How gladly I would seek a mountain
If I had enough means to live as a recluse!
For I turn at last from serving the State
To the Eastern Woods Temple and to you, my master.
...Like ashes of gold in a cinnamon-flame,
My youthful desires have been burnt with the years-
And tonight in the chilling sunset-wind
A cicada, singing, weighs on my heart.
Original Poem
「秦中感寄远上人」
孟浩然
一丘尝欲卧，三径苦无资。
北土非吾愿，东林怀我师。
黄金燃桂尽，壮志逐年衰。
日夕凉风至，闻蝉但益悲。
Interpretation
This poem was composed between 728 and 729 AD, during Meng Haoran's forties, a period when he was stranded in the capital, Chang'an. Having failed the imperial examination that year, he did not return south immediately but remained in the capital, continuing to seek a path to advancement. However, reality proved far harsher than imagined: the exorbitant cost of living in Chang'an made survival difficult, and his former poetic fame and social connections failed to secure him any substantial patronage. In another poem, he wrote, "In silence, what do I await? / Day after day, I return home empty-handed," a true portrait of this difficult and frustrating phase of his life.
The "Monk Distant" in the title refers to a monk whose Dharma name was "Distant," a friend of Meng Haoran outside worldly affairs. The Eastern Jin monk Huiyuan founded the White Lotus Society on Mount Lu, establishing the Pure Land school of Buddhism, which later became a spiritual symbol for monastic recluses. By using "Eastern Forest" to refer to the monk's abode, Meng Haoran not only shows respect but also subtly compares his friend to Huiyuan and himself to a follower of the Lotus Society. At this time, he was physically in the "Northern Land" of Chang'an, but his heart yearned for the "Eastern Forest" of Mount Lu—these two geographical poles represented the opposing choices in his life.
The poem's most distinctive feature is its unvarnished depiction of a scholar-official aspirant's poverty and plight. Chinese literati writing about frustration often lament unrecognized talent, thwarted ambition, or the difficulty of finding a kindred spirit. Rarely did anyone write as directly as Meng Haoran about "having no money." "I long for a retreat, yet lack the means for its upkeep" and "my funds are exhausted, for fuel is dear as cassia"—this is the predicament of lacking even the travel money to retire. It wasn't that he didn't wish to leave; he couldn't afford to. This utter destitution makes the poem exceptionally candid and poignant within Meng Haoran's collected works.
First Couplet: "一丘尝欲卧，三径苦无资。"
Yī qiū cháng yù wò, sān jìng kǔ wú zī.
Long have I wished to retire to a rustic hill, / Yet lack the means to tend my hermit's paths at will.
The opening directly voices a long-held aspiration, only to plunge immediately into the mire of reality. "A rustic hill" alludes to the Book of Han, meaning a simple, reclusive life. "My hermit's paths" refers to the overgrown garden paths in Tao Yuanming's "Returning Home," symbolizing a recluse's retreat. Both are core symbols of eremitic discourse. The poet uses two allusions consecutively, unafraid of repetition, precisely to emphasize: seclusion is not a passing fancy, but a lifelong wish. Yet all wishes are thwarted by the same word: "lack" (or "suffer from"). The suffering stems not from a lack of recommendation or an unwise ruler, but simply from—having no money. This word "lack/suffer" is so simple it borders on starkness, yet is more devastating than any expression of grief or indignation. When ideals are reduced to travel expenses, when the spiritual path of return is blocked by a material threshold, reclusion ceases to be a noble choice and becomes an unaffordable luxury.
Second Couplet: "北土非吾愿，东林怀我师。"
Běi tǔ fēi wú yuàn, dōng lín huái wǒ shī.
The Northern Capital was never my desire; / My heart dwells on the Eastern Wood, home to my Master.
This couplet presents a complete inversion of value judgments. "The Northern Capital" is Chang'an, the empire's center, the destination countless scholars devoted their lives to reaching. Yet Meng Haoran states—"was never my desire." It is not that he sought office and failed; it is that he did not wish to seek it but was compelled to. This sense of being torn, of forced involvement, is more suffocating than mere examination failure. "The Eastern Wood" is the Eastern Forest Temple on Mount Lu, where Master Huiyuan established his society, the spiritual homeland of Chinese eremitic Buddhism. Meng Haoran addresses the monk as "my Master," showing respect for a specific friend, but more profoundly, signifying his spiritual allegiance to the world beyond worldly affairs. From "Northern Capital" to "Eastern Wood," from "never my desire" to "my heart dwells on," the poet completes his spiritual renunciation of Chang'an and his spiritual conversion to Mount Lu. Yet this conversion is suspended—he can only "dwell on" in thought, not "go to."
Third Couplet: "黄金燃桂尽，壮志逐年衰。"
Huángjīn rán guì jìn, zhuàngzhì zhú nián shuāi.
My gold is spent like fuel, as dear as cassia; / My once-high aspirations fade with each passing year.
This couplet is the poem's most poignant part, depicting the dual exhaustion of both material and spiritual resources. "Fuel… as dear as cassia" alludes to the Strategies of the Warring States: Strategies of Chu: "In Chu, grain is costlier than jade, firewood than cassia," describing exorbitant prices. Meng Haoran does not simply say "my gold is spent," but "my gold is spent like fuel, as dear as cassia"—the gold isn't just spent; it is consumed, burned up like precious firewood. The word "spent like fuel" implies a process, a gradual depletion. He watched his savings vanish bit by bit, just as he watched his ambitions wither with the years. The word "fade" in "aspirations fade" suggests a gradual decline, a wasting away. It is not a sudden collapse, but the erosion of time. Meng Haoran, in his forties, already speaks of his spirit "fading." This is not physical aging, but the aging of hope.
