Chinese poet Qu Yuan

Last edited Tue Jun 11, 2024, 08:49 AM - Edit history (1)

In commemoration of the Dragon Boat Festival today June 10, 2024





Qu Yuan was one of the greatest poets of ancient China and the earliest known by name. His highly original and imaginative verse had an enormous influence over early Chinese poetry.

Qu Yuan was born a member of the ruling house of Chu. While still in his 20s he was appointed a trusted, favoured counselor of his kinsman Huaiwang, the ruler of Chu. Qu Yuan advocated the unpopular policy of resistance to Qin, the most powerful of the Warring States, causing his rival courtiers to intrigue successfully against him. Estranged from the throne through the malice of his rivals, Qu Yuan was banished to the south of the Yangtze River by Huaiwang’s successor, Qingxiangwang.

In despair over his banishment, Qu Yuan wandered about southern Chu, writing poetry and observing the shamanistic folk rites and legends that greatly influenced his works. He eventually drowned himself in despair in the Miluo River, a tributary of the Yangtze. The famous Dragon Boat Festival, held on the fifth day of the fifth month of the Chinese lunar year, originated as a search for the poet’s body.

https://www.britannica.com/biography/Qu-Yuan


Crossing the Yangtze by Qu Yuan translated by Gopal Sukhu


Crossing the Yangtze

In my youth I loved these strange clothes,
And the love has not faded although I am old—
A sword’s long glimmer drags from my waist,
On my head a cloud-piercing headdress towers,
And from my neck hang the moonlight gem and the precious lu jade.

But when mud flowed into the waters of these times,
the world forgot my value,
So I’m galloping high and not looking back.

Dragons, both green and white, pull my chariot,
And when I roam with Lord Chonghua in the yao-stone gardens,
And climb the Kunlun Mountains to eat the flower of jade,
I will live as long as Heaven and Earth,
And glow as bright as the sun and the moon.

Though I lament that no one knows me in the savage south,
I will cross the Yangtze and Xiang Rivers at dawn,
Look back as I mount the banks of the River Islet of E,
And sigh in the last breezes before autumn turns to winter,
As I walk my horses on the hillsides,
and halt my chariot in the Square Forest.

Boarding a small boat on the Yuan I float upstream.
Long oars of Wu strike the waves in unison,
But the lingering boat will not go forward,
and sits caught still in a whirlpool.
At dawn I set forth from Wangzhu
to spend the night at Chenyang.
As long as I keep an upright heart,
What wound is exile in far wilds?

Yet entering the Xu River20 I hesitate,
Lost, not knowing where I’m going,
As I go deep into darker and darker forest,
discovering the places where gibbons live.

Below the sun-blocking height of the mountains,
lost valleys of rain-filled gloom.
And above the high borderless realm of hail and snow,
no sky roof other than cloud swell.

Lamentable my joyless life here,
Living alone in the remotest part of the mountains—
Lacking the heart to change and herd with the vulgar,
Assuring me misery till the end of my days.

Jieyu shaved his head.
Sanghu went naked.

The loyal will be employed—
not necessarily.
The worthy will be put to use—
not necessarily.

Master Wu met calamity,
Bi Gan’s flesh was minced and brined.

If such men suffered even under the ancient kings,
What do I expect my complaints will accomplish today?
Yet I hold to the Way and will not waver,
Certain to pass my days in the dark of the dark.