference to those of the imperial palace. But the image of "melt cold lights" (the effect of music over the elements) which follows, makes one think of the twelve notes of the Chinese musical scale as well as the 'twelve terrestrial branches' which thus rejoin the initial image of the "tree" (to the 'twelve terrestrial branches' corresponding to the 'ten celestial stems'). Regarding the "twenty-three ropes" of the eight verse, they appear in connection with the presence of celestial bodies (The "Purple Emperor" meaning at the same time the person of the [legendary] emperor [of China] and the star with his name, as well as the phase of the moon which is called in Chinese: 'lunar rope', etc.) and evoking the 'twenty-eight celestial mansions'. Between number twenty-three and twenty-eight there is a missing number. This missing munber is exactly suggested in the following verse where the poet speaks of the missing section of "Heaven" and of the Goddess "Nü-wa" who "repairs" the collapsed "comer" of "Heaven" with five coloured stains.

Broadly schematizing, it is possible to extricate from this plethora of images, the following themes: artistic creation is an initiation which precludes tests, deathly tests from which it is only possible to achieve victory if the winner merges with the supernatural world. The relationship with the supernatural is that of a sexual order. In the poem, one can see on one side, supernatural beings (or connected to the supernatural) which are feminine personifications: the Goddess Hsiang ["Goddess of the River"], "Nü-wa" and the "Shamans"; and on the other side, masculine human beings: the musician "Li P'ing" and the "Wu Chih" emperor. This sexual realm is underlined by the phallic symbol of the music instrument ["k'ung-hou"] which presents itself disguised as a ["cassia] tree": the erect plane tree, the shooting "bamboos", the 'twelve celestial stems' and the "cassia tree" whose branches grow incessantly. It must also be pointed out that the name of the musician, "Li"· (fourth verse) also means 'prunus'. The interaction between these two types of protagonists - feminine and masculine, supernatural and human - regulates the rhythm of the movements of the cosmos. Through his challenge the artist transgresses the ruled orders and subjects the elements to a process of metamorphosis: "frozen clouds", "jades shattering", "phoenixes singing", "laughing orchids", "molten light", "exploded stones", "autumnal rain" (and it must underline that the image of "rain" is connected with that of the "clouds" in the second verse, the two combined images signifying in Chinese, 'the sexual act)', a "dancing dragon", and a "shivering hare". This last image of the "hare", apparently as incongruous as misleading in this 'forest of symbols' is itself a symbol: that of 'fecundity' and 'immortality'. In effect, the myths about the moon present it as a place inhabited by a "hare" and a toad, and where a "cassia tree" grows. The poet avoids mentioning the moon, evoking it through the animals which inhabit it, preferring to present it as a remote place or an ancillary décor, through which is sustained the ambiguity between the human and the supernatural worlds. "Wu Chih" and the "hare" are at the same time real beings and transformed entities. "Wu Chih" - that cuts the "cassia tree" - and the "hare" - which makes the immortality potion - although finally achieving ecstasies and bliss can not liberate themselves from their tragic condition. Depite all, the "cassia tree" will continue growing and the moon will shrink to obscurity. Even immortality is mortal. The final image of the "cassia tree" (sacred tree) which reconnects with the initial image of the "plane tree" (terrestrial tree) demonstrates both the sublimation process as well as that of the eternal repetitive cycle.

LU YOU 陸游 (°1125-†1210).

Alias: Wu Guan 務觀.

Outstanding patriotic poet.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

This incantatory poem seems prime for as much internal unity as for being an exception to all rules. Its universe in turmoil and its amalgamated elements are provoked by language itself. Through metaphorical imagery ("silk" and "plane tree", "jades shattering", "phoenixes singing", "clouds"-"weep" ['rain'], "twelve porticoes" and "twenty-three ropes") and the mythical figures, the poet achieves a language constantly axed on metonymy devoid of external commentaries, as if images fathered more images. The poem presents itself as an uninterrupted series of 'unexpected' metaphors, surprises which are none other than the actualization of a structured metonymic system. If we must use a figure of speech, we must say that metaphor and metonymy represent here the front and the back of a painting.

The poet is more than the narrator but also the person who uncontrollably narrates. He stands as a decoder as well as a codifier of accumulated myths throughout the millennia. Everything unfolds as if the poet were not able to achieve his own myth without having previously experienced all other myths. And, in codifying them he transforms them. This underground' passage through myths is for him also an initiation.

Li Shang-yin (°812-†858) lived shortly after Li Ho. As the former he became famous by the way he controlled imagery, but his approach is somehow different. Chanter of secret passions, he employed devices of allusion. In order to achieve his intended purposes he employs like Li Ho, rich images full of symbolic meanings but foremost employs formal astuteness (caesurae, 'parallelisms', strophic progressions, etc.), organizing them into two major vectors: linear and spatial. Doing away with narrative or anecdotal elements, his imagery relies on oppositions and internal combinations which fully reflect their connotative contents.

Through his way of exhausting all metonymic virtualities (phonal, semantic, and iconographic) which an image provokes, he is close to the Six Dynasties popular tradition which has been previously mentioned. A lü-shih of his has been selected for the following analysis: 

    LI SHANG-YIN 李商隱

    "Cithare ornée de brocart
    Ⅰ1. Cithare ornée pur hasard / voici cinquante cordes
    2. Chaque corde chaque chevalet / désirer années fleuries 

    Ⅱ3. Lettré Chuang rêve matinal/ s'illusionner papillon
    4. Empereur Wang cœur printanier / se transformer tu-chüan 

    Ⅲ5. Mer profonde lune claire / perles avoir larmes
    6. Champ Bleu soleil ardent/jades naître fumées 

    Ⅳ7. Cette passion pouvant durer / devenir poursuite-souvenir 
    8. Seulement au moment même / déjà dépossédé"92

    ("Zither adorned with brocade 

    Ⅰ1. Zither ornate pure chance / fifty strings here

    2. Each string each fret / which flourishing years

    Ⅱ3. Writer Chuang· early morning dream / butterfly gets illusions
    Ⅱ4. Wang· emperor spring heart / tu-chüan· becomes transformed

    Ⅲ5. Deep sea bright moon / pearls have tears
    6. Blue Field scorching sun /jades born smokes

    Ⅳ7. This passion providing last / become chase-memory
    8. Only at the very moment / already non possessed")

This poem written in a 'laconic' style, has for its theme the memory of a passion. The first distich immediately characterizes the ambiguous level of the poem. The poet derives his basic theme from an object real as well as legendary: that of a chin-se· ("zither"), a musical instrument with "fifty [horizontal] strings". Usually a chin-se only has twenty-five strings. But it is true that a legend says that its origin - in remote antiquity of China - the instrument effectively was constituted by fifty strings but that, during an audition by a Chou "emperor", the sovereign being torn apart by the poignancy of the music played by one of his favourites, had ordered the number of strings to be reduced by half. The first distich clearly expresses that the "emperor" faces a real object (the memories left by a beloved woman?), but it is also speculative if he is not equally dreaming about an imaginary object through which he was able to identify himself with an inconsolable lover in remote antiquity. One way or another, the image of the "zither" enables the poet not to identify himself as an 'I', the musical instrument becoming the object of metamorphosis. These "fifty strings" may stand for the age when the poet composed the poem (certain researchers hypothesize that the poet wrote these verses when he was aged fifty). However, these "years" converge towards an obsessive image: that of a flower (which itself makes allusion to that of the "brocade") which is not just a mere decorative element but suggests a desire of withdrawal and disquiet. The images of the "strings" and their "frets" are related to sexual nuances: according to the Taoist tradition, a woman's sex is designated as 'musical strings' and that of a man's by 'column of jade' (in Chinese the words 'column' and 'bridge' [in the musical context] being represented by the same word). So, the "zither" which abruptly starts the poem gives rise to a number of ambiguous questions by its multiple allusions and the 'echo' of its melody: is the poem's action a past experience or a dream? Is it an identification of one's self or a double unfolding? Is it the chase for a never accomplished desire or an infinite quest for the other?

XIN QIJI 辛棄疾 (°1140-†1207).

Aliases: You An 幼安, Jia Xuan 稼軒.

Born in Jinan, Shandong [province].

Patriotic poet.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

These questions will never be addressed explicitly by the poet. Perforating the narrative and being without transition, the spoken address of the first distich, it introduces in the two following 'parallel' distiches (second and third) a spatial organization of signs based on a 'reversible equivalence' (the second distich) and on a 'circular sequence' (third distich). Thanks to these structures and without necessity of further commentaries, the images are self-significant, attracting and combining among themselves to create a complex network with a particular internal logic. Through these images it is possible to grasp the themes of the chase of a memory and a desire, of a passion either lived or dreamed about, of a search through life in transformation during the cyclical time which might enable the two lovers to meet again.

The two distiches are articulated as follows: the second distich elevates the poem to the metaphorical level, and from that level opens up to a metonymic level which the poet explores in the third distich, which is constituted by a sequence of images in continuous unfolding. Let us first analyze the symbolic meaning related to the images represented in the second distich:

"Writer Chuang [...] / butterfly [...]": once, the Chinese philosopher Chuang-tzü· wakening from a dream in which he was a butterfly, asked himself if, after all, he really dreamed about being a butterfly or if, on the contrary, it was the butterfly who had dreamed of becoming Chuang-tzü. Was he really Chuang-tzü while awake or was he the product of the dream of a butterfly? The philosopher demonstrates here the Taoist concept dealing with the illusion of life and the identity of beings.

"Wang emperor [...] / tu-chüan [...]": according to the legend, the emperor Wang Shu·, not being able to find solace after the death of his favourite, relinquished the throne and disappeared, his soul being later transformed into a tu-chüan ('cuckoo'), whose cry resembles a person weeping. When singing, the cuckoo frequently spat blood which itself turned into bright red flowers of the sort that can be abundantly found in the land of Shu and which are aptly called tu-chüan flowers (a kind of 'poppy'). Thus, the tu-chüan symbolizes 'a passion of short duration' which becomes distended in metamorphosis. We should also notice that for the "Writer Chuang [...] / butterfly [...]" as well as for the "Wang emperor [...] / tu-chüan [...]" there is a sex change - both the "butterfly" and the 'cuckoo' always had in the Li Shang-yin poetry a feminine connotation.

If the poet identifies himself with the "Writer Chuang" and the "Wang emperor", these two, are respectively placed at a comparative level with the "butterfly" and the 'cuckoo'. This sequence of 'comparative levels' is underlined by the grammatical structure of the two phrases. The two verses being 'parallel' have an identical structure: two animated themes (A and B) connected by a verb. The two verbs "gets illusions" and "becomes transformed", which commonly being used as transitive verbs, are 'neutralized' by the omission of post-verbal elements (for instance, by a preposition such as 'to' or 'in'). This way, the progression of the phrase rather than being in one direction only: A → B, becomes reversible: AB. This way, the second verse can, for example, be read: "the heart of the Wang emperor transforms itself into a cuckoo" or, inversely: "a cuckoo transforms itself into the heart of the Wang emperor". Through the syntaxical audacity, the poet places on the reversibility level both human elements and those of Nature, in order to signify that, if his past passion and his unquenched desire are moved by another order of things, he still nurtures the hope of finding them again. On the other hand, as the two verses are 'parallel', "morning dream" and "spring heart", "butterfly" and 'cuckoo' confront each other at the same time as they are in opposition; on one side, "illusion", 'forgetfulness' and 'carelessness'; on another, "chase-memory", 'carnal desire' and 'tragic passion'. These two irreconcilable poles represent the conflict of the poet, enhanced by the formal organization of the poem.

