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| Wang Guxiang, Flowers of Four Seasons (1531) Handscroll, ink and light color on silk. (Artstor) |
In《春晓》by 孟浩然 and《秋雨夜眠》by 白居易, the two
poets paint comparable
illustrations of transient nature lost during a long slumber from a rainy night
to a frosty morn as a result of passing time, but while the former explicitly
contemplates on the vicissitudes of life, the latter appears to choose bliss
regardless of the external environment.
Despite its brevity,《春晓》may be appreciated from three possible versions:
(1)
春眠不觉晓，处处闻啼鸟。
夜来风雨声，花落知多少。
夜来风雨声，花落知多少。
春眠不觉晓，处处闻啼鸟。
夜来风雨声，春眠不觉晓。
处处闻啼鸟，花落知多少。
The
first and original version (1) may be read in two ways: firstly as a recollection of the night
before, and secondly as the hyperbolic depiction of short-lived days. In the
first, one slowly and vaguely arouses from sleep by the chirping of birds around
him in a spring morning. Perhaps he lays in bed a while longer, feeling languid
and unenthusiastic about leaving his bed and starting another agenda ahead. His
mind wanders and recollects the sounds of wind and rain from the night before,
then suddenly, as though regaining full consciousness, a cloud of melancholy descends
over him and causes him to wonder how many blossoms have fallen overnight, as a
consequence of the weather and of his ignorance in sleep. The latter reading
offers a chronological and relatively elementary but nevertheless compelling
understanding of the poem: one begins the day by being gently awakened by the
birds, with neither anxiety nor knowledge of the time of the day, then as a
metaphor for the swiftness of time, night quickly follows with the bustling of
wind and rain. The protagonist then becomes sentimental towards both the
brevity of life for an individual in a day and for the falling or fallen spring
blossoms in unprecedented moments. Although man is superior to nature in
intelligence and will, both are subject to the fate of time, and in that sense,
man belongs to and in nature. Both the former and latter begin with the promise
of a new day by the pleasant sounds of birds in nature, but while the former
traces back in time and into memory, the latter fasts forward in time, yet both
end in dejection in the realization and meditating on the impermanence of life
everywhere, from the rising and setting of the sun, from the chirping of birds
to the coldness of rain and winds, and to the blooming of new life on trees to
the falling of flowers without foreknowledge.
The second version (2) inverts the original structure, beginning with the winds and rain at night. The subsequent line,「花落知多少」, most likely describes the protagonist being awake in his bed, listening to the rain and wind, and wondering how many flowers have fallen because of the weather; falling into sleep until the next morning, he slowly arouses into consciousness by the sound of the birds, and the poem ends as though nothing had happened the night before. This interpretation evokes the feeling of disappearance with time: although the past was very real and was once a present time, the lapse of just one night already renders the past as forgotten, as if the past was dead and irrelevant to the new day ahead, and all is well at the moment. The third version (3) intermixes the two lines to form a sequential, logical flow of the events: it begins at night with the poet listening to the sound of wind and rain, then with the interval of just one comma to symbolize the fleeting passage of time, the next spring morning arrives, but the protagonist, still deeply asleep, does not know it is already daytime. In the next line, he had awakened and observes the chirping of birds everywhere, but without explication and almost recovering from a state of forgetfulness, suddenly recollects the previous night, and contemplates how many flowers have been lost throughout the rain. Regardless which interpretation is true or intended, all of them involve the attempt to ponder on the subject time and the loss in nature.
The second version (2) inverts the original structure, beginning with the winds and rain at night. The subsequent line,「花落知多少」, most likely describes the protagonist being awake in his bed, listening to the rain and wind, and wondering how many flowers have fallen because of the weather; falling into sleep until the next morning, he slowly arouses into consciousness by the sound of the birds, and the poem ends as though nothing had happened the night before. This interpretation evokes the feeling of disappearance with time: although the past was very real and was once a present time, the lapse of just one night already renders the past as forgotten, as if the past was dead and irrelevant to the new day ahead, and all is well at the moment. The third version (3) intermixes the two lines to form a sequential, logical flow of the events: it begins at night with the poet listening to the sound of wind and rain, then with the interval of just one comma to symbolize the fleeting passage of time, the next spring morning arrives, but the protagonist, still deeply asleep, does not know it is already daytime. In the next line, he had awakened and observes the chirping of birds everywhere, but without explication and almost recovering from a state of forgetfulness, suddenly recollects the previous night, and contemplates how many flowers have been lost throughout the rain. Regardless which interpretation is true or intended, all of them involve the attempt to ponder on the subject time and the loss in nature.
