On November 14, 2016, I toured Yueyang Junshan and Yueyang Tower together with Professor Yan Ik Sang of Hanyang University in Seoul, Korea. At the time heavy fog arose, shaking the city yet not dispersing; as far as the eye could see, there was only thick mist. Near noon rain began, further helping to fill the vast void; the sun was low and dim, lingering without clearing. Professor Yan arrived happily; upon seeing it he could neither laugh nor cry. Having no alternative, he sighed in disappointment; we agreed to lean on the railing, facing Dongting Lake and holding our feelings for five minutes. Later he asked for a piece of writing, saying you could write a “New Record of Yueyang Tower” or “A New Record of Yueyang Tower”; a regulated verse of seven characters or an ancient fu would do. To bring you joy, I too had reason to complete a piece, and so forth. Now this humble poem has been completed, yet Professor Yan has already flown back to his country; though I crane my neck and stand on tiptoe, I do not see him. I add this note as a remembrance.
Wind and moon without bounds—yesterday’s talk;
Today at Yueyang, one walks alone①.
Dongting’s lake waters cannot be seen,
Junshan’s floating isle—till the eyes are pierced②.
Whence do vast dreams arise③?
To gaze afar at boundless blue—without cause.
Not as good as long conversing with you;
In vain I regret: brush in hand, the heart is hard to convey.
Postscript: ①To the utmost, it speaks of the greatness of the fog. ②On Junshan there is a stone stele engraved with the line “From atop Yueyang Tower facing Junshan.” ③Chairman Mao’s “Seven-Character Regulated Verse • Reply to a Friend”: “I would, because of this, dream of the vast expanse.”
Climbing Yueyang with Xiao Xiang Yan Ik Sang
Dongting’s autumn colors, fog in the Han River region,
Drizzling rain; a small boat—no one afloat.
Poets of successive dynasties sink into reverie,
Yueyang asks me: from where have I come?
2016.12.03