Preface to the Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion (A Rhyming Poetry Translation)

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The Preface to the Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion ( 蘭亭集序; Lántíngjí Xu), from the 4th century AD, is generally regarded as the greatest work of Chinese calligraphy. Although the Preface itself is not poetry, it introduces a set of poems and the Chinese language itself is especially poetic because of its repeated sounds, use of tones, and clear monosyllabic rhythm. Thus, this poetic translation has sought to capture the sense of poetry in the air. Learn more about the Preface’s history here.

—Evan Mantyk, translator

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Preface to the Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion

by Wang Xizhi

It is the ninth year of Emperor Mu of the Jin Dynasty’s reign, in the year of the Yin Water Ox, at the beginning of the third month (after April 20, 353 AD). We are all gathered at the Orchid Pavilion in Shanyin County, Guiji Commandery, for the Spring Purification Festival.

The noblemen arrive this day in Spring,
From old to young, amidst these lofty mountains,
Amidst luxuriant bamboos such days bring,
Where spotless water gurgles by like fountains
Round the pavilion and reflecting sun.
The guests send wine cups floating down the stream,
And when the nearest wine cup’s floating’s done
The guest must then compose and wine redeem.
Although we lack a minstrel’s cheerful glow,
A cup of wine and poetry suffice
For letting conversation warmly flow.
Today the sky is bright; the air is nice.
A gentle breeze blows freely like our mirth.
When looking up, the universe is vast;
When looking down, abundance fills the earth
Contentment greets the mind that wanders past
A host of sights and sounds of pure delight.
How wonderful to know joy’s greatest height!

All men together live upon this earth
And some of them will share their deepest dreams
In private with a friend who seems of worth,
While others recklessly pursue their schemes.
And yet whatever choice one makes in life,
Whether very sound or very rash,
When something happy happens, joy is rife—
But this, and youth too, lose to History’s dash.
One becomes weary, losing heart, regretting;
The joy is gone as quickly as a blink,
A memory distant as a star that’s setting.
All is ordained to turn to dust and sink.
It’s been said, “Birth and death are both great days.”
I sigh. How sadly on my mind this plays!

When thinking on all those who’ve come before me,
Their writings, their regrets, it’s then I’m left
In sadness, though I know not why I should be.
Of course, I know life’s gift is not death’s theft—
To die when old is not like dying young.
And yet when future people think of me,
I’ll be the same as those Time has undone.
How sad! And so, I’ve written faithfully
The names of those who’re here, their poetry,
For even though the times and trends will change,
What we regret remains eternally
The same, and you and I are not so strange.
For those who read our words in future years,
Perhaps, you too, will fight back swelling tears.

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An early Tang Dynasty copy of the Preface by Feng Chengsu

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The First Day of the New Year

by Wang Anshi (1021-1086)

Exploding fireworks resound
__And one year fades away.
Warm winds of Spring are flowing round;
__Herb wine has come this way.

A thousand doors, ten thousand houses
__Shining in the sun.
Replacing talismans* arouses;
__Hands for peach wood run.

*The new peach wood talisman was hung on the door to ward off troubles and evil spirits in the new year.

Original

爆竹聲中一歲除
春風送暖入屠蘇
千門萬戶曈曈日
總把新桃換舊符

Bàozhú shēng zhōng yī suì chú
chūnfēng sòng nuǎn rù túsū
qiān mén wàn hù tóng tóng rì
zǒng bǎ xīn táo huàn jiù fú

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