This distich, structured on the 'equivalence' level has a metaphoric nature (holding a metonymic structure: 'dream'-"butterfly", 'heart' -"tu-chüan"). It establishes analogy links between different types of beings (and between different realms): first, between the poet and the two protagonists ("Chuang" and "Wang"); secondly, between these protagonists and the "butterfly" and the "tu-chüan" -- beings of the animal kingdom. Finally, the image of the animal kingdom implies that of the vegetal kingdom, represented by the flower ["flourishing years"]. All these established links generate the idea of interchangeability and transformation and open up over a wide metonymic field which the poet explores in the following distich.

The third distich is composed of a sequence of metaphors connected by contiguous links. The two verses start, respectively, with images of "[Deep] sea" and "[Blue] Field" which combined, in Chinese, mean 'transformation'.93 Beyond the animal and the vegetal kingdoms, the search of the poet further expands; it reaches the mineral world, represented by "pearls" and "jades". We must poit out which are the myths contained in these two verses.

Fifth verse: In the south "sea", mermaids appear in the full "[bright] moon" nights, the "tears" that they pour become "pearls".

Sixth verse: In the "Blue Field" (in the actual province of Shen-si·, famous for its "jades"), the "sun" provoke emanations which offer fantastic visions (but only, when seen from considerable distance). Another myth tells that an old man planted seeds which had been given to him by an unknown passer-by, in reward for his generosity. These seeds, when they sprouted, became beautiful "jades", thanks to which he was able to marry the maiden he coveted.

It is not difficult to understand the metonymic links which bind these images: for instance, in the fifth verse, the interaction between the "sea" and the "moon", and the analogies of 'brightness' and 'roundness' between the "moon" and the "pearls", and the "pearls" and the "tears", and finally, the image of "tears" being that of a liquid element (because in Chinese the expression exists of: 'a sea of tears'), which relates to the initial image of the "sea". Both verses constitute a circular connection each:

Attention must be drawn to the fact that related to the expression 'a sea of tears' there is also in Chinese the expression 'a sea of smokes'. According to this relationship the second verse relates back to the beginning of the first verse. The two circular connections can be represented by the following diagram (which has already been used in order to illustrate the 'parallelism'):

JIANG KUI 姜夔(°1155-†1???).

Aliases: Rao Zhang 饒章, Baishi Daoren 白石道人.

Famous ci poet of the Southern Tang dynasty.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

These combined circular connections, despite their coherence, define an 'emptiness' and an absence. Inbetween the animal kingdom and the second distich, and the mineral kingdom and the third distich, there is always the image of the flower ["flourishing years"] mentioned in the first distich and suggested by the "butterfly"-"smokes" and the "tu-chüan"-"tears". The absent flower (the desired woman) is exactly the object of the poet's search. Bearing in mind the two legends of the third distich (both connected to the appearance of a woman) and equally having in mind the particular meanings connected to the images of the "moon", the "waves", the "pearls" and the "jades" (in Chinese, a multitude of expressions based on these images describe feminine beauty: the 'body of a woman', the 'stare of a woman', the 'hair of a woman', and the 'face of a woman', one can really sense, beyond its absence, the physical presence of the beloved woman which provokes the magic of the ode. The circular sequence represented by the last diagram, also suggests the belief of the poet in the possibility of an encounter in another life.

If this search of the poet through time and kingdoms is greatly enhanced by the prosaic linearity, one should not forget that, as in the precedent distich, the fifth and sixth verses are 'parallels'. The terms which are confronted in these two verses, because of their combinations, expose other meanings:

"SEA"-"FIELD" = universal transformation, vicissitudes of human life;

"SUN"-"MOON" = cosmic movement, passing of time (day and night, days and months), eternity;

"PEARLS"-"JADES" = traditionally associated to a great number of expressions: human treasures, harmony within a couple, melodious musical sounds (the expression 'buried pearls and jades' meaning 'a dead beautiful woman'); and

"TEARS"-"SMOKES" = tragic passion, vain passion.

Other significant combinations are still possible:

"SEA"-"SUN" = to be born again; and

'DRIED' "SEA"-'ROTTEN STONE' = indestructible passion.

Besides these binomials which connect the two verses, one must mention the two verses in their entirety, one being yin ("moon", "sea") and the other yang ('sun', 'fire'). When placed in 'parallel', the two verses give rise to the image of mating (yin-yang :woman-man). Through these carnal connections, manhood and womanhood are forever separated yet united.

In this way, in the distich, while according to the syntagmatic axis the theme of the "dream" created in the precedent distich unfolds ("Writer Chuang"), on the paradigmatic axis, between the two verses, the theme of desire unfolds ("Wang emperor"). A reader aware of the symbolic meanings of all these images, when rhythmically scanning both verses, beyond their 'direct' language ("Beyond everything, night and day, I search for you and I desire you. Come to me, together one into the other, we will be reborn [...]")94, brings to the surface from the deepest profundities of meanings the figurations and the gestures of an obsessive mind.

The three distiches which we have just analyzed are contained within a continuous evolutive process, without the most deeply rooted elements of a denotative language trapping them in a unique direction. Behind all images, structured and exploded, one can guess, subjacent an 'I' and a "you' which guarantee a certain unity. Neither one nor the other are mentioned, because one does not exist without the other; and neither one nor the other are to be found except in this passionate search, a pursuit signified by a series of metaphorical strata, each stratum being manifested by a series of figurations interrelated between themselves:

The last distich, leaving the language of 'parallel' structure, reintroduces the linear delivery introduced in the first distich. The seventh verse may be interpreted as a supplication as well as an interrogation (in Chinese, being the same type of phrase): would that passion last (as the "zither" which remained)? And, through this reenactment of this game, could one find the original delivery? (Attention is drawn to the image of the "zither" not reappearing in the poem: as if the instrument had silenced itself by a delivery which is none other than the poem itself). The distich contains three characters all containing the 'heart' radical 忄(the first starting the distich and the third finishing it) which respond to the only 'heart' word in all the poem: "spring heart", in the fourth verse. Their presence apparently expresses the adventure belonging to an inner realm. They are passion·情, "[chase]-memory" 憶 and wang 惘 which has the same pronunciation as the "emperor"'s name ["Wang"], thus emphasizing his presence and contributing towards the coherence of the poem. This word, which has a variety of images, can mean: "possessed" ('the heart caught in a web') and "not possessed" ('the unattainable void of absence'). Through this word full of ambiguity and apparent contradiction, the end of the poem situates itself in the real where all that is present is validated by absence and where the time of the past passion is confused with that of its search.

To conclude, we will analyze a quartrain by Li Po which represents an extreme case, although frequent in Chinese poetry. It is about understanding how, in a poem where all descriptive elements are educed to a minimum, the symbolic images create an homogeneous paradigm and create a spatial order in which, although being in opposition, they are transformed in interchangeable entities. Through this structure, concomitantly exploded and unifying it (such as a constellation) that emphasises its economy of means, a metaphorical language becomes evident - where subject and object, inside and outside, near and far are the facets of a prism incessantly radiant: 

    LI PO 李白

    "Perron de jade

    Perron de jade naître rosée blanche
    Tard la nuit pénétrer bas de soie
    Cependant baisser store de cristal
    Par transparence lune d'automne"95

    ("Jade stepped portico 

    Jade stepped portico born white dew 
    Late at night penetrate silk stockings 
    Meanwhile lower crystal blind
    Through transparency contemplate autumn moon")

MA ZHIYUAN 馬致遠 (°1270-†1330).

Aliases: Yi Heng 以行, Dong Li 東籬.

Born in Dadu· [city].

Famous dramatist of the Yuan (1279-1368) dynasty.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

The poem [see: p. 36] has for its theme the night wait of a woman in front of her house's "portico", a long, final and deceiving expectancy: her lover will not come. Frustrated, but also because of the "night"'s chill, she withdraws to her bedroom. There, through a lowered "crystal blind", she still lingers, confiding her regret and her longings to the "moon", so near (due to its brightness) and yet so distant.

An interpretation to this poem has just been proposed. However, in the poem, the narrative elements are no more that a few neutral action verbs, while the words describing feelings such as 'solitude', 'deception', 'frustration', 'regret', the 'desire of the encounter', etc., are totally absent. The personal noun, as prescribed by Chinese poetical tradition is equally absent. Who speaks? A 'she' or an 'I'? The reader is invited to reenact the feelings of the protagonist 'from the inside'; although these sentiments are only suggested by gestures and a few objects.

The poem presents itself as a sequence of images: "Jade stepped portico", "white dew", "silk stockings", "crystal blind", 'ling-long'· ("through transparency"), "autumn moon". A reader aware of the Chinese poetical symbolism will have no problem in extracting its connotative meaning:

"JADE [STEPPED] PORTICO" = cold night, lonely time, tears; and a certain erotic nuance as well;

"SILK STOCKINGS" = the body of a woman;

"CRYSTAL BLIND" = the interior of a gynaeceum; and

"LING-LONG"= this word which has been translated in the fourth verse as "through transparency", has a variety of meanings.

Although initially evoking the jingling sound of the jade pendants, it is also used to qualify precious and sparkling objects, as well as faces of women and children. In this context it stands for a double meaning: for the woman who stares at the "moon" and for the "moon" which lights the woman's face. From a phonal point of view the sequence of words contained in the preceding verses, are words which successively start with the letter '1' and stand for 'shining' and 'transparent objects': lu. ("dew"), luo• ("silk"), and lien• ("crystal blind"); and "AUTUMN MOON" = distant presence and desire of reunion (distant lovers may look at the moon, at the same time; and because of this, the full moon symbolizes the 'reunion of loved beings').

Through this sequences of images the poet creates a coherent world. The linear progression is sustained at a metaphorical level. What all these images have in common is that they all represent 'shining' and 'transparent objects'. Each one of them seems to derive from the precedent, in a regular sequence. This sensation of regularity is confirmed in the syntactical level by the regularity of the phrases of identical typology. The four phrases which constitute the poem can all be analyzed by the same diagram:

COMPLEMENT + VERB + OBJECT

Such a regularity imprints the poem with nuances of an inexorable order: in each of the four phrases, the verb is situated at the centre, is determined by a complement and leads to an object. Bearing in mind the omission of the personal subject, the poem stands as part of a process of chained connections and where, successively, one image progresses to the next, from the first to the last.

