Canonical Classics ← 第八十回
第八十回
chàyángqiúpèiǒu
xīnyuánzhǔshíyāoxié

The Fair Girl, Nursing the Yang, Seeks a Mate · The Mind-Ape, Guarding His Master, Knows a Fiend

密砌重堆
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

密砌重堆 Heaped in Clustered Banks

kànbèiyīnzhīchùqiānbānjǐngxiàngyángzhīsuǒwàncónghuākànbèiyīnzhīchùqiānbānjǐngxiàngyángzhīsuǒwàncónghuā
yòuyǒuqiānniánhuáiwànzǎiguìnàihánsōngshāntáoguǒsháoyàohànróngcuáncuánchóngduīluànfēnfēnshénxiānnánhuàyòuyǒuqiānniánhuáiwànzǎiguìnàihánsōngshāntáoguǒsháoyàohànróngcuáncuánchóngduīluànfēnfēnshénxiānnánhuà

逐句解 Line by line

kànbèiyīnzhīchùqiānbānjǐngxiàngyángzhīsuǒwàncónghuā kànbèiyīnzhīchùqiānbānjǐngxiàngyángzhīsuǒwàncónghuā

Look there — on the shaded side, a thousand kinds of scene; / on the sunward side, ten thousand thickets of flowers.

The shaded and sunward faces of a slope are and , the same pair that names the two great forces — here used in their plain, everyday, hillside sense.

yòuyǒuqiānniánhuáiwànzǎiguìnàihánsōngshāntáoguǒsháoyàohànróngcuáncuánchóngduīluànfēnfēnshénxiānnánhuà yòuyǒuqiānniánhuáiwànzǎiguìnàihánsōngshāntáoguǒsháoyàohànróngcuáncuánchóngduīluànfēnfēnshénxiānnánhuà

And there are the thousand-year pagoda tree, the ten-thousand-year juniper, the cold-enduring pine, the mountain peach, the wild peony, the drought hibiscus, clustered thick and heaped in layered banks, so wildly scattered that no immortal could paint them.

Three readings worth marking in one line. is zǎi, a year, not the zài of loading a cart. is cuán, to cluster together, not the zǎn of saving money up. And is chóng, layered and repeated, not the zhòng of weight — the flowers are stacked, not heavy.


總評 Commentary

After all the binding and the darkness, the wood suddenly produces a catalogue of flowers. The rhapsody form allows this: it is a list of everything present, and the pleasure is in the accumulation rather than in any one item.

The closing boast is a standard one — no immortal could paint this — and it is the writer's way of admitting that the list has beaten him. It is also a small joke against the form itself, since a rhapsody is precisely an attempt to paint a place in words, and this one has just given up in the middle of a sentence.