96. On Dayu Mountains North Station
A poem by Song Zhiwen, translated by Hyun Woo Kim
The wild geese that fly south in October,
By hearsay I heard, go back when they reach here.
My road is not so, not over yet;
What day will I return again?
The river is still—the tide falls at last;
The dusk in the forest—the bad air will not spread.
Tomorrow morning, looking in my hometown’s direction,
I will certainly see the apricot blossoms on the hill’s top.
「題大庾嶺北驛」
陽月南飛雁
傳聞至此回
我行殊未已
何日復歸來
江靜潮初落
林昏瘴不開
明朝望鄉處
應見隴頭梅
From Hyun Woo:
Happy New Year, everyone! I am currently writing this in a city in China called Mudanjiang. The name can be translated as ‘Peony River’. Honestly, I cannot remember a city with a better name than this.
We have the first Tang poem of 2026 today, written by Song Zhiwen. Song had a rough life of continuous banishment, which ended in being ordered by the emperor to commit suicide. (I know, what a cheerful way to start the New Year.) With this in mind, we can further grasp what the poet is thinking when he asks himself what day he will return home.
Is the poem above only depressing, though? From the way I see it, the last four lines carry the sense of hope. Even in worst moments, Song was a poet who still believed that he would be able to see apricot blossoms.
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