COMBINATION AXIS SELECTION AXIS

This diagram suggests a linear progression in a single direction. But from an imaginary 'viewpoint', the last image ("moon" light) could be connected to the first ("stepped portico") passing through all the others:

as transparent or crystalline objects 'shine' with the 'brightness' of the "moon" which, rising at the very last moment 'completes the itinerary' of the poem as if in order to give each image its full significance, or rather, its full impact. This "moon" which once again 'shines' over the empty "stepped portico" accentuates regret; the 'circular movement' of the poem underlines an obsessive thought that incessantly comes up, again and again.

This organization, paradigmatic within the 'linear development' allows on the level of the images to verify the dominant characteristics of poetical language as defined by R. Jackobson: the projection of the 'selection axis' over that of the 'combination'. With great subtlety the poet explodes language, introducing in the temporal order of the poem a spatial dimension. Through their opposition, the images provoke, as if 'naturally', a meaning:

This method of giving free rein to the images is in itself the condition for the economy of the structure, a structure which binds in itself the outside and the inside, the near and the distant, and more than ever the subject and the object. The inner world is projected to the outside while the outer world becomes a sign of the interior world. This "jade", is at the same time the "stepped portico" and the 'woman's flesh'; this "dew" is at the same time the 'cool' of the "night" and the 'woman's desire'; this "Ling-long " is at the same time the 'face of the woman who stares' and the "moon" seen through the "crystal blind"; and this "moon" is at the same time 'a distant presence' and 'an intimate feeling', which provokes in each of its associations with the mentioned objects a new sensation.

JING JIE 蔣捷 (Active ca 1270).

Aliases: Sheng Yu 勝欲, Zhushan 竹山.

Ci poet of the Song (960-1279) and Yuan [1279-1368] dynasties.

LEI CHI NGOK 李志岳 LI ZHIYUE

1995. Colour inks on rice paper. 23.0 cm x 33.0 cm.

Making use of a metaphorical language, we could perhaps say that beyond a 'down to earth' narrative stands a celestial vault in which drift luminous figurations constituting a "constellation". Linked by metonymic connections, transforming chance in necessity, they are situated in interrelationship and in attraction, and become glowingly apparent by their cross-fires. Among them 'shines' a planet of particular 'brightness': the "moon". Towards it converge other stars; it being in charge of human desire it finally comes to outshine in all others. This "moon", one of the fundamental symbols of Chinese classical poets, of an essentially 'nocturne' sensibility, reveals, by the intervention of the signs of the primordial rhythm, the secret of a "night" of myth and communion.

Translated from the French original by: Dominique Audart

** Revised reprint from: CHENG, François, L'Écriture Poétique Chinoise Suivi d'une Anthologie des poèmes des T'ang Èdition révisée em 1982, Paris, Èditions du Seuil, 1982, pp.11-191 [lst edition: 1977].

** In this collection of "Chinese Poets"'s ink drawings, each English subtitle follow the text of the original Chinese colophon pertaining to the respective illustration.

NOTES

Translator's introductory note:

TEXT: In a number of cases, the impossibility of coherently reverting into English both the supporting French transliterations/translations of Chinese poems/extracts of poems/titles of poems in the TEXT and their respective and their basic explanatory TEXT, due to grammar and syntax discrepancies between the French and the English languages, led to the overall standardization of including the French transliterations/translations of Chinese poems/extracts of poems/ titles of poems followed by their respective English transliteration/translation.

NOTES: Discrepancies between French transliterations/ translations of Chinese poems/extracts of poems/titles of poems in the TEXT and in the respective NOTES were kept according to the basic French edition. For comparative reference, whenever possible, an English version of the same poem/extract of poem/title of poem follows its respective French version.

Extracts of poems quoted by the author in the TEXT and repertoried in the NOTES, are underlined and contextualised in each corresponding poem, in full, according to their respective French version. English version of poems/extracts of poems/titles of poems in the NOTES are respectively complementary and not coincidental to their respective poems/extracts of poems/titles of poems in the TEXT.

1 The first known specimens of Chinese writing are divination texts on bones and tortoise shells. Archaich bronze ritual vessels also display inscriptions. These two types of writing were practised during the Shang• period (XVIII-XI centuries BC).

2 The Shih-ching (Book of Songs) was the first compilation of 'canticles' of Chinese literature. It contains works dating as far back as the first millenium BC.

3 We are not dealing here with a presentation exclusively based on etymology. Basically, our viewpoint is semiological: above all, what is here attempted is to explicate the signific graphic connections which exist between the signs.

4 Regarding the way in which are understood - either explicitely or implicitely, and according to traditional Chinese rhetoric - the linguistic signs and their functions (a problem which going beyond the parameters of this research, deserves to be systematically studied), the following works should be consulted: the Wen-fu by Lu Chi (AD°261-†303), and the Wen-hsin tiao-long. by Liu Hsieh. (AD°465-+522). What must be here, above all, underlined is the affirmation of mankind as an element of the universe. Mankind together with the sky [Heaven] and the Earth constitute the San-t'ai• (Three Geniuses). These have between them an interrelationship of complementarity and correspondence. The role of mankind consists not only to inhabit the universe but to interiorise all matters, recreating them so that mankind may reassert itself within the the universe. In the process of 'co-creation', the central element of of the literary realm, is the notion of wen •. This concept was to become part of numerous characters meaning 'language', 'style', 'literature', 'civilization',-etc. Originally wen meant the 'imprint' left by some animals, the 'grain' of wood and the 'veins' of stones, an ensemble of harmonious and rhythmic 'traces'; signifiers of Nature. The creation of language signs (equally called wen) derives from the image of these 'traces'. In a certain way, this double origin of wen, constitutes a guarantee to mankind in the unravelling of the mysteries of Nature, and through these, of the 'nature' of mankind itself. This 'vital flow' which animates and reconstitutes the relationships between all matter certainly is a masterpiece!

5 詩成泣鬼神 Shicheng qi guishen.

6 The image of the 'eye' is of foremost importance in Chinese artistic conception. Regarding painting, it is pertinent to remember the anecdote of the painter who always drew eyeless dragons. To all those who questioned him about this strange practise he would invariably reply: - "Because at the moment I add the eyes the dragon would immediately take flight!"

7 Concerning this notion, we give the example of a verse by Li Ho: 筆補造化天無功 Bibu zaohua tian wugong ("When the brush perfects Creation, Heaven is not totally meritorious!").

8 Wang Wei: Hsin-i wu.

9 These two ideograms intrinsically mean the 'lotus' flower. The poet borrows them here suggesting the image of a 'magnolia' flower which is visually similar to that of a 'lotus'.

10 Tu Fu: Je san-shou.•

Chang Jo-shü: Ch'un-chiang-hua-yüeh-ye.· This poem is studied in detail in my text: Analyse formelle de l'oeuvre poétique d'un auteur des T'ang: Zhang Ruo-xu (Formal analysis of the poetical work of a T'ang author: Zhang Ruo-xu).

12 The theory of the 'primary brushstroke' already expostulated by Chang Yen-yuan (AD°810-†ca880) in his Laiti ming-hua, by was to be developed by other painters, namely Shi T'ao(°1671-†1719) in his Hua-yu lu.

13 Ch'i-yün ('vital flow').

14 Regarding literature, it is apt to remember Ts'ao P'ei's· (AD°187-†225) phrase in his Tien-lun lun-wen:• 文以氣爲主 "Wen I Ch'i wei chu" ("In literature: The primacy of the flow."). This work is generally considered a pioneer of Chinese literary critique. Also in Liu Hsieh (AD°465-†552) Wen-hsin tiao-long's· 養氣"Yang Ch'i" ("Nourishing The flow") chapter.

Regarding painting, we are just adding Hsieh He's (active AD500) famous phrase: "Ch'i-yün sheng-tong"• ("To animate the rhythmic flow.").

15 More specifically, pertaining to Taoist philosophy.

16 The division of words in these two major categories vary according to works and epochs. Although all the major Shih-hua·('On Poetry') consistently debated this problem, it is also true that their authors do not specifically determine categories, these being only defined through the numerous examples that they quote in order to support their arguments.

See: CHENG Tei -MAI Mei-ch'iao's,· Ku-han-yü yu-fahsüeh hui-pien· ―For a comprehensive study on this subject.

17 See: II, pp. 31-32

18 The historical situation which conditioned the production of this type of poetry may be resumed as follows: after centuries of internal alliances and the [foreign] invasions which followed the Han dynasty, China was reunified during the T'ang dynasty. Thanks to an efficient administration, the imperial government was able to control the whole nation. However, the archaich structure of a feudal society was shaken by the creation of large scale urban conglomerations, the development of an expanded communication network, and a vast commercial implementation. On the other hand, the recruitment of civil servants through official examinations developed an increasing social mobility. On the cultural level, if the unity of the nation brought again to China the lost consciousness of an internal identity, it also opened the country to multiple external influences, mainly from India and Central Asia. The capital of Ch'ang-an· became a cosmopolitain metropolis where were exchanged numerous intellectual ideologies, thus giving rise to a society concomitantly respectful of order yet effervescent with an extraordinary creative drive.

Despite all, a major event which took place during the years 755-763 came to shake the foundations of the dynasty: the rebellion commanded by a barbarian general called Lu-shan, which caused a great number of deaths and gave rise to all sorts of abuses and injustices. This rebellion brought the dynasty to its end. The poets who lived during this tragic period and those who followed it, produced works which no longer eulogised 'confidence' but expressed a 'deep dramatic state of consciousness'. The theme of their works became centred on the reenactment of survival dramas rather than in the affluent description of social realities. Their works suffered the influence of the evolution of society.

19 This essay being also addressed to those without much knowledge of Sinology, has adapted - among the several transcription systems currently in use - the Wade-Giles system, which remains to the present the most popular and commonly used in the West. On the other hand, we decided to transcribe the words according to the present pronunciation.

[Translator's note: Throughout the text all transliterations were kept according to the French original edition. For a pinyin romanisation of these transliterations see the "Comprehensive Chinese Glossary" at the end of this issue. Entries of this text are made for all words indexed with a superciliary dot (·) according to the transliteration originally given by the author.].

20 We quote [the marquis d'] Hervey Saint-Denys on the difficulty of translating Chinese verses: "In most cases, a literal translation of the Chinese is impossible. Certain characters frequently express a tableau (mood) which can only be expressed by a periphrase. […] In order to be interpreted with validity, certain characters absolutely require a whole phrase. Any Chinese vers (verse) must be first [attentively] read; and in order to be able to grasp its prevailing trait (mood) and to retain [in the translation] its force (strength) or couleur (hue) [the reader] must become imbued by the image or thought in contains. It is a dangerous task: pityful as well, when [the translator is] fully aware of the intrinsic beauties [of a verse] that no European language is able to express."

21 Following the May Fourth Movement (1911), the literary 'revolution' being strictly connected with the political and social 'revolution', questions once again not only the traditional ideology but also the 'instrument' of literary expression.

22 This genre will be analysed in the following chapter.

23 [See: Part. II, p.112]

WANG WEI 王維

鹿柴

空山不見人

但聞人語聲

返景入紳林

復照青苔上

Clos au cerfs

Montagne vide/ ne percevoir personne

Seulement entendre / voix humaine résonner

Ombre-retournée / pénétrer forêt profonde

Encore luire / sur la mousse verte

In: CHENG, François, l'écriture poétique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poémes des T'ang, Paris. Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.112.

