靦面恧心 Shamefaced and Sick at Heart
穢翰墨於金簡，標瓦礫於珠林。循躬省慮，靦面恧心。甚不足稱，虛勞致謝。」秽翰墨于金简，标瓦砾于珠林。循躬省虑，腼面恧心。甚不足称，虚劳致谢。」
逐句解 Line by line
“I have fouled the golden tablets with my brush and ink, and set up tiles and rubble in a forest of pearls.”
⚠ Two images of the same idea, and both are about putting something cheap among something precious. 金簡, golden tablets, are what important texts get written on. 珠林, a forest of pearls, is a standing metaphor for a collection of fine writings. 瓦礫 — broken tiles and gravel, builder's rubble. The self-deprecation has now gone on for three sentences and shows no sign of stopping, which is exactly correct for the form. A Chinese preface that praised itself would be unreadable.
“Looking over myself and examining my thoughts, my face is shamed and my heart is sick with it.”
⚠ 循躬省慮 — going over the body, inspecting the thoughts. It is Confucian vocabulary: the daily self-examination a gentleman is supposed to perform. 靦面恧心 — a shamed face and a mortified heart. Both characters are rare and both mean embarrassment, one in the face and one in the chest. So the emperor of China is describing a blush.
“It is not at all worth praising, and you have thanked me for nothing.”
⚠ 虛勞致謝 — your thanks have been trouble taken for nothing. He tells the man who has just knocked his head on the floor that the gratitude was wasted. And the exchange closes exactly where it opened. Taizong began this by saying he had nothing with which to repay the Tang monk's merit. Eighty lines of the finest prose of the dynasty later, he says the same thing again: it was not worth anything. 甚不足稱 — very much not enough to be called anything.
The apology runs for three more sentences and does not let up: fouled golden tablets with ink, set builder's rubble in a forest of pearls, went over himself and found his face shamed and his heart sick with it. The emperor of China is describing a blush, in the vocabulary of the daily self-examination a Confucian gentleman is supposed to perform.
⚠ And the last thing he says is that the monk's thanks were wasted. Not worth praising at all, and you have troubled yourself for nothing.
⚠ Which closes the exchange exactly where it opened. Taizong began by telling his court he had nothing with which to repay his royal brother's merit. He lay awake all night, composed the most famous preface in the language, had it written down, handed it over — and then said the same thing again: it came to nothing. The novel does not comment. It simply lets the emperor be right back where he started.