Late autumn—frost and dew weigh deep,
At dawn I walk the valley steep.
Yellow leaves shroud the brook’s old bridge,
Ancient trees guard the village’s ridge.
Cold blooms sparse in solitude,
Hidden springs pulse in quiet mood.
Long have I forgotten worldly art—
Why startle these deer, my peaceful heart?
Original Poem
「秋晓行南谷经荒村」
柳宗元
杪秋霜露重，晨起行幽谷。
黄叶覆溪桥，荒村唯古木。
寒花疏寂历，幽泉微断续。
机心久已忘，何事惊麋鹿。
Interpretation
Composed around 805 AD during Liu Zongyuan's exile as a minor official in Yongzhou following the failed Yongzhen Reform, this poem exemplifies his "landscape of exile" aesthetic. Written during his decade-long banishment, the work transforms a morning hike through abandoned southern valleys into a metaphysical journey through political disillusionment and spiritual isolation. The poem's deceptive simplicity belies its intricate layering of visual and auditory impressions that mirror the poet's internal exile.
First Couplet: "杪秋霜露重，晨起行幽谷。"
Miǎo qiū shuāng lù zhòng, chén qǐ xíng yōu gǔ.
Late autumn—frost and dew lie thick,
At dawn I walk the valley's gloom.
The opening establishes temporal and spatial exile: "late autumn" (杪秋) signals both seasonal and political twilight, while "valley's gloom" (幽谷) becomes a topographical metaphor for bureaucratic marginalization. The heavy frost and dew suggest nature's indifference to human suffering.
Second Couplet: "黄叶覆溪桥，荒村唯古木。"
Huáng yè fù xī qiáo, huāng cūn wéi gǔ mù.
Yellow leaves smother the stream's plank bridge,
The deserted village keeps only ancient trees.
Liu's "deserted village" (荒村) motif reaches its zenith here. The "smothered" bridge implies broken connections, while the surviving "ancient trees" (古木) stand as silent witnesses to human transience—perhaps mirroring the poet's own condition as a relic of failed reform.
Third Couplet: "寒花疏寂历，幽泉微断续。"
Hán huā shū jì lì, yōu quán wēi duàn xù.
Chilled flowers sparse in desolation,
Hidden springs falter between flow and pause.
The couplet's sensory precision embodies exile's paradox: "chilled flowers" (寒花) persist despite adversity, much like Liu's unextinguished ideals, while the "faltering springs" (幽泉微断续) mirror his interrupted political influence. The juxtaposition of botanical and hydrological imagery creates an ecosystem of solitude.
Fourth Couplet: "机心久已忘，何事惊麋鹿。"
Jī xīn jiǔ yǐ wàng, hé shì jīng mílù.
Scheming long forgotten—
Why startle these grazing deer?
The conclusion's feigned detachment ("scheming long forgotten") rings hollow against the startled deer's accusatory presence. These deer—traditional symbols of bureaucratic freedom—become ironic judges of the poet's claimed apathy. Their alarm suggests Liu's political instincts remain intact despite professed withdrawal.
Holistic Appreciation
This poem is a quintessential example of landscape poetry that transcends mere scenery to convey profound emotion. With concise language and vivid imagery, Liu Zongyuan paints a desolate late-autumn scene in Southern Valley—a creek bridge covered with yellow leaves, an abandoned village with only ancient trees, sparse cold blossoms, and intermittent murmuring springs—composing a tranquil yet melancholic portrait of mountain village life in autumn.
Beneath this static scenery, however, lies the poet's inner turmoil. As a disgraced official exiled to remote Yongzhou, his political aspirations shattered, Liu could neither truly retreat from the world nor forget his sorrows. This poem captures his unresolved conflict—the desire to escape worldly troubles while remaining tethered to them. The concluding line, "Long have I forgotten schemes of men—why startle these deer?" appears self-deprecating and detached, yet reveals a bitter smile and lingering sorrow. His attempt at transcendence remains incomplete; the startled deer mirror not just a recluse's presence but also his unspoken lament about life's hardships.
The poem's austere atmosphere and restrained brushwork sketch the poet's solitary journey through a desolate village with remarkable economy. Its understated elegance epitomizes Liu Zongyuan's landscape poetry during his "Eight Records of Yongzhou" period.
Artistic Merits
- Scene-Emotion Fusion, Profound Feeling
Liu Zongyuan embeds emotion into scenery without explicit lament. Every word reflects his life experience, achieving perfect harmony between feeling and landscape. - Precise Diction, Austere Style
Words like "yellow," "cold," "hidden," "sparse," and "broken" not only depict images but also carry emotional weight, deepening the poetic realm. - Philosophical Depth, Layered Meaning
The ending line questions the ideal of "forgetting worldly cunning," revealing Liu's philosophical introspection and unhealed wounds, blending thought with sorrow.
Insights
This work reflects Liu Zongyuan's solitude and introspection after political downfall. Through morning travels and desolate village scenes, he places himself in a stark, silent world, using objects to express unspoken ideals. The tension between his desire to forget the world and his lingering attachments resonates deeply. The poem teaches us that in adversity, while nature and ideals may offer solace, true spiritual liberation remains an arduous journey. It is both a snapshot of Liu's inner pilgrimage and a testament to an intellectual's struggle for integrity amid disillusionment.
About the Poet
Liu Zongyuan (柳宗元, 773 - 819), a native of Yuncheng in Shanxi province, was a pioneering advocate of the Classical Prose Movement during China's Tang Dynasty. Awarded the prestigious jinshi degree in 793 during the Zhenyuan era, this distinguished scholar-official revolutionized Chinese literature with his groundbreaking essays. His prose works, remarkable for their incisive vigor and crystalline purity, established the canonical model for landscape travel writing that would influence generations. As a poet, Liu mastered a distinctive style of luminous clarity and solitary grandeur, securing his place among the legendary "Eight Great Masters of Tang-Song Prose" - an honor reflecting his enduring impact on Chinese literary history.