Deer Park

Hills empty, no one to be seen

We only hear voices echoed -

With light coming back into the deep wood

The top of the green moss is lit again.

In: WANG Wei, ROBINSON, G. W. trans. and intro., Wang Wei: Poems, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1973, p.28.

24 [See: Part. II, p.171].

WANG WEI 王維

終南山

太乙近天都

連山到海隅

白雲迴望合

青霭入看無

分野中峰變

陰陽衆壑殊

欲投人宿處

隔水問樵夫

Le mont Chung-nan

Suprême faîte / proche de la Citadelle-céleste

Reliant monts/jusqu'au bord de lamer

Nuages blancs / se retourner comtempler s'unir

Rayon vert / pénétrer chercher s'anéantir

Divisant étoiles / pic central se transformer

Sombre-clair / vallons multiples varier

Désirer descendre / logis humain passer la nuit

Par-delà eau / s'addresser à bûcheron

In: CHENG, François, l'écriture poétique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poèmes des T'ang, Paris. Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.170.

The Chungnan Mountains

T'ai-i nearly touching the Citadel of Heaven

Chain of hills down the edge of the sea

White clouds closing over the distance

Blue haze - nothing comes into view

The central peak transforms the whole tract

Dark and light valleys, each way distinct -

If I want a lodging for the night here

Across the river there's a woodman I may ask.

In: WANG Wei, ROBINSON, G. W. trans. and intro., Wang Wei: Poems, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1973, p.69.

25 [See: Part II, p.110].

MENG HAO-JAN 孟浩然

春曉

春眠不覺曉

處處聞啼鳥

夜來風雨聲

花落知多少

Matin de printemps

Sommeil printanier / ignorer aube

Tout autour entendre / chanter oiseaux

Nuit passée bruissement / de vent de pluie

Pétales tombées / qui sait combien...

In: CHENG, François, l'écriture poétique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poèmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.110.

The Dawn of Spring

Spring dreams that went on

well past dawn; and I felt

that all around me was the sound

of birds singing; but really

night was full of the noise

of rain and wind, and now I wonder

how many blossoms have fallen.

In: ALLEY, Rewi, trans., Selected Poems of the Tang & Song Dynasties, Hong Kong, Hai Feng Publishing Company, 1981, p.7.

26 [See: Part II, p.207].

LIU CH'ANG-CH'ING 劉長卿

尋南溪敘道士

一路經行處

莓苔見履痕

白雲依靜渚

春草閉閑門

過雨看松色

隨山到水源

溪花與禪意

相對亦忘言

En cherchant le moine taoїste Ch'ang du ruisseau du Sud

Le long chemin / traverser maints endroits

Mousses tendres / percevoir traces de sabots

Nuages blancs / entourer оlot calme

Herbes folles / enfermer porte oisive

Pluie passйe / contempler couleur de pin

Colline longйe / atteindre source de riviиre

Fleurs de l'eau / rйvйler esprit de Ch 'an

Face а face / dejа hors de la parole

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.206.

A Visit to Ch'ang, the Taoist recluse of Nan Ch'i

All my way along the road (to your cottage)

On the mosses I see footprints of your wooden shoes.

White clouds lie low upon the quiet island,

Sweet grasses grow right up to your idle door.

A passing shower brings out the colour of the pines.

Following the hills I come to the source of the stream.

In: JENYNS, Soame, trans., Selections from the Three Hundred Poems of the T'ang Dynasty, London, John Murray, 1940, p. 105.

27 [See: Part II, p. 193].

TU FU 杜甫

又呈吳郎

堂前撲棗任西鄰

無食無兒一婦人

不爲困窮寜有此

只緣恐懼轉須親

即防遠客雖多事

便插疏離卻甚真

已訴徵求貧到骨

正思戎馬淚盈巾

Second envoi а mon neveu Wu-lang

Devant chaumiиre secouer jujubier / voisine de l'ouest

Sans nourriture sans enfant/une femme esseulйe

Si n'кtre pas dans la misиre / pourquoi recourir а ceci

A cause de honte-crainte/au contraire кtre bienveillant

Se mйfier de l'hфte йtranger / bien que superflu

Planter haies clairsemйes / nйanmoins trop rйel

Se plaindre corvйes-impфts / dйpouillйe jusqu'aux os

Penser flammes de guerre / larmes mouiller habits

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.193.

Asking of Wu Lang Again

Couldn't let her filch dates from your garden?

She's a neighbor. Childless and without food,

Alone - only desperation could bring her to this.

We must be gentle, if only to ease her shame.

People from far away frighten her. She knows us

Now - a fence would be too harsh. Tax collectors

Hound her, she told me, keeping her bone poor...

How quickly thoughts of war become falling tears.

In: HINTON, David, trans., The selected poems of Tu Fu,

New York, New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1989, p.97.

28 [See: Part II, p.213].

WANG WEI 王維

月下獨酌

花間一壺酒

獨酌無相親

舉杯邀明月

對影成三人

月既不解飲

影徒隨我身

暫伴月將影

行樂須及春

我歌月徘徊

我舞影零亂

醒時同交歡

醉後各分散

永结無情逰

相期邈雲漢

Buvant seul sous la lune

Pichet de vin, au milieu de fleurs.

Seul а boire, sans un compagnon,

Levant ma coupe, je salue la lune:

Avec mon ombre, nous sommes trois.

La lune pourtant ne sait point boire.

C'est en vain que l'ombre me suit.

Honorons cependant ombre et lune:

La joie ne dure qu'un printemps!

Je chante et la lune musarde,

Je danse et mon ombre s'йbat.

Йveillйs, nous jouissons l'un de l'autre.

Ivres, chacun va son chemin...

Retrouvailles sur la Voie lactйe:

А jamais, randonnйe sans attaches!

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poйmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.213.

Drinking alone with the Moon

A pot of wine among the flowers.

I drink alone, no friend with me.

I raise my cup to invite the moon.

He and my shadow and I make three.

The moon does not know how to drink;

My shadow mimes my capering;

But I'll make merry with them both -

And soon enough it will be Spring.

I sing - the moon move to and fro.

I dance - my shadow leaps and sways.

Still sober, we exchange our joys.

Drunk - and we'll go our separate ways.

Let's pledge - beyond human ties - to be friends,

And meet where the Silver River ends.

In: SETH, Vikram, Three Chinese Poets: Translations of poems by Wang Wei, Li Bai and Du Fu, London - Boston, Faber and Faber, 1992, p.27.

29 麻鞋見天子， Maxie jian Tianzi (Tu Fu: Shu huai·).

30 眼枯即見骨，天地終無情 yanku ji jian gu, tiandi zhong wuqing (Tu Fu: Si-an li·).

31 嵗晚或相逢，青天騎白龍 Suiwan huo xiangfeng, qingtian qi bailong (Li Po: Song Yang-shan-jen kui Songshan·).

32 青天碧於水，畫船聼雨鳴 Qingtian bi yu tian, huanchuan ting yu ming (Wei Chuang: Pu-sa man·).

33 誰家今夜扁舟子，何處相思明月樓 Shuijia jinye bianzhouzi, hechu xiangsi mingyuelou. It is relevant to give here the translations of these two verses. The marquis d'Hervey Saint-Denis: "Nul ne sait mкme qui je suis, sur cette barque voyageuse /Nul ne sait si cette mкme lune йclaire, au loin, un pavillon oщ on songe а moi. ";in the Anthologie de la poйsie chinoise classique: "A qui donc appartient la petite barque qui vogue en cette nuit? / Oщ donc retrouver la maison dans le clair de lune oщ l'on songe а l'absent?"; by Charles Budel: "In yonder boat some traveller sails tonight / Beneath the moon which links his thoughts with home."; and by W. J. B. Fletcher: "To-night who floats upon the tiny skiff? / from what high tower yeans out upon the night / the dear beloved in the pale moonlight…".

34 [See: Part II, p.205].

CH'ANG CHIEN 常建

破山寺後禪院

清晨入古寺

初日照高林

曲徑通幽處

禪房花木紳

山光悦鳥性

潭影空人心

萬籁此俱寂

惟餘鐘磬音

Au monastиre de Po-shan

Matin clair / pйnйtrer temple antique

Soleil naissant / йclairer hauts arbres

Sentier sinueux / communiquer lieu secret

Chambre de Ch'an / fleurs-plantes profondes

Lumiиre de montagne /jouir humeur des oiseaux

Ombre de l'йtang / vider cœur de l'homme

Dis mille bruits/а la fois silencieux

Seul rester/son de pierre musicale

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.205.

At the Hall of Silence in the Monastery of the Broken Hill Zen Temple

I set out to enter the old monastery in the freshness of early morning.

The early sun shines down upon high woods,

A winding path leads to this place of quiet.

Here deep among the flowers and trees is the cell of contemplation;

In the sunlight behind the monastery the birds are enjoying themselves,

The shadows on the pool purge the mind,

All the noise of the world is stilled;

All I hear are the sounds of the Ch'ing and the monastery bell.

In: JENYNS, Soame, trans., A Further Selection from the Three Hundred Poems of the T'ang Dynasty, London, John Murray, 1944, pp.58-59.

35 It is relevant to give here the translations of these two verses. The marquis d' Hervey Saint-Denis : "Dиs que la montagne s'illumine, les oiseaux, tout а la nature, se rйveillaient joyeux: / l'oeil contemple des eaux limpides et profondes, comme les pensйes de l 'homme dont le cњur s 'est йpurй."; H. A. Giles: "Around these hills sweet birds their pleasure take / Man's heart as free from shadow as this lake."; W. Brynner: "'Here birds are alive with mountain-light / And the mind of man touches peace in a pool."; W. J. B. Fletcher: "Hark! The birds rejoicing in the mountain light / Like one'sdim reflection on a pool at night / Lo! The heart is melted wav'ring out of sight."; R. Payne: "The mountain colours have made the birds sing / the shadows in the pool empty the hearts of men."

36 [See: Part II, p.198].

TU FU 杜甫

旅夜書懷

細草微風岸

危檣獨夜舟

星垂平野闊

月湧大江流

名豈文章著

官應老病休

飄飄何所似

天地一沙鷗

Pensйe d'une nuit en voyage

Herbes menues / brise lйgиre berge

Mat vacillant / nuit solitaire barque

Astres tombant / vaste plaine s' йlargir

Lune surgissant / grand fleuve couler

Renom oщ donc / œuvres йcrites s'imposer

Mandarin devoir/vieux malade se retirer

Flottant flottant /а quoi ressembler

Ciel-terre / une mouette de sable

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.198.

Night Thoughts Afloat

By bent grasses

in a gentle wind

Under straight mast

I'm alone tonight,

And the stars hang

above the broad plain

But the moon's afloat

in this Great River:

Oh, where's my name

among the poets?

Official rank?

'Retired for ill-health.'

Drifting, drifting,

what am I more than

A single gull

between sky and earth?