Final Couplet: "日夕凉风至，闻蝉但益悲。"
Rì xī liángfēng zhì, wén chán dàn yì bēi.
The evening brings a chill wind, sigh upon sigh; / The cicadas' song but deepens my sorrow nigh.
Ending emotion with scene is Meng Haoran's signature technique. "A chill wind" heralds autumn; "cicadas" symbolize a lofty yet brief life. Yet here, there is none of the serene coolness found in his other nature poems. The chill wind is merely chilling; the cicadas' song is merely saddening. The phrase "but deepens my sorrow" is the emotional endpoint of the entire poem. "Deepens" indicates accumulation, intensification, a descent. The poet finds no solace in the wind or cicadas, no comfort in the twilight. He merely grows sadder, colder, older.
Overall Appreciation
This is the most nakedly honest poem in Meng Haoran's collection. It is naked in its direct depiction of poverty—"lack the means" and "my gold is spent"—a level of hardship unseen in his other works. It is naked in its direct confrontation of conflict—"was never my desire"—a complete negation of Chang'an, of office-seeking, of his earlier life choices. It is naked in its direct admission of waning resolve—"aspirations fade"—a poet in his forties prematurely passing judgment on his own decline. Yet the poem's most moving aspect is not its sadness, but that within the sadness, it still clings to the thought of the "Eastern Wood." Material resources are exhausted, ambitions have faded, the chill wind has come, the cicadas' song saddens—yet in his heart, he still holds a "Master," still cherishes the "Eastern Wood." That lamp is not extinguished; it simply no longer lights his way.
The poem's four couplets trace a linear descent of emotion: the first states the foundering of an ideal; the second inverts values; the third describes the depletion of body and spirit; the final couplet enacts the sinking of mood. Meng Haoran leaves himself no exit, offers no concluding beam of moonlight, lotus-scented breeze, or temple bell. He simply lets himself sink into that realm of chill wind and cicadas' song.
This is Meng Haoran's most honest writing. He is unafraid to be seen in poverty, in hardship, in decline. He fears only forgetting—forgetting the Eastern Wood, forgetting the Master, forgetting that self which "long wished to retire."
Artistic Features
- Rare "Poverty Discourse" in Classical Poetry: Chinese literati writing on frustration often lament unrecognized talent or thwarted ambition, rarely addressing "lack of means" as directly as Meng Haoran does. "Lack the means" and "my gold is spent" juxtapose spiritual and material hardship, creating an unbridgeable rift between the eremitic ideal and the necessities of survival.
- Value-Encoded Spatial Imagery: "Northern Capital" and "Eastern Wood" form the poem's moral coordinate system. The former is Chang'an, the official path, "never my desire"; the latter is Mount Lu, the world beyond, "home to my Master." Geographical locations are imbued with ethical hierarchy; spatial choice signifies life choice.
- Poignant Use of Allusion: "A rustic hill," "my hermit's paths," "Eastern Wood," "fuel… as dear as cassia"—Meng Haoran employs four allusions in succession without seeming contrived. This is because these allusions are no mere ornamentation; they are the conceptual framework through which he understands his own fate. He places himself in the lineage of Tao Yuanming, Huiyuan, and the strategist Su Qin, recognizing his own predicament in the ancients.
- The Cruel Internalization of Time: "Fade with each passing year" contains the poem's cruelest implication. It describes not a moment but a protracted process. Meng Haoran did not collapse upon failing the exam; it was during the ensuing, countless days of "returning home empty-handed" that he was gradually worn down by time.
- A Final Couplet of Unrelieved Descent: The poem concludes with "The cicadas' song but deepens my sorrow," refusing all solace. The chill wind brings no comfort, the cicadas offer no companionship, the twilight holds no tenderness. This is a rare lightless night in Meng Haoran's poetic world.
Insights
This poem teaches us: The cruelest enemy of idealism is often not the suppression of power, but the erosion of poverty. It was not that Meng Haoran lacked the will to retire. He had his "rustic hill," his "hermit's paths," his "Eastern Wood," his "Master." He simply lacked the travel funds. This fact is brutally simple. It reduces "reclusion" from a lofty spiritual choice to an unaffordable luxury.
In contemporary society, many remain similarly trapped between the "Northern Capital" and the "Eastern Wood": yearning for a simpler, more authentic life, yet pinned down by mortgages, medical costs, and children's education. Meng Haoran's "lack the means" is not a dilemma unique to the Tang; it is a persistent ailment of civilization—transforming spiritual exits into material barriers. Yet this poem does not advocate abandoning ideals. On the contrary, at his most difficult moment, Meng Haoran still wrote, "My heart dwells on the Eastern Wood, home to my Master." He did not forget that direction; he did not deny that it was, and remains, his true "desire."
Poverty could trap his body, hinder his journey home, but it could not trap the Master in his heart, the Eastern Wood in his thoughts. On a Chang'an autumn day a millennium ago, a commoner poet with exhausted funds wrote this poem to a distant monk-friend amidst a chill wind and cicadas' song. He had nothing material to send—no poetic scrolls, no gifts, not even the fare for his return. He could only send his hardship, his fading spirit, his sorrow, and an unwavering remembrance. This is perhaps friendship in its purest form: **When I possess nothing, I can still send my very self to you.
Poem translator
Kiang Kanghu
About the poet
Meng Haoran (孟浩然), 689 - 740 AD, a native of Xiangyang, Hubei, was a famous poet of the Sheng Tang Dynasty. With the exception of one trip to the north when he was in his forties, when he was seeking fame in Chang'an and Luoyang, he spent most of his life in seclusion in his hometown of Lumenshan or roaming around.
