Sorry, I’ve been falling behind, but I have an excellent excuse: I’ve been indulging my crush on Quan Deyu. I don’t yet know that much about him, but I picked up a group of little poems and they are just excellent, so I’ve been knocking them into shape.
First, a redux of the last poem, because I didn’t make it pithy enough, and all of these require pith.
Knowing What is Wrong Time-honoured teachings are our pleasure, For men of rank, our virtue’s treasure. There is no need for wild song In secret glens where grass grows long. 权德舆 知非 名教自可乐，搢绅贵行道。 何必学狂歌，深山对丰草。
In other poems, Quan gave up the pretence, and copped directly to his love of drinking.
Drinking Alone Alone I’ll drink, alone I’ll drink, Until my cup holds dawn’s ambrosia pink. Everything else is hollow, false, But all the virtues can be found in drink! The wind is cool, the moon is pale, I never could exhaust these joys, I think. 权德舆 独酌 独酌复独酌，满盏流霞色。 身外皆虚名，酒中有全德。 风清与月朗，对此情何极。
And in other poems, he was definitely not satisfied with drinking alone.
After Drinking Gorgeous wine and admirable people Are an intimate association. Come night, you flowers join the spring revels In the Valley of Inebriation. 权德舆 醉后 美禄与贤人，相逢自可亲。 愿将花柳月，尽赏醉乡春。
There is lip-service paid to conventional morality here: we are celebrating worthy folk, and the kinds of pleasures that have been culturally approved for millennia. But in the second half of the poem, the nature of the party and the kind of intimacy he wants are laid out fairly explicitly: those flowers revelling in the night are exactly who you might think.
My favourite of this little group is this wicked piece of advice:
Renouncing Words Say it and you may not do it Think too much, away it slips, So when hearts burst with grand ambitions, More than ever, seal your lips. 权德舆 诫言 言之或未行，前哲所不取。 方寸虽浩然，因之三缄口。
On the surface, a somewhat pious reminder to value action over words. Bubbling just below, a plea to those with big ideas to shut the fuck up.
Phil, could you comment on a poem by Wang Wei? My understanding falters.
A lone old man bone-tired and dragon slow,
I reach this temple of ch'an stillness asking,
the meaning of mind's meaning -- but soon
far off, know emptiness is an empty disease.
Buddha eyes contain rivers and mountains
and the dharma body holds time and space,
so why wonder at blazing heat easing away?
Ch'an depths open vast landscapes of wind.