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| Chen Hongshou, Paintings after Ancient Masters: Taoist and Crane (1598-1652) Album leaf, ink and color on silk. (Arstor) |
In contrast, the
protagonist in《秋雨夜眠》, specifically an old man, does not explicitly
question how many maple leaves have fallen, but simply describes his
observations, leaving his audience themselves to ruminate in sentimentality. Instead
of a spring morning, 白居易sets his poem in a chilly
autumn night, when a leisurely old man goes to bed later than usual, and after
extinguishing his night lamp, falls asleep listening to the beautiful sound of
rain outside. In the room, he feels the warmth from the burning charcoal and
smells the incense effusing into his blankets. Abruptly, showing the speed of
time, it is daytime again but the old man remains asleep due to the cold
weather; but perhaps when he does leave his bed and either looks out his window
or walks out his door, he finds a cloak of maple leaves covering the full
surface of the steps. Both poems use the change in weather – represented by
rain, and in the first case, wind as well – to cause the falling of blossoms
and maple leaves. This change comes as a result of nature and life with the
movement of time. Autumn, the end of the year, and spring, the beginning of a
new year, both have the potential to elicit downcast emotions on the loss of
nature, highlighting a sense of brutality, or rather, neutrality of time: time
favors no one, whether beautiful or bleak, young or old. It is inevitable and
without human control. Yet the sheer passing of seconds create dramatic effects
on how man perceive and live in the awareness of past, present and future.
Yesterday, the blossoms and maple leaves were still there; last night, wind and
rains came and blew away the blossoms and leaves within seconds; this morning,
it is a new day again and the wind and rains have gone, but where are the
blossoms and maple leaves on the trees? They have all fallen, dead, returned to
the ground. Beauty is no more. The world today differs from yesterday, from the
yester-hour, yester-minute, tester-second.
Compared to the protagonist in the first poem, the leisurely old man in the second poem actually lingers longer in slumber, which is natural and understandable due to the cold autumn weather; but between the two characters, the former appears more proactively intellectual than the latter, for while the former does not need to actually see the fallen flowers to think about how many have been lost, whereas the latter purely engages with his senses and displays no intellectual energy. In fact, the audience may not even be sure whether he, like the former, bears any sentiments on the fallen leaves that he sees. However, if we were to compare between the second version of《春晓》(2) and the current interpretation of the old man in《秋雨夜眠》as one who lives without reflection, then both poems end in a less gloomy note on the loss in nature and time, because each protagonist then lives life as usual. But even this conclusion has its own shadow of pity, because both protagonists would appear naively innocent, or at least, forgetful people who live without reflection, which may be good for the carefreeness and bad for the ignorance. On the other hand, the old man, upon seeing the maple leaves all over the steps, may meditate on the loss of life, which he had been oblivious of throughout his cozy slumber under his warm and incense-filled blankets. Both poems mention the sound of rain, but while the multiple versions of the first poem consist of at least one interpretation in which the protagonist being conscious of the implications of rain on the flowers, the old man in the second poem is so blithe in his sleep that he enjoys the melody of rain, not aware or thinking about the deadly implications of the same rain that he hears on the maple leaves outdoors, not knowing that when he awakes, life in nature will have been long lost.