In: LI Po - TU Fu, COOPER, Arthur, trans, intro. and anot., Li Po and Tu Fu, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1988, p.237.

37 It is relevant to give here the translations of these two verses. J. Liu: "The stars drooping, the wild plane is vast / the moon rushing, the great river flows."; W. J. B. Fletcher: "The wide-flung stars overhang all vasty space / the moonbeams with the Yangtze's current race."; K. Rexroth: "Stars blossom over the vast desert waters / Moonlight flows on the surging rivers."

38 See: III, pp. 60-64 - For the analysis of this poem.

39 [See: Part. II, p.203].

LI SHAN-YIN 李商隱

馬嵬

海外徒聞更九州

他生未卜此生休

空閑虎旅傳宵柝

無復雞人報曉籌

此日六軍同駐馬

當时七夕笑牽牛

如何四紀爲天子

不及盧家有莫愁

Ma-wei

Per delб les mers en vain apprendre / Neuf contrйes changer

L'autre vie non prйdite / cette vie arrкtйe

En vain entendre gardes-tigres/ battre cloches de bois

Ne plus revenir homme-coq / annoncer arrivйe de l'aube

Aujourd'hui Six armйes / ensemble arrкter chevaux

L'autre nuit Double Sept/rire Bouvier-Tisserande

Pourquoi donc quatre dкcades / кtre Fils du Ciel

Ne valoir point fils de Lu / avec Sans-Souci

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.203.

Ma-wei

An empty rumour, that second world beyond the seas

Other lives we cannot divine, this life is finished.

In vain she hears the Tiger Guards sound the night rattle,

Never again shall the Cock Man come to report the sunrise.

This is the day when six armies conspire to halt their horses:

The Seventh Night of another year mocked the Herdboy Star.

What matter that for decades he was the Son of Heaven?

He is less than Lu who married Never Grieve.

In: GRAHAM, A. C., trans. and intro., Poems of the Late T'ang, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1965, p. pp.163-164.

40 This is the term used by R. Jakobson in his work: Shifters, verbal categories and the russian verb.

41 [See: Part II, p. 179].

LI PO李白

送友人

青山横北郭

白水遶東城

此地一爲别

孤蓬萬里征

浮雲游子意

落日故人情

揮手自茲去

蕭蕭班馬鳴

Adieu а un ami qui part

Mont vert/border rempart du Nord

Eau blanche / entourer muraille de I'Est

De ce lieu/un fois se sйparer

Herbe solitaire /sux dix mille li errer

Nuages flottants /humeur du vagabond

Soleil couchant/sentiment de l'ami ancient

Agiter mains/en cet instant partir

Hsiao-hsiao/chevaux seuls hennir

In: CHENG, Franзois, I'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.179.

Taking Leave of a Friend

Blue mountains lie beyond the north wall;

Round the city's eastern side flows the white water.

Here we part, friend, once forever.

You go ten thousand miles, drifting away

Like an unrooted water-grass.

Oh, the floating clouds and the thoughts of a wanderer!

Oh, the sunset and the longing of an old friend!

We ride away from each other, waving our hands,

While our horses neigh softly, softly...

In: OBATA, Shigeyoshi, The Works of Li Po the Chinese Poet done into English verse by hi Obata with an introduction and biographical and critical matter translated from the Chinese, New York City, E. P. Dutton & Co., 1922, p.94.

42 明月籠中鳥，乾坤水上萍 Riyue longzhong niao, qiankun shuishang ping (Tu Fu: Heng-chou song Li taifu•).

43 [See: Part. II, p.163].

LI SHAN-YIN 李商隱

嫦娥

雲母屏風燭影紳

長河漸落曉星沈

嫦娥應悔偷靈藥

碧海青天夜夜心

Ch'ang O

Mica paravent /ombre de chandelle s'obscurcir

Long Fleuve peu а peu s'incliner/йtoile du matin sombrer

Ch'ang 0 devoir regretter / dйrober drogue d'immortalitй

Mer йmeraude ciel azur / nuit-nuit cœur

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.203.

The Lady in the Moon (I) Ch'ang O

The lamp glows deep in the mica screen.

The long river descends, the morning star drowns.

Is Ch'ang O sorry that she stole the magic herb,

Between the blue sky and the emerald sea, thinking night after night?

In: GRAHAM, A. C., trans. and intro., Poems of the Late T'ang, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1965, p.155.

44 [See: Part. II, p.210].

WEN T'ING-YЬN 溫庭筠

商山早行

晨起動征鐸

客行悲故鄉

雞聲茅店月

人跡板橋霜

槲葉落山路

枳花明驛

因思杜陵夢

凫鳬雁滿迴塘

Dйpart а l'aube sur le mont Shang

Se lever а l'aube / agiter grelots de mulets

Hommes en voyage / regretter pays natal

Chant de coq / auberge de chaumes lune

Traces de pas /pont de bois givre

Feuilles de hu / tomber route de montagne

Fleurs de chih /йclairer mur de relais

Encore penser / rкve de Tu-ling

Oies sauvages / parsemer йtang en mйandres

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.170.

Setting out Early from Mount Shang

At dawn I rise, stirring my carriage bells.

This traveler goes on, grieving for his home.

Cry of the cock, moon on the thatched inn;

Tracks of someone, frost on the plank bridge.

Oak leaves fall on the mountain road;

Orange blossoms brighten the post-station wall.

And I long for my Dulin dream;

Ducks and geese fill the curving pool.

In: ROUZER, Paul F., Writing Another's Dream: The Poetry of Wen Tingyun, Standford/California, Standford University Press, 1993, p. 18.

45 星河秋一雁，砧杵夜秋家 Xinghe qiu yiyan, zhanchu ye qiujia

46 五湖三畝宅，萬里一歸人 Wuhu san mu zhai, wanli yi gui (Wang Wei: Song Chiu Wei lui-ti·).

47 老年復道路，遲日復山川 Laonian fu daolu, chiri fu shanchuan (Tu Fu: Hsing-ts'u ku-ch'eng·).

48 黃葉乃風雨，青樓自管弦 Huangye nai fengyu, qinglou zi guanxian (Li Shang-yin: Feng yь·).

49 幽薊餘蛇豕，乾坤尚虎狼 Youji yu sheshi, qiankun shang hulang (Tu Fu: You kan·).

50 生理何顏面，憂端且嵗時 Shengli he yanmian, youduan qie suishi (Tu Fu: Te ti hsiao-hsi·).

51 [See: Part. II, p.197].

TU FU 杜甫

江漢

江漢思歸客

乾坤一腐儒

片雲天共遠

永夜月同孤

落日心猶壮

秋風病欲蘇

古來存老馬

不必取長途

Yang-tse et Han

Yang-tse et Han/ voyageur rкvant de retour

Ciel-terre / un lettrй dйmuni

Nuage mince/ciel avec lointain

Nuit longue / lune ensemble solitaire

Soleil sombrant / cњur encore ardent

Vent automnal / maladie presque guйrie

Depuis l'antiquitй / conserver vieux cheval

Pas nйcessairement / mйriter longue route

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 197.

Chiang-han

Traveling Chiang-han, love savant spent

Between Heaven and Earth, I dream return.

A flake of cloud sky's distance, night

Remains timeless in the moon's solitude.

My heart grows still at dusk.

In autumn wind, I am nearly healed. Long ago,

Old horses were given refuge, not sent out.

The long road is not all they're good for.

In: HINTON, David, The selected poems of Tu Fu, New York, New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1989, p.106.

52 [See: Part. II, p.175].

WANG WEI 王維

過香積寺

不知香積寺

數里入雲峰

古木無人徑

紳山何處鐘

泉聲咽危石

日色冷青松

薄暮空潭曲

安禪制毒龍

En passant par le temple au Parfum-Cachй

Ne point connaоtre /temple au Parfum-Cachй

Plusieurs li/pйnйtrer pic nuageux

Bois antique / nulle trace sentier

Montagne profonde / quel lieu cloche

Bruit de source/sangloter rochers dresses

Couleur du soleil / fraоchir pins verts

Vers le soir / lac vide au dйtour

Mйditant Ch 'an / dompter dragon venimeux

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.175.

Visting Hsiangchi Temple

I didn't know Hsiangchi Temple

And went miles into cloudy peaks

Between ancient trees, no tracks of man-

Where was that bell deep in the hills?

Sound of a stream choking on sharp rocks

Sun cool coloured among green pines -

At dusk beside a deserted pool, a monk

Meditating to subdue the poisonous dragon.

In: WANG Wei, ROBINSON, G. W. trans. and intro., Wang Wei: Poems, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1973, p.94.

53 [See: Part. II, p.195].

TU FU 杜甫

詠懷古跡

群山萬壑赴荆門

生長明妃尚有村

一去紫臺連朔漠

獨留青塚向黃昏

畫圖省識春風面

環珮空歸月下魂

千年琵琶作胡語

分明怨恨曲中論

Sites anciens

Multiples montagnes dix-mille vallйes / parvenir а Ching-men,

Naоtre grandir Dame lumineuse /encore y avoir village

Une fois quitter Terrasse Pourpre / а mкme dйsert nordique

Seul rester Tombeau Vert/face au crйpuscule jaune

Tableau peint mal reconnaоtre / visage de brise printaniиre

Amulettes de jade en vain retourner / вme de nuit lunaire

Mille annйes p 'i-p'a /chargй d 'accents barbares

Clairs distincts griefs-regrets/en son chant rйsonner

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 195.

Thoughts on an Ancient Site

Flock-mountains myriad-valleys arrive Ching-men

Bore-bred Ming-fei still there-is village

Once departed purple-terrace continuous northern-desert

Only leave Green-grave face twilight

Portraits have recorded spring-wind face

Girdle-jade vainly returns moon-light soul

Thousand years guitar makes Hunnish talk

Just-like resentment tune-in discussed

In: HA WKES, David, A Little Primer of Tu Fu, Hong Kong, The Chinese University of Hong Kong - The Oxford University Press, 1994, pp.176-177.

54 This can be verified in the modern oral language, still presently spoken.

55 [See: Part. II, pp.182-183]

TU FU 杜甫

春望

國破山河在

城春草木紳

感時花濺淚

恨别鳥驚心

烽火連三月

家書抵萬金

白頭搔更短

渾欲不勝簪

Printemps catif

Pays briser / mont-fleuve demeurer

Ville printemps / herbes-plantes foisonner

Regretter йpoque /fleurs verser larmes

Maudire sйparation /oiseaux sursauter cњur

Flammes de guerre / continuer trois mois

Lettres de famille / valoir mille onces d'or

Cheveux blanchis / gratter plus rares

A tel point / ne plus supporter йpingle

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 182.

Looking at Springtime

In fallen States hills and streams are found,

Cities have Spring, grass and leaves abound;

Though at such times flowers might drop tears

Parting from mates, birds have hidden fears:

The beacon fires have now linked three moons,

Making home news worth ten thousand coins;

An old grey head scratched at each mishap

Has dwindling hair, does not fit its cap!

In: LI Po - TU Fu, COOPER, Arthur, trans, intro. and anot., Li Po and Tu Fu, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1988, p. 171.

