To One Unnamed 3, 无题之三

Time was, long before I met her, but longer still, since we parted,
The east wind is powerless, for it has come and a hundred flowers are gone,
Spring's silk-worms will spin until they die
And every night candles will weep their wicks away.
In the morning mirror she sees her temple hair changing the color of clouds
Chanting poems in the chill of moonlight.
Oh, it is not so very far to Penglai
O blue-birds listen, bring me what she says.

 

Penglai, detail of painting by Yuan Jiang (袁江), 1680-1730

Interpreting Li Shangyin

This is the third of five poems Tang poet Li Shangyin wrote to a female muse, one unnamed.

Line one describes the difficulty of the two lovers(?) meeting, time being the greatest obstacle. Powerless is the East Wind 东风 Dōngfēng of spring because all its flowers have come and gone. For we, mere mortals, life will go on like the silkworm spinning, until it dies. And each night the candle wax weeps as the wick fades away.

The poet’s unnamed muse sees herself in the mirror. She sees the silver hairs growing at her temples. Still she chants her poems in the chill of moonlight 月光 Yuèguāng .

It is not far to Never-never lan.

That is how one would translate 蓬莱 Pénglái . In Chinese mythology it is a mythical island, home to the Eight Immortals, where there is no pain and no winter; where rice bowls and wine glasses never become empty no matter how much people eat or drink; and where enchanted fruits grow that can heal any ailment, grant eternal youth, and raise the departed.

Chinese

无题之三

相见时难别亦难
东风无力百花残
春蚕到死丝方尽
蜡炬成灰泪始干
晓镜但愁云鬓改
夜吟应觉月光寒
蓬莱此去无多路
青鸟殷勤为探看

Pinyin

Wútí zhī sān

xiāng jiàn shí nán
bié yì nán dōngfēng wúlì bǎihuā cán
chūncán dào sǐ sī fāng jǐn
là jù chéng huī lèi shǐ gàn
xiǎo jìng dàn chóu yúnbìn gǎi
yè yín yīng jué yuèguāng hán
pénglái cǐ qù wú duō lù
qīngniǎo yīnqín wèi tàn kàn