Compared to the protagonist in the first poem, the leisurely old man in the second poem actually lingers longer in slumber, which is natural and understandable due to the cold autumn weather; but between the two characters, the former appears more proactively intellectual than the latter, for while the former does not need to actually see the fallen flowers to think about how many have been lost, whereas the latter purely engages with his senses and displays no intellectual energy. In fact, the audience may not even be sure whether he, like the former, bears any sentiments on the fallen leaves that he sees. However, if we were to compare between the second version of《春晓》(2) and the current interpretation of the old man in《秋雨夜眠》as one who lives without reflection, then both poems end in a less gloomy note on the loss in nature and time, because each protagonist then lives life as usual. But even this conclusion has its own shadow of pity, because both protagonists would appear naively innocent, or at least, forgetful people who live without reflection, which may be good for the carefreeness and bad for the ignorance. On the other hand, the old man, upon seeing the maple leaves all over the steps, may meditate on the loss of life, which he had been oblivious of throughout his cozy slumber under his warm and incense-filled blankets. Both poems mention the sound of rain, but while the multiple versions of the first poem consist of at least one interpretation in which the protagonist being conscious of the implications of rain on the flowers, the old man in the second poem is so blithe in his sleep that he enjoys the melody of rain, not aware or thinking about the deadly implications of the same rain that he hears on the maple leaves outdoors, not knowing that when he awakes, life in nature will have been long lost.
It is curious as to why 白居易 specifies the
protagonist of
the second poem as a leisurely old man. Would the same poem depicted for anyone work
the same way? If for a child, the first interpretation of the innocent old man
would have gained more sympathy from the audience. If for an old woman, perhaps
feminine beauty and youth may be the heart of the matter at stake. Nonetheless,
the image of an old man, and a leisurely one, accompanied by the specified
season of autumn, alludes to the waning ages of life. Perhaps only an old
person can afford to be leisurely? For, of course, society demands so much from
younger people that they simply cannot enjoy the privilege of sleeping in even
on a cold autumn day, let alone feel「安闲」. Or perhaps this old man
still has a job and is merely an example of someone who, like 陶渊明, adopts the
psychology of「心远地自偏」? If so, one could,
indeed, intentionally live without a care of the world, but how much value does
emotional and mental detachment bring to authentic living, if one chose to feel
indifferent to everything around them, even the loss of life?
In all versions of《春晓》, 孟浩然 exposes the complex
layers of human consciousness of one who is, for the most part, fully living as
opposed to one who is「心远地自偏」: the fragmented and
unforeseeable notions of forgetting and recollecting; the state of being awake
and aware versus that of being asleep and completely at rest; the response to
being awake as a reflection on the attitudes of living life for another day;
and the state of ambiguity and unknowing when one is in the transitory phase
between sleeping and awaking as one recovers the senses, as in this case,
hearing the chirping of birds. Perhaps the flower
represents all pleasant things in the world, as beauty wanes and youth fades
with time without one’s knowing. Perhaps sleep not only represents physical
rest but the spiritual, mental and emotional state of being: one may be awake
but not living, yet what is the good in being a walking dead? What should our best
response be to the loss of nature? After all, the ways of the world are without
our control. Are
we to regularly delve in grief and melancholy each time we are fully aware of
the passing of time, and then desperately conjure positive attitudes and thoughts in ourselves
to keep our sanity and rekindle new hopes of living to the
fullest despite the cruelties of the world? Can we live in accordance and in touch with nature instead of
viewing it as a foe? Or is「心远地自偏」really our best remedy? Which refines us to mature more, and which
helps us live more truly to ourselves?
While the age of the protagonist in the first poem
does not bear as much significance as the second poem, this lack of specificity
breaks the barriers of age, gender and socio-economic and political status to
achieve a sense of universality, and hence, a sense of truth. Both 孟浩然 and 白居易 skillfully and
successfully capture and articulate common-day experiences that are relatable
and personal to everyone. Yet this power of universality across centuries also
evokes the phenomenon that one can read the same poem many times, but will see
or take from it something different, as individual circumstances and attitudes towards
life adapt and evolve: An elementary student could memorize the two poems as
two beautiful descriptions of spring and autumn upon sleeping and waking up. A
college student would perhaps, in the first poem, empathize with the transience
of time and lament at the brevity of life; and in the second poem, admire the
carefreeness of the old man and wish to live as one wishes, whether to sleep
later or to sleep longer. The college student could also appreciate the beauty
of maple leaves even if they have fallen overnight, because he would understand
that although life is all about ebb and flow, cherishing and living in the
present is the most important. The working adult, the father, and the retired
grandfather would each have their own perceptions and interpretations of each
poem in each of their own lifetime as roles, responsibilities and attitudes
change as inevitably and as potently as the seasons.