56 [See: Part. II, p.114]

WANG WEI 王維

鳥鳴澗

人閒桂花落

夜靜春山空

月出驚山鳥

時鳴春澗中

Torrent au chant d'oiseau

Homme au repos / fleurs de cannelier tomber

Nuit calme /montagne printaniиre кtre vide

Lune surgissant / effrayer oiseau du mont

Parfois crier/dans le torrent de printemps

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.114.

Birds calling in the valley

Men at rest, cassia flowers falling

Night still, spring hills empty

The moon rises, rouses birds in the hills

And sometimes they cry in the spring valley

In: WANG Wei, ROBINSON, G. W. trans. and intro., Wang Wei: Poems, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1973, p.55.

57 Well before the definition of the 'four tones' by Shen Yue· (AD°441-†513), the poets instinctively made use of tonal distinctions.

58 According to Wang Li• in his Han-yь shih-lь hsьeh.•

59 The following diagrams correspond solely to the first half of a pentasyllabic lь-shih - the second half being identical to the first.

60 See: JAKOBSON, R., Le dessin prosodique dans le vers rйgulier chinois. [sic]

61 See: DOWNER, G. B. - GRAHAM, A. C., Tone patterns in chinese poetry. [sic] - Where this diagram was first proposed.

62 See: III., pp. 50-54 - Regarding the metaphorical images.

[Also see: Part II, p. 132].

LI PO 李白

玉階怨

玉階生白露

夜久侵羅襪

卻下水晶簾

玲瓏望秋月

Complainte du perron de jade

Perron de jade / naоtre rosйe blanche

Tard dans la nuit / pйnйtrer bas de soie

Cependant baisser / store de erystal

Par transparence / regarder lune d'automne

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 132.

Marble Stairs Grievance

On Marble Stairs still grows the white dew

That has all night soaked her silk slippers,

But she lets down her crystal blind now

And sees through glaze the moon of autumn

In: Li Po-TU Fu, COOPER, Arthur, trans., intro., anot., Li Po and Tu Fu, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1988, p.112.

63 Corresponds to Li Yь's first strophe of his Lang-t'aosha.·

See: Anthologie de la poйsie chinoise classique: "Derriиre rideaux, la pluie sans fin clapote. /La vertu du printemps s'йpuise./Sous la housse de soie, l'intolйrable froid de la cinquiиme veille! / Quand je rкve j'oublie que se suis en exil. /Doux rйconfort tant attendu!"

64 Han Yu: T'ing Ying-shih t'an-ch'in.•

65 Li Ch'ing-chao: Sheng-sheng man.•

66 [See: Part. II, p.186].

TU FU 杜甫

聞官軍收河南河北

劍外忽傳收薊北

初聞涕淚滿衣裳

卻看妻子愁何在

漫卷詩書喜欲狂

白日放歌須緃酒

青春作伴好還鄉

即從巴峽穿巫峡

便下襄陽向洛陽

En apprenant que l'armйe impйriale a repris le Ho-nan et le Ho-pei [74]

Par delа l'Йpйe soudain rapporter/ rйcupйrer Chi-pei[83]

А peine entendre flots de larmes /inonder habits

Cependant regarder femme-enfants / tristesse oщ setrouver

Fйbrilement enrouler poиmes-йcrits /joie а rendre fou

Jour clair chanter а pleine voix / de plus boire sans retenue

Printemps vert se tenir compagnier /pour retourner au pays

Alors depuis gorges de Pa / enfiler gorges de Wu

Et puis descendre Hsiang-yang / vers Luo-yang [66]

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 186.

On learning of the Recovery of Honan and Hopei by the Imperial Army

Chien-beyond suddenly is-reported recovering Chi-pei

First hear tears cover clothing

Turn-back look-at wife-children sorrow where is

Carelessly roll poems-writings glad about-to-become crazy

White-sun let-go-singing must give-way-twine

Green-spring act-as companion good-to returnhome

Immediately from Pa-gorge traverse Lu-gorge.

Then down-to Hsiang-yang on-to Lo-yang

In: HAWKES, David, A Little Primer of Tu Fu, Hong Kong, The Chinese University of Hong Kong-The Oxford University Press, 1994, pp. 176-177.

67 See: II, p. 38 [and Part. II, p.205]. The diagonal dash (/) corresponds to the caesura. See: Note 34.

68 [See: Part. II, p. 172].

WANG WEI 王維

山居秋暝

空山新雨後

天氣晚來秋

明月松間照

清泉石上流

竹喧歸浣女

蓮動下漁舟

隨意春芳歇

王孫自可留

Soir d'automne en montagne

Montagne dйserte /aprиs pluie nouvelle

Air du ciel / vers le soir automne

Lune claire / parmi les pins luire

Source limpide / sur les rochers couler

Bambous bruire / rentrer lavandiиres

Lotus agiter / descendre barque de pкcheur

Ici ou lб / fragance printaniиre au repos

Noble seigneur/en soi pouvoir rester

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 172.

In the hills at nightfall in autumn

In the empty hills just after the rain

The evening air is autumn now

Bright moon shining between pines

Clear stream flowing over stones

Bamboos clatter - the washerwoman goes home

Lotuses shift - the fisherman's boat floats down

Of course spring scents must fail

But you, my friend, you must stay.

In: WANG Wei, ROBINSON, G. W. trans. and intro., Wang Wei: Poems, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1973, p.75.

69 [See: Part. II, p.173].

WANG WEI 王維

使至塞上

單車欲問邊

屬国過居延

征蓬出漢塞

歸鴈入胡天

大漠孤煙直

長河落日圓

簫關逢候騎

都護在燕然

En mission а la frontiиre

Carrosse seul / se rendre а la frontiиre

Pays dйpendant / par-delа Chь-yan

Herbe-errante /sortir dйfenses des Han

Oies de retour / pйnйtrer ciel barbare

Immense dйsert / solitaire fumйe droite

Long fleuve / sombrant soleil rond

Passe de Hsiao / rencontrant patrouille

Quartier gйnйral / au mont des Hirondelles

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise/suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 173.

On a mission to the frontier

Off in a single carriage on my mission to the frontier

For dependencies beyond Chьyen now

I am carried like thistledown out from the Han defenses

And wild geese are flying back to the savage waste

From the Gobi one trail of smoke straight up

In the long river the falling sun is round

At Hsiao Pass I meet our patrols

Headquarters are on Mount Yenjan.

In: WANG Wei, ROBINSON, G. W. trans. and intro., Wang Wei: Poems, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1973, p.75.

70 江流天地外，山色有無中 Jiangliu tiandi wai, shanse youwu zhong (Wang Wei: Han-chiang lin fan·).

71 [See: Part II, p.107].

WANG CHIH-HUAN 王之渙

登鸛雀樓

白日依山盡

黃河入海流

欲窮千里目

更上一層樓

Du haut du pavillon des Cigognes

Soleil blanc / le long des monts disparaоtre

Fleuve Jaune /jusqu'а lamer couler

Dйsirer йpuiser / mile li vue

Encore monter / un йtage

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 107.

An Ascent to Stork Hall

The setting sun behind the mountain glows,

The muddy Yellow River reawards flows.

If more distant views are what you desire,

You simply climb up a storey higher.

In: XU Zhongjie, trans., ed., 200 Chinese Tang Poems in English Verse, Beijing, Beijing Languages College Publishers, 1990, p.32.

72 WANG Li, Hanyu shih-kao•-- For a lenghty discussion of this problem.

73 It is impossible to progress at any length on the problem of syntactical transgressions allowed by 'parallelism' without making a hiatus on the discussion of the lь-shih. For those who read Chinese we strongly recommend the relevant sections of Wang Li's Han-yь shih-lь hsьeh. The following is a very succint explanation of the three typologies in which can be classified the T'ang poets' researches struggling to invent other ordres verbaux (verbal sequences).

1. Ordre Perceptif (Perceptive Sequence):

The poet organises words not according to the usual syntax but in a sequence which attempts to be the explicit reflection of his succession of perceptive images (of a landscape, a sensation, etc.). The following verses are an example of an excursion by the poet Tu Shen-yen· to the southern shore of the mouth of the Yang-tze River, at dawn. The sequence of the words suggests the images gradually seen by the poet as he moves along: images of the rising sun, and of vegetation which turning colours announces the passing a seasonal transition - on both sides of the river:

雲霞出海曙 Yunxia chu haishu

梅柳渡春江 Meiliu du chunjiang

"Nuages lumiиre apparaоtre mer aurore

Pruniers saules franchir fleuve printemps "

("Clouds light appears sea dawn

Plum trees willow trees cross river spring")

Without any previous warning, sometimes the poet selects a striking image as his starting point in the phrase: a scenario, a colour, a flavour which 'provokes' sensations and rememberances - as if all erupts from this striking image. The following examples are from different poems by Tu Fu:

1.1. 寺憶曾游處 Si yi ceng you chu

橋憐再度時 Qiao lian zai du shi

"Temple se rappeler jadis visiter lieu

Pont aimer а nouveau traverser moment"

("Temple remember long ago visit place

Bridge love again go across moment")

1.2. 青惜峰巒過 Qing xi fengluan guo

黃知橘柚來 Huang zhi juyou lai

"Vert regretter monts et collines dйpasser

Jaune pressentir forкt d'orangers approcher"

("Green regret mountains and hills go beyond Yellow foresense forest of orange trees come close")

1.3. 滑憶彫胡飯 hua yi diaohu fan

香聞錦帶羹 xiang wen jindai geng

"Veloutй savourer riz aux champignons "torsadйs"

Parfum humer soupe aux herbes "brodйes""

("Velvety taste "spiralling" mushrooms' rice

Perfume inhale "embroidered" herb soup")

In other cases what the poet attempts to establish is a still condition rather than a succession of images:

白花簷外朵 Baihua yanwai duo

青柳檻前梢 Qingliu kanqian shao

" Saules tendres branches

Fleurs blanchescalices"

("Gentle willows branches

White flowers calixes")

In these two verses the elements outside the box [before and after] constitute discontinued signifiers. Between them, the poet integrates the images of "doorstep" and the "canopy" in order to visually define the intrusion of human presence in Nature (or inversely, the invasion of the human 'territory' by Nature). Through a deliberate placing of words the poet reconstitutes a situation as it is actually seen by him.

2. Ordre inversй (Inverted Sequence):

Here, the sequence is built by inverting, in one phrase, the subject and the object. More than the immediate achievement of a figure of style, one can sense in this procedure • the desire to disturb the order of the world and to create a further relationship between things.

香稻啄餘鸚鵡粒 Xiangdao zhuoyu yingwu li

碧桐棲老鳳凰枝 Nitong qilao fenghuang zhi

"Riz parfumй picoter finir perroquet graines

Platane vert percher vieilli phйnix branches "

("Rice perfumed peck finish parrot seeds

Green banana tree perch aged phoenix branches")

Reading this very famous distich by Tu Fu, the reader rapidly understands that it is not the "rice" that "pecks" the "parrot" nor is the "banana tree" that is "perched" on the "phoenix". It should be underlined that, most frequently, poets 'dare' to attempt this type of distortion in 'parallel' verses, as the mutual justification between the verses removes what might seem to be 'fortuitous' or 'arbitrary'.

