After these ten torn wearisome years
We have met again. We were both so changed
That hearing first your surname, I thought you a stranger -
Then hearing your given name, I remembered your young face...
All that has happened with the tides
We have told and told till the evening bell.
Tomorrow you journey to Yo-chou,
Leaving autumn between us, peak after peak.
Original Poem
「喜见外弟又言别」
李益
十年离乱后，长大一相逢。
问姓惊初见，称名忆旧容。
别来沧海事，语罢暮天钟。
明日巴陵道，秋山又几重？
Interpretation
Composed in the aftermath of war, this poem captures a decade-spanning reunion between the poet and his cousin amidst the turmoil following the An Lushan Rebellion and subsequent warlord conflicts. Their unexpected meeting—fraught with both joy and existential melancholy—serves as a microcosm of displacement and fractured kinship during China's medieval upheavals. The verses distill the bittersweet essence of wartime reunions: fleeting connection overshadowed by impending separation.
First Couplet: "十年离乱后，长大一相逢。"
Shí nián lí luàn hòu, zhǎng dà yī xiāng féng.
After ten years of chaotic separation / We meet again, grown to adulthood
The opening line immediately anchors the reunion in historical trauma. "Chaotic separation" (离乱) encapsulates war's dual devastation—physical displacement and emotional rupture. The stark contrast between childhood parting and adult encounter underscores time's transformative power within catastrophe's shadow.
Second Couplet: "问姓惊初见，称名忆旧容。"
Wèn xìng jīng chū jiàn, chēng míng yì jiù róng.
Startled at first meeting, I ask your surname / Hearing your name, I trace your childhood visage
This couplet masterfully choreographs recognition's delayed spark. The necessity to "ask surnames" lays bare war's erosive effects on identity and memory. The gradual resurfacing of "childhood visage" through naming becomes an archeology of the self—piecing together fragmented pasts in a fractured present.
Third Couplet: "别来沧海事，语罢暮天钟。"
Bié lái cāng hǎi shì, yǔ bà mù tiān zhōng.
Since parting, sea-change vicissitudes / Our words exhaust as evening temple bells toll
"Sea-change vicissitudes" (沧海事) metaphorizes war's transformative chaos, while the fading dialogue against deepening bells embodies time's inexorable flow. The temple bells—simultaneously marking sacred time and secular separation—heighten the moment's ephemerality.
Fourth Couplet: "明日巴陵道，秋山又几重？"
Míng rì Bā líng dào, qiū shān yòu jǐ chóng?
Tomorrow you'll tread Baling Road / Through how many autumn mountain folds?
The concluding query spatializes temporal dread. "Baling Road" becomes an existential vector—not just a physical path but a metaphor for life's uncertain journeys. The "autumn mountains" multiply as psychological barriers, their folds mirroring war's lingering shadows on human connections.
Holistic Appreciation
This poem compresses a decade of societal collapse into a single charged encounter. Through meticulous sequencing—from stunned recognition through hurried reminiscence to looming separation—it maps war's psychological topography. The reunion scene becomes a palimpsest: present joy overwritten by past trauma and future anxiety.
The work achieves profound universality by intertwining personal memory with historical cataclysm. The evening bells and autumn mountains transcend literal description to become temporal markers—measuring both a day's passage and an era's disintegration.
Artistic Merits
- Narrative-Lyric Integration: Chronicles reunion as lived experience while distilling it into existential meditation.
- Chronometric Imagery: Temple bells and autumn seasons map human stories onto cosmic time.
- Topographical Symbolism: Roads and mountains spatialize emotional states—distance as despair, terrain as trauma.
- Dialectical Structure: Juxtaposes connection ("相逢") against separation ("别"), childhood against adulthood, speech against silence.
Insights
This Tang-era verse speaks acutely to modern realities of refugee crises and pandemic separations. Its central paradox—that profound connection often emerges through shared dislocation—resonates across eras. The poem reminds us that in fractured times, human bonds become both more fragile and more vital.
The autumn mountains' "how many folds?" question transcends geography to ask: How many layers of loss must we traverse to rebuild? In an age of global migration and digital alienation, this eighth-century reunion urges us to recognize kinship not just in bloodlines, but in collective survival of upheavals.
Poem translator
Kiang Kanghu
About the poet
Li Yi (李益), 748 - 829 AD, a native of Wuwei in Gansu Province, was one of the “Ten Scholarly Men of the Dali Dynasty”, and is best known for his works on the border and the Plateau, especially for his seven-character stanzas. His poems had a harmonious rhythm and were sung by musicians at that time.
