Po Chu-yi(772–846) was born in Xinzheng to a poor but scholarly family. At the age of ten he was sent away from his family to avoid a war that broke out in the north of China, and went to live with relatives in the area known as Jiangnan, more specifically Xuzhou. He passed the jinshi in 800. His official career was initially successful: he was a member of the Hanlin Academy and Reminder of the Left from 807 until 815, when he was demoted and exiled after remonstrating with the Emperor Xian Zong over the failure to catch the murderer of two high officials. His career resumed when he was made Prefect of Hangzhou (822-824) and then Suzhou (825-827). His grave is situated on Xiangshan, across the Yi River from the Longmen cave temples in the vicinity of Luoyang, Henan.

 

Po Chu-yi wrote over 2,800 poems, which he had copied and distributed to ensure their survival. They are notable for their relative accessibility: it is said that he would rewrite any part of a poem if one of his servants was unable to understand it. The accessibility of Bai Juyi's poems made them extremely popular in his lifetime, in both China and Japan, and they continue to be read in both countries today.

 

Two of his most famous works are the long narrative poems The Song of Everlasting Sorrow, which tells the story of Yang Guifei, and The Song of the Pipa Player. Like Tu Fu, he had a strong sense of social responsibility and is well-known for his satirical poems, such as The Elderly Charcoal Seller.

 

Po Chu-yi also wrote intensely romantic poems to fellow officials with whom he studied and traveled. These speak of sharing wine, sleeping together, and viewing the moon and mountains. One friend, Yu Shunzhi, sent Bai a bolt of cloth as a gift from a far-off posting, and Po Chu-yi debated on how best to use the precious material:

 

Po Chu-yi

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Ballad of Endless Woe

 

 

 

 

Translated by W. J. B. Fletcher

 

 

 

The lord of Han loved beauty;

In loves desire he pined.

For years within his palace

Such love he could not find.

 

A maiden in the house of Yang

To wedlock's age had grown.

Brought up within the harem,

And to the world unknown.

 

A lovely form of Heavens mould

Is never cast aside.

And so this maid was chosen

To be a Prince's bride.

 

If she but turned her smiling,

A hundred loves were born.

There are no arts, no graces,

But by her, looked forlorn.

 

'Twas in the chilly Springtime,

They bathed in Hua-ch'ing Lake;

And in the tepid waters

The crusted winter slake.

 

When thence attendants bore her,

So helpless and so fair;

Then first beat in the Prince's breast

Desire and tender care.

 

With cloud-like hair and flower like-face

Her tinkling footsteps ring.

How warm in her pure curtains

To pass a night of Spring!

 

The nights of Spring are short, alas!

Too soon the sunlit dawn!

From then no longer held the Prince

His court at early morn.

 

But steeped in love, at banquets side

No other business knew.

One Spring behind another came,

One night the next renew.

 

Although within his palace

Three thousand beauties dwelt

His love for these three thousand

Did not one bosom melt.

 

When dressed, in secret chamber

Her beauty served the night.

In gilded hall, the banquet done,

The wine brought love's delight.

 

Her brothers and her sisters

Were ranked on steps of fame.

And all her humble cottage

Was lit with honours flame.

 

Until throughout the Empire

All parents hailed with joy

The birth of some fair maiden;

And wanted not a boy.

 

The lofty palace balconies

Amid blue clouds abide,

Their fairy storm of sweet delights

Goes echoing far and wide.

 

'Twas wanton song, lascivious dance,

And stringed music's fire.

The whole day long the Emperor gazed,

And never seemed to tire.

 

When like an earthquake came the boom

Of drums and war's alarms,

To shatter that sweet rainbow song

Of beauty in love's arms.

 

The clouds of dust rolled gloomily

About the palace doors,

As chariots, troops of horsemen,

Went westwards to the wars.

 

That lady fair would go with him,

And then she stayed again.

At last she came the forty miles;

And lodged her on the plain.

 

Alas! the armies will not start.

No hope is there at all,

Till those persuasive eyebrows

Before the chargers fall.

 

Her ornaments the earth receives;

Neglected there they lie.

Her feathers, golden hair clasp,

And pins her blood-stains dye.

 

Her Lord cannot now rescue.

His mantle hides his face.

With that last look the tears of blood

In trickling sorrow race.

 

The yellow dust is scattered wide,

And desolate the wind,

As up a spiral bridge of cloud

She leaves the earth behind.

 

Below great Omi Mountain

But rarely people go;

And dimly falls the sunlight;

And dull the banners flow.