客病留因藥 Kebing liu yin hua

春深買爲花 Chunshen mai wei hua

"Voyageur malade conserver en raison des mйdicaments,

Printemps tardif acheter а cause des fleurs"

("I11 traveller preserve due to medicaments,

"Late spring buy because of flowers")

The verses mean: "Being frequently ill in my exile, I conserve the medicaments; I buy flowers in an attempt to arrest the passing of spring". The inversion of the subject and the object gives to the verses a disillusioned nuance laced with humour.

永憶江湖歸白髪 Yongyi jianghu gui baifa

欲迴天地入扁舟 Yuhui tiandi ru bianzhou

"Longtemps regretter fleuve-lac retourner cheveux blancs

Toujours errer ciel-terre pйnйtrer barque lйgиre"

("For a long time regret river-lake turn white hair Always wander Heaven-Earth penetrate light boat")

Instead of the "white hair" (exiled) images which are 'scattered' between a "river" and a "lake", and the "light boat" lost between "Heaven" and "Earth", the poet Li Shang-yin, through an inversion procedure, strongly defines the action of Nature over mankind.

3. Ordre dйsagrйgй (Desaggregated Sequence)

In this type of sequence the poet attempts to create a 'total' image by mixing 'cause' and 'effect' in an apparently arbitrary way, and where all elements are confused or anihilated as if in a priviliged manner. Each dynamic phrase where a sign is part of a network in incessant transformation, acquires a new meaning after each change.

地侵山影掃 Di qin shanying sao

葉帶露痕畫 Ye dai luhen hua

"Terrain pйnйtrer montagne ombre balayer

Feuilles entacher rosйe traces inscrire "

("Land penetrate mountain shadow sweep

Leaves spots dew traces inscribe")

In order to give meaning to these verses by Chia Tao·, we provoke a chained transformation to the first verse:

Land penetrate mountain shadow sweep →

Penetrate mountain shadow sweep land →

Mountain shadow sweep land penetrate →

Shadow sweep land penetrate mountain →

Sweep land penetrate mountain shadow →

The moral tone of the last phrase throws light on what the poet attempts to convey: "sweeping" the "land" in front of his abode he "penetrates" onto the "shadow" projected by the "mountain". Applying the same procedure to the second verse, we will arrive at:

Inscribe leaves spots dew traces

The poet "inscribes" verses of "leaves" (of a banana tree, probably) all "spoted" with "dew". In the same spirit, in an attempt to describe a landscape ["green"] where a strong "wind" destroys ["break"] tender "bamboo" shoots drooping ("hanging") their leaves and where drenched "prunus" tree flowers "blossom", their pink ["red"] petals (and we draw attention to the erotic connotation of the situation), Tu Fu changes the 'natural' sequence of the words in order to destroy all connotations with 'past' and 'future', thus establishing an immediate and total image:

綠垂風折筍 Lь chui feng zhe sun

紅綻雨肥梅 Hong zhan yu fei mei

"Vert suspendre vent se casser bambous

Rouge йclater pluie s 'йpanouir prunus "

("Green hanging wind break bamboos

Red burst rain blossom prunus")

74 [See: Part. II, p.186].

See: Note 66.

75 [See: Part. II, p.195].

See: Notes 53 and 95.

76 [See: Part. II, p.168].

TS'UI HAO 崔顥

黃鶴樓

昔人已乘黃鶴去

此地空餘黃鶴樓

黃鶴一去不復返

白雲千載空悠悠

晴川歷歷漢陽樹

芳草萋萋鸚鵡洲

日暮鄉關何處是

煙波江上使人愁

Le pavillon de la Grue jaune

Les Ancients dйjа chevauchant / Grue Jaune partir

Ce lieu en vain rester / pavillon de la Grue Jaune

Grue Jaune une fois partie / ne plus revenir

Nuages blancs mille annйes / planer lointain-lointain

Fleuve ensoleillй distinct-distinct / arbres de Han-yang

Herbe parfumйe, foisonnante-foisonnante / Ile des Perroquets

Soleil couchant pays natal/oщ donc est-ce

Vagues brumeuses sur le fleuve / accabler de tristessehomme<

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 168.

The Yellow Crane Hall

The sage, astride the Yellow Crane, flew away.

A singular void, the whole place now betray.

The Yellow Crane has, for certain, gone for good.

White clouds have long o'espread the Hall, like a hood.

This fine weather, trees in Hanyang can be seen.

Grass on Parrot Isle is growing rank and green.

Where is my hometown at this approach of eve!

At the mist o'er the stream, I cannot but grieve.

In: Xu Zhongjie, trans., ed., 200 Chinese Tang Poems in English Verse, Beijing, Beijing Languages College Publishers, 1990, p.51.

77 [See: Part. II, pp.226-227].

TU FU 杜甫

石壕吏

暮投石壕村

有吏夜捉人

老翁踰 走

老婦出門看

吏呼一何怒

婦啼一何苦

聼婦前致詞

三男鄴城戍

一男附書至

二男新戰死

存者且偷生

死者長已矣

室中更無人

惟有乳下孫

有孫母未去

出入無完裙

老嫗力雖衰

請從吏夜歸

急應河陽役

猶得備晨炊

夜久語聲絕

如聞泣幽咽

天明登前途

獨與老翁别

Le recruteur de Shih-hao

Je passe la nuit au village de Shih-hao.

Un recruteur vient s'emparer des gens.

Escaladant le mur, le vieillard s'enfuit,

Sa vieille femme va ouvrir la porte:

Cris d'officier, colйreux,

Pleurs de femme, amers.

Elle parle enfin. Je prкte l'oreille:

"Mes trois fils sont partis pour Yeh-ch'eng.

L'un d'eux а pu envoyer un message:

Les deus autres sont morts au combat.

Le survivant tentera de survivre,

Les morts sont morts, hйlas, pour toujours!

Dans la maison, il n'y а plus personne,

A part le petit qu'on allaite encore.

C'est pour lui que sa mиre est restйe:

Pas une jupe entiиre pour sortir!

Moi, je suis vieille, j'ai l'air faible,

Mais je demande de vous suivre

A la corvйe de Ho-yang. Dйjа

Je peux faire le repas du matin."

Au milieu de la nuit, les bruits cessent

On entend comme un sanglot cachй...

Le jour pointe, je reprends ma route:

Au vieillard, seul, j'ai pu dire adieu.

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, pp.226-227.

The Conscription Officer at Shih-hao

It was late, but out in the night

when I arrived, he was collaring men.

Her husband, the old inn-keeper, slipped

over the wall, and she went to the gate.

The officer cursed loud and long, lost in

his rage. And lost in grief, an old woman

palsied with tears, she began offering

regrets: My three sons left for Yeh.

Then finally, from one, a letter arrived

full of news: two dead now. Living

a stolen life, my last son can't last,

and those dead now are forever dead and

gone. Not a man left, only my little

grandson still at his mother's breast.

Coming ang going, hardly half a remnant

skirt to put on, she can't leave him

yet. I'm old and weak, but I could hurry

to Ho-yang with you tonight. If you 'd

let me, I could be there in time,

cook an early meal for our brave boys.

Later, in the long night, voices fade.

I almost hear crying hush - silence...

And morning, come bearing my farewells,

I find no one but the old man to leave.

In: HINTON, David, The selected poems of Tu Fu, New York, New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1989, pp.36-37.

78 We use the terms 'metaphors' and 'symbolic imagery' in a general sense. (See the examples given in the following paragraph). The intention is not to extricate isolated figurations but to analyse how images successively unfold and what is the working system of the language derived from this succession.

79 [See: Part II, p.185].

TU FU 杜甫

月夜

今夜鄜州月

閨中只獨看

遥憐小兒女

未解憶長安

香霧雲鬟濕

清輝玉臂寒

何時倚虚幌

雙照淚痕乾

Nuit de lune

Cette nuit / lune sur Fu-chou

Dans le gynйcйe / seule а regarder

De loin chйrir / petits fils-filles

Non encore capables de / se rapeller Longue-paix

Brume parfumйe / chignon de nuage mouiller

Clartй pure /bras de jade fraоchir

Quel moment / s'appuyer contre rideau

Йclairer а deux / traces de larmes sйcher

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.185.

Moonlit night

To-night Fu-chou moon

My-wife can-only alone watch

distant sorry-for little sons-daughters

Not-yet understand remember Ch'ang-an

Fragant mist cloud-hair wet

Clear light jade-arms cold

What-time lean empty curtain

Double-shine tear-marks dry

In: HAWKES, David, A Little Primer of Tu Fu, Hong Kong, The Chinese University of Hong Kong-The Oxford University Press, 1994, pp.31-32.

80朱門酒肉臭，路有凍死骨 Zhumen jiurou chou, luyou dongsi gu (Tu Fu: Tsu ching fu Feng-hsien-hsien yong-huai wu-pai tsu).

In these two verses the images of "red doors" and "winemeat" are to be taken as synecdoches while that of "roads" is to be assimilated to a metonym. But... once again, we would like to make it clear that we are concerned in classifying matters.

81[See: Part. II, p.192].

TU FU 杜甫

春夜喜雨

好雨知時詳

當春乃發生

隨風潛入夜

潤物細無聲

野徑雲俱黑

江船火獨明

曉看紅濕處

花重錦官城

Bonne pluie, une nuit de printemps

Bonne pluie /connaоtre saison propice

Au printemps /alors favoriser vie

Suivre vent/furtive pйnйtrer nuit

Humecter objects/dйlicate sans bruit

Sentiers sauvages / nuages tout noirs

Barque fluviale /fanal seul lumineux

А l'aube regarder/ endroit rouge mouillй

Fleurs alourdies / Mandarin-en-robe-de-brocart

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.192.

Spring Night, Delighted by Rain

Lovely rains, knowing their season,

Always appear in spring. Entering night

Secretly on the wind, they silently

Bless things with such delicate abundance.

Clouds fill country lanes with darkness,

The one light a riverboat lamp. Then

Dawn's view opens: all bathed reds, our

Blossom-laden City of Brocade Officers.

In: HINTON, David, The selected poems of Tu Fu, New York, New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1989, p.61.

82 [See: Part. II, p.185].

See: Note 79.

83 [See: Part. II, pp.186-187].

See: Note 66.

84 See: Anthologie de la poйsie chinoise classique - for a [French] translation of this long poem.

85 襄王雲雨今何在，江水東流猿夜啼 Xiangwang yunyu jin hezai, jiangshui dongliu yuan yeti (Li Po: Hs iang-yang ke·).

86 [See: Part. II, p.153].

TU MU 杜牧

遣懷

落魄江南載酒行

楚腰腸斷掌中輕

十年一覺揚州夢

赢得青樓薄倖名

Aveu

Ame sombrйe fleuve-lac / portant vin balader

Taille de Ch'u entrailles brisйes / corps lйger dans la paume

Dix annйes un sommeil / rкve de Yang-chou

Gagner parmi les pavillons-verts / renom de l'homme sans cњur

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.153.

