Canonical Classics ← 第十回
第十回
lǎolóngwángzhuōfàntiāntiáo
wèichéngxiàngshūtuōmíng

The Old Dragon King's Foolish Scheme Transgresses the Statutes of Heaven · Minister Wei's Bequeathed Letter Is Entrusted to an Officer of the Dead

漁翁閑趣
模式 Mode Read Study
拼音 Pinyin Off
字體 Script
原文 Original text 繁體 Traditional Reader's edition 含詞賦 With rhapsody

漁翁閑趣 The Fisherman's Idle Hours

wēngdào:「zhèdōushìliǎngshēngshànshēndegòudàngquèméiyǒuxiánshíjiédehǎochùyǒushīwéizhèngshīyuēwēngdào:「zhèdōushìliǎngshēngshànshēndegòudàngquèméiyǒuxiánshíjiédehǎochùyǒushīwéizhèngshīyuē

xiánkàncāngtiānbáifēitíngzhōupànyǎncāngfēixiánkàncāngtiānbáifēitíngzhōupànyǎncāngfēi
péngjiāocuōgōuxiànzhàotóngshàiwǎngwéipéngjiāocuōgōu线xiànzhàotóngshàiwǎngwéi
xìngdìngguǒránlàngjìngshēnānshìjuéfēngwēixìngdìngguǒránlàngjìngshēnānshìjuéfēngwēi
suōqīngsuíshízhuóshèngguàcháozhōngshòu。」绿suōqīngsuíshízhuóshèngguàcháozhōngshòu。」

逐句解 Line by line

wēngdào:「zhèdōushìliǎngshēngshànshēndegòudàngquèméiyǒuxiánshíjiédehǎochùyǒushīwéizhèngshīyuē wēngdào:「zhèdōushìliǎngshēngshànshēndegòudàngquèméiyǒuxiánshíjiédehǎochùyǒushīwéizhèngshīyuē

The fisherman said: 'These are the trades that keep the two of us — the business of feeding ourselves. But you have nothing to match the delights of my idle hours. I have a poem to prove it. The poem runs:'

贍身 is to keep body and soul together, and 勾當 (gòu dàng) here means simply an occupation, a line of work; the sneering later sense of shady dealing has not yet attached to it. Having settled the trades, the fisherman moves the contest onto leisure, and up a form, from to the strict eight-line 律詩. in 這都是 is dōu, 'all,' and in 為證 is wéi.

xiánkàncāngtiānbáifēitíngzhōupànyǎncāngfēi xiánkàncāngtiānbáifēitíngzhōupànyǎncāngfēi

At my leisure I watch the white cranes fly across the blue sky; mooring my boat by the stream, I close my grey-wood door.

The opening couplet, the 首聯, leads with the recluse's badge: the white crane, bird of the immortals and of untrammeled freedom. 蒼扉 is a plain door of weathered wood, so the pair of lines sets open sky against closed retreat.

péngjiāocuōgōuxiànzhàotóngshàiwǎngwéi péngjiāocuōgōu线xiànzhàotóngshàiwǎngwéi

Leaning on the awning, I teach my son to twist the fishing-line; resting the oar, together with my wife I spread the nets to dry.

is jiāo here, teaching a skill to somebody, and is the full , 'son'; is to roll between the palms and 罷棹 to lay down the oar. The second couplet, the 頷聯, pairs 教子 with 同妻 and makes a small domestic scene out of shared, unhurried work.

xìngdìngguǒránlàngjìngshēnānshìjuéfēngwēi xìngdìngguǒránlàngjìngshēnānshìjuéfēngwēi

With my nature settled, all is as calm as stilled waves; my body at peace, I feel of course how faint the wind.

The third couplet, the 頸聯, turns inward. 性定, the nature composed, and 身安, the body at peace, are terms of self-cultivation rather than idle description: the stilled waves and faint wind outside are a readout of the state within. 自是 is 'naturally, of course.'

suōqīngsuíshízhuóshèngguàcháozhōngshòu。」 绿suōqīngsuíshízhuóshèngguàcháozhōngshòu。」

Green straw cape and blue bamboo hat, worn as the season asks — far better than wearing the purple-ribboned robes of the court.

The closing couplet, the 尾聯, puts the poem's whole case into one image: 綠簑青笠, the green cape and blue bamboo hat of a working fisherman, weighed against the 紫綬衣, the robe with the purple seal-ribbon of high office — and judged the better wear. is zhuó, 'to wear,' and in 朝中, 'at court,' is cháo. The 」 closes the recitation.


總評 Commentary

The move from to regulated 律詩 raises the formality of the contest. The fisherman's poem keeps the strict eight-line pattern with its middle couplets fully parallel, 教子 against 同妻 and 性定 against 身安, and it travels inward as it goes: from the open image of cranes and stream, through the domestic work of teaching a son and drying nets, to the settled nature and quiet body of the self-cultivator, likened to still water and faint wind.

The last couplet delivers the point the whole 漁樵問答 has been circling. The fisherman's 綠簑青笠, his rough cape and hat, are declared far better than the 朝中紫綬衣, the purple-ribboned robes of the court: plain freedom set directly against the emblem of rank. The irony gathers once you remember where this conversation is happening. In the shadow of Chang'an, it is about to reach the ear of a dragon, and through him the court itself.