 

Are green the streams of Szechwan;

And verdant Szechwan's hills

Yet morn by morn and night by night

What grief his bosom fills!

 

When from his tent the moon he sees,

His breast is charged with woe.

The rain of night, the watches' bell,

Like torments through him go.

 

But loud rebellion's din resounds,

He to his chariot fares

With steps unequal came he there;

And halting thence repairs,

 

Beneath the slope of Ma-wei,

And hidden in the soil,

He cannot see that lovely face

That death has made its spoil.

 

The prince gazed on his ministers.

Their tears together flow.

They eastwards saw the city;

And turned their steeds to go.

 

Her lake, her garden still were there;

Unchanged were they all:

The lotus in the T'ai-yeh Lake,

the willow by the hall.

 

The lotus seemed her face to be.

Her brows the willow seem.

The sight of them made gush again

His tears in bitter stream.

 

When plum and peach the spring renewed,

And blossoms opened well

When wu-t'ung leaves in autumn rain

Before the breezes fell,

 

Within the courts unheeded grew

And rank the autumn grass;

And all the steps were red with leaves,

Ne'er swept for him to pass.

 

The tresses of her comrades

Were newly streaked with grey.

The eunuchs of her palace

And women pined away.

 

The firefly flitting the room

Her spirit seemed to be;

The whole wick of his lamp he trimmed,

Yet sleep his eyes would flee.

 

How slowly through the dreary night

The bell the watches tolled.

How sleepless blinked the Milky way,

Ere dawn the light unrolled!

 

When chill the roof where true love dwelt,

How thick the frost flakes form!

When cold the halcyon's coverlet

Who then can make it warm?

 

In dreary gloom his life wore on;

And years have passed, I deem;

But never yet her spirit came

To soothe him in a dream.

 

By chance there came a wandering priest,

Was steeped in magic lore,

And skilled to call the spirit home

That dwelt on Pluto's shore.

 

In pity for the Prince's grief,

That never let him rest,

He, Fang-Shih, sent to seek her,

And bade him do his best.

 

The driving power of air he fixed,

Like lightening thence he flew.

The highest heaven, the lowest earth

He searched through and through.

 

Above he searched the azure vault,

The yellow Styx below;

Both stretched in gloomy emptiness,

Nor traces of her show.

 

And then he learnt that on the sea

There was a fairy hill.

It stood upon the void obscure,

That glamour covers still.

 

Fair, glinting, high it's turrets rose,

And spanned with rainbow hair;

Where many fairies stood about,

So modestly and fair.

 

And one among them, T'ai-chen called,

Than all the rest more are,

So white her skin, so sweet her face,

None could with her compare.

 

He knocked him on the fairy door,

The palace western hall;

And bade the young attendants

That lady fair to call.

 

And when she heard that tidings

From Han Huang waited by,

From out the silken curtains

Her dream did swiftly fly.

 

She thrust aside the pillow;

Her garments hurried on;

And through the rich-set doorway

Her wav'ring steps have gone.

 

Her cloud-like hair hung all awry,

So fresh from sleep the dame.

With coronal all slanted,

Into the hall she came.

 

Her fairy sleeves the wind blew up

They floated on the air.

Like rainbows seemed her raiment,

Like wings her garment fair.

 

Her lovely face looked whist and sad,

And tears were in her eyes.

She seemed a sweet plum blossom

Where spring rain pearling lies.

 

Her heart she stilled; her glances veiled;

And thanked her Emperor's care.

"My voice," she said, "since parting.

My face my sorrows wear.

 

"In Chao-yang Court my love remains.

It knows no other sway.

Through palaces of Fairyland

But slowly drags the day.

 

"When I would turn my head to view

The world of men below,

I never can see Chang-an;

So thick the mist wreaths flow.

 

"But take the former things I had,

To show my love how true.

This ornament and golden pin

To take him, give I you.

 

"One half this golden pin I keep

Now broken in my grasp.

The other half to him I send,

With half this golden clasp.

 

"And tell him that my heart is fixed,

As true as is the gold.

In heaven mortals meet again.

I wait him purely bold."

 

The messenger was going thence.

He asked one word again.

"There is one thing," she said to him,

"Known only to us twain.

 

"The seventh moon, the seventh day

We stood in Chang-sheng Hall.

'Twas night, and none beside us;

We two were all in all.

 

"We swore that in the heaven above

We never would dispart:

One tomb on earth enclose of us

The frail and mortal part."

 

ooo000ooo

 

The heaven is vast; and earth is old;

And time will wear away.

But this their endless sorrow

Shall never know decay.