Preface:
I have heard that the "Peony Pavilion" by the honorable Mr. Gong is written with a brush. The sentiment it expresses, "where emotions arise, they run deep; the living can die, and the dead can live," always resonates with me. Whenever I think about it, I am filled with emotions and my thoughts become even more sentimental. However, alas, life has its predetermined course, and its duration is limited. We encounter fate in the heavens and earth, and our comings and goings are governed by rules. Like ephemeral beings, we can only hope for good fortune, and like specks of dust, we can only aspire to goodness. Perhaps we will unexpectedly meet in the midst of flowers, or maybe we made a promise in a previous life to meet under the moon. Your purity is as clear as frost, and your depth is unparalleled. Your eyes and eyebrows are the only images I long for. My feelings for you are as warm and gentle as the thoughts of the world. It is not enough to express with a skilled brush or with refined ink, even if I were to imitate the honorable Mr. Xian Gong's work. I used to think that emotions would eventually fade away, and that thoughts could be suppressed. However, when faced with various images and memories, I cannot help but be moved. I am once again filled with a sense of tranquility. Therefore, I dare not use shallow and vulgar words to express my crude feelings. I can only express a fraction of my emotions.
The lyrics are as follows:
By observing "Dao De" and "Nan Hua," one can understand the predetermined nature of numbers. By studying "Lun Yu" and "Da Xue," one can see the rules of benevolence and the practices of rituals. Appreciating the ancient writings of the past to recognize their brilliance, and understanding the thoughts of countless generations to know their wisdom. All laws are seen as their foundation, and a thousand things are reflected in their shadows. However, it is difficult to count the origins of emotions, and the reasons for thoughts are still unknown. They are silent and elusive, quiet and mysterious. Yet, when emotions arise, they leave traces like the wind, and their movements are as majestic as the Kunpeng bird. Even if I were to exile myself and think alone, my appearance may not be worthy of your attention, and even if I were to use all my talent, I may not be able to capture your image. Your existence is still unknown, and your depth is difficult to fathom.
When we have not met, I stand idle at night and sleep with these thoughts. I long for the beauty of Hanggao and the meeting at Hengtang. As soon as my brush touches the paper, I am in the world of golden wind and jade dew. When it comes to poetry and lyrics, I am immersed in the gentle emotions of ten miles. When I experience life, I constantly think of the feelings of "Guan Ju" and the longing for the phoenix. When I play the qin, I cannot create a complete melody, and when I gently touch the strings, I cannot produce a pleasing sound. Even when I play the seven strings to perform "Autumn Wind," I sigh at the difficulty of expressing melancholy thoughts. When I play the flute to play "Xiao Xiang," I gradually feel the melancholy dissipate. When I long for separation, I listen to the faint sound of the morning wind and the dim moonlight. I unintentionally stroll on the dangerous tower, leaning on the railing, sharing deep thoughts about the clear autumn. When I open and close my eyes, I listen to the lingering and ethereal sound of the three-fold Li song. I gaze at the clouds and water, wanting to speak but stopping myself, and I long for the end of the world. I know that the shadows that teach me to be disheartened are just illusions and dreams. My thoughts are like mad words, and I understand that they are light and futile. I know that they are insignificant and empty, and my emotions are still deep and long-lasting. The feeling of this moment is difficult to wait for and recall. The surprise of a swan reflecting its image is just like this. I think that the loosening of a belt is not regrettable, and I wait alone in the eastern window for the white condensation to appear. I am ashamed of the previous doubts about life and death, and I regret the misunderstandings and underestimations. However, even though my sword is sharp, I am always alone. I feel the pain of my heart, and I regret that my sword is not sharp enough. I fold my hands and pray, bow my head and hope. I have not met Changqing, but I have stopped pursuing the phoenix recklessly. It is not just about the eyebrows, but the feelings in the heart. I know that the emotions I hold have a limit, and I can freely express them, but once they are released, they are difficult to stop. However, when I think about the past, I realize that the old shadows are shattered dreams, and the passing years have turned into fleeting red. I cherish the pure thoughts like a bright moon and the clear intentions like clean snow. I treasure the weight of this heart and the clarity of this emotion.
This is the end of my crude poem. The brush writes:
Two Poems with My Beloved
My intentions are deep, not superficial, and I should not have too many lingering thoughts. I often gaze at the autumn shadows in the courtyard, and my thoughts are incomplete and unspoken. The dim and hazy images are all from the past, and the clear and sparse emotions have already turned to dust. The longing for each other is only a light madness, and I also hope to see the lotus flowers in the secluded pond. I am not afraid to pursue the phoenix recklessly, and I am awake and asleep with my eyebrows drooping. It is fortunate that I am not sad, and I hope that the beautiful scenery will teach me the essence of emotions. I don't love poetry and books just for the sake of it, but I am naturally graceful and radiant. The passing years are like dissipating smoke and dreams, and the weary traveler returns home at the end of the world.
Untitled · With Emotions
We have crossed the Hengtang together, and our hidden fragrance is like a cold scent. Your graceful and gentle shadow, and the clear frost that is scattered and organized. You are beautiful and composed in your thoughts, and I long for you even though we have no fate. Don't be too cautious, don't be too eager, and long for Changqing to send a message to the phoenix.
This article is synchronized and updated on Mix Space and xLog.
The original link is https://nishikori.tech/posts/prose/2020-04-20