In Idle Meditation

Down and out I wander over the waters with a supply of wine,

The girls here are like the wasp-waisted beauties of Ch'u,

So light that they could dance on the palm of one's hand.

For ten years I have lived besotted in Yang Chou,

And now all that I have to show for it is the reputation for a night-of-love in the houses of ill fame.

In: JENYNS, Soame, trans., Selections from the Three Hundred Poems of the T'ang Dynasty, London, John Murray, 1940, pp.44-45.

87 誰驚一行雁，衝斷過江雲 Shui jing yi hang yan, chong duan guo jiang yun (Tu Mu: Chiang lou·).

88 [See: Part. II. p.125].

WANG CH'ANG-LING 王昌齡

宮怨

閨中少婦不知愁

春日凝妝上翠樓

忽見陌頭楊柳色

悔教夫婿覓封侯

Complainte du palais

Dans le gynйcйe jeune femme / ne pas connaоtre chagrin

Jour printanier se parer / monter йtage en bleu

Soudain apercevoir sur le chemin /couleur de saules

Regretter avoir laissй йpoux / chercher titre nobiliaire

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p. 125.

Grief in the Ladies' Apartments

In the women's apartments is a young woman who does not know sorrow.

On a spring day she paints her face and goes up to the kingfisher tower.

Suddenly she notices the willow buds are bursting along the paths

And she regrets she has sent away her husband in search of military glory.

In: JENYNS, Soame, trans., Selections from the Three Hundred Poems of the T'ang Dynasty, London, John Murray, 1940, p.46.

89 IV-VI centuries BC [220-589BC].

90 The meaning is indeed quite vast, comprising, for instance the "mйtaphores filйes " ("knitted metaphors") defined by M. Riffaterre.

91 There are several English translations of this poem, notably that by J. D. Frodsham [not available].

[See: Part. II, p.242].

LI HO 李賀

李慿箜篌引

吳絲蜀桐張高秋

空白凝雲颓不流

江娥啼竹素女愁

李憑中國彈箜篌

崑山玉碎鳳凰叫

芙蓉泣露香蘭笑

十二門前融冷光

二十三絲動紫皇

女媧煉石補天處

石破天驚逗秋雨

夢入神山叫神嫗

老魚跳波瘦蛟舞

吳質不眠倚桂樹

露腳斜飛濕寒兔

Le k'ung-hou

Soie de Wu platane de Shu /dresser automne haut

Ciel vide nuages figйs / choyant et ne coulant plus

Dйesse du fleuve pleurer bamboos /Fille Blanche se lamenter

Li P'ing au Milieu du Pays / pincer le k'ung-hou

Mont K'un-lunn jades se briser / couple de phoenix s'interpeller

Fleurs de lotus verser rosйes / orchidйes parfumйes rire Douze portiques par devant / fondre lumiиres froides Vingt-trois cordes de soie /йmouvoir Empereur-Pourpre Nь-wa transformant rochers / rйparer voыte cйleste Pierres fendues ciel йclatй /ramener pluie automnale Rкvant pйnйtrer Mont Magique / initier la chamane Poissons vieillis soulever vagues / long dragon danser Wu Chih hors du sommeil /s'appuyer contre cannelier Rosйes ailйes obliquement s'envolant / mouiller liиvre frissonant

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise / suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.242.

Li P'ing on the K'ung-hou Harp

Wu silk, Shu paulownia wood, streching high Autumn;

Sky white, congealed clouds crumbling, not floating;

The Ladies of the River Hsiang shedding tears on the bamboo, the White-silk Girl sorrowful;

Li P'ing playing the k'ung-hou harp in the capital of China.

Mount K'un-lun jade shatters, phoenixes scream,

Lotuses weep dew, fragant orchids smile.

In front of the twelve city gates the cold light melts;

Twenty-three strings move the Purple Emperor.

Where the goddess Nь Wa with smelted stones mended the sky,

Stones break, and the sky astonished, induces the Autumn rains.

In dreams, entering the Mythic Mountains to teach the Mythic Sorceress;

Aged fish leap the waves, scraggy dragons dance.

Wu Kang, sleepless, leans on the cassia tree;

A trail of dew flies aslant, wets the shivering hare.

In: TU, Kuo-ch'ing, Li Ho, Boston, Twayne Publishers, 1979, pp.76-77.

92 [See: Part II, pp.201 (poem and commentary), 204].

LI SHAN-YIN 李商隱

錦瑟

錦瑟無端五十絃

一絃一柱思華年

莊生曉夢迷蝴蝶

望帝春心託杜鵑

滄海月明珠不淚

桑田日暖玉生煙

此情可待成追憶

只是當時已惘然

Cithare ornйe de brocart

Cithare ornйe pur hasard / voici cinquante cordes

Chaque corde chaque chevalet / dйsirer annйes fleuries

Lettrй Chuang rкve matinal / s'illusioner papillon

Empereur Wang cњur printanier / se confier tu-chьan

Mer sans fond lune claire/perles avoir larmes

Champ Bleu soleil ardent/jades naоtre fumйe

Cette passion pouvant durer / devenir poursuite-souvenir

Seulement au moment mкme / dйjа dй-possйdй

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise/ suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.204.

The patterned lute

Mere chance that the patterned lute has fifty strings.

String and fret, one by one, recall the blossoming years.

Chuang-tzu dreams at sunrise that a butterfly lost its way,

Wang-ti bequeathed his spring passion to the nightjar.

The moon is full on the vast sea, a tear on the pearl.

On Blue Mountain the sun warms, a smoke issues from the jade.

Did it wait, this mood, to mature with hindsight?

In a trance from the beginning, then as now.

In: GRAHAM, A. C., trans. and intro., Poems of the Late T'ang, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1965, 171.

For the use of metaphors in Li Shang-yi it is also interesting to read the poem (Sans titre) Untitled with our respective commentaries.

LI SHAN-YIN 李商隱

無題

相見時難别亦難

東風無力百花殘

春蠶到死絲方盡

蠟炬成灰淚始乾

曉鏡但愁雲鬢改

夜吟應覺月光寒

蓬萊此去無多路

青鳥殷勤爲探看

Sans titre

Se voir bien difficile /se sйparer davantage

Vent d'est perdre force / cent fleurs faner

Vers а soie jusqu' а la mort/soies alors йpuiser

Flamme de bougie devenir cendres / larmes seulement sйcher

Miroir du matin s 'attrister/chignon de nuage changer

Chant de nuit ressentir / clartй lunaire froidir

Mont P'eng d'ici aller / sans aucun chemin

Oiseau Vert sans relвche /pour surveiller

In: CHENG, Franзois, l'йcriture poйtique Chinoise /suivi d'une anthologie des poиmes des T'ang, Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1982, p.200.

Untitled poems (vi)

For ever hard to meet, and as hard to part.

Each flower spoils the failing East wind.

Spring's silkworms wind till death their heart's threads:

The wick of the candle turns to ash before its tears dry.

Morning mirror's only care, a change at her cloudy temples:

Saying over a poem in the night, does she sense the chill in the moonbeams?

Not far from here to Fairy Hill.

Bluebird [sic], be quick now, spy me out the road.

In: GRAHAM, A. C., trans. and intro., Poems of the Late T'ang, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books (Classics), 1965, p. 150.

* Translator's note: this commentary is addressed to the author's French translation of the poem supporting his discourse in the main text, and not to the above English translation. See: III, p. 60

The Green Bird. [sic]The messenger of Hsi-wang-mu· (the Queen Mother of the West, daughter of the Celestial Sovereign and master of all sun setting lands).

In a series of poems of extremely allusive mood Li Shan-yin sang of the secret loves held by him with a court lady or with a Taoist nun. In this poem written in a 'spoken style' (except the first verse) unfolds a love theme (love and a parting drama) in a network of images and metaphors frequently based in phonal connections. In the third verse ts'an· ("silkworm") is homonymous [sic]with the expression ts'an mien ('amorous links', 'amorous encounters'), while ssu· ("silk" "threads") is homonymous with the word ssu· ('[amorous] thoughts', 'desire'). Also 'silk thread' is part of ch'ing ssu· ('green threads') which also means 'black hair' from which derives the image of "chignon" in the fifth verse. In the fourth verse hui· ("ashes") is part of the expression hsin-hui· ('broken heart') which prolongs the idea of a frustrated love, explicated in the previous verses. Furthermore hui· also stands for the colour 'gray', which is related to the image of the hair ["chignon"] colour "change" in the fifth verse. Once again in the fourth verse, the image of the "flame of candle" refers to both the image of the "wind" in the second verse, and to the image of the "brightness [of the] moon" in the sixth verse. At another level, the image of the "moon" brings to mind the identity of the solitary Goddess Ch'ang O which, in turn, recalls the thought of the distant lover and the eventuality of both lovers being forever reunited beyond death, in a land of bliss and eternal fulfillment.

The poem is thus transformed in a drama by the ensemble of images and metaphors which maintain in reciprocity the essential connections. The verses are not to be read as a descriptive narrative but to be savoured as a 'tragic performance'. In the second verse the images of the "wind" and "flowers" make allusion to a frustrated love at the same time suggesting the realization of the sexual act. The parallelism of the third and fourth verses continue this idea of the sexual copulation ("silkworms" and "candle") veiled under the theme of an 'oath of fidelity'. The fifth and sixth verses narrate the lovers separation subtly implying that the destiny of the lovers is that of Nature itself, a Nature in constant transfiguration. Moreover, this transformation is the essential condition which makes dreaming a reality. Unfolding through a series of phases indestructible by the passing of time, the poem opens up to infinity. See: Note 92.

93 滄海桑田 Canghai sangtian

94 Our translation and analysis are not meant to wrongly convey that the poem is nothing other but a conglomeration of images. It is in fact a tune where the absence of words expressing feelings is accentuated by the poignancy of the musicality. To a Chinese ear the verses are not less melodious than, for instance, the deliverance of Ariel in Shakespeare's The Tempest: "Full fathom five thy father lies / Of his bones are coral made / Those are pearls that were his eyes / Nothing of him that doth fade / But doth suffer a sea-change / Into something rich and strange / [...]", or less 'telling' that in Maurice Scиve complaints: "En moy je vis, oщ que tu sois absente, /En moy je meurs, oщ que soye present. / Tant loing sois tu, toujours tu es present,/Pour pres que soye, encore suis je absent/[...]."

95 [See: Part. II, p.132].

See: Note 62.

* Lecturer at the Institut National de Langues et Civilisations Orientales, Universitй de Paris III, (National Institutes for Oriental Languages and Civilizations, University of Paris III), Paris.

*** Qi Bu Shi, · meaning 'Seven-Step Poem'. The story goes that Cao Zhi· was forced to compose a poem with a limit limit set by his power-thirsty brother Cao Pei, · who was jaelous of poet's literary gift and achievement and thus bent on finding an excuse to kill him. Cao Zhi wrote this poem while walking and just finished it at the count-down of seven steps.

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