78

The “Slowly, Slowly” Poem

Playfully inscribed on the wall

Yüan Hung-tao (1568–1610)

 

The bright moon slowly, slowly rises,

the green mountains slowly, slowly descend.

The flowering branches slowly, slowly redden,

4      the spring colors slowly, slowly fade.

My salary slowly, slowly increases,

my teeth slowly, slowly fall out,

my lover’s waist slowly, slowly expands,

8     my complexion slowly, slowly ages.

We are low in society

in the days of our greatest health,

our pleasure comes when we are no longer young.

The Goddess of Good Luck

and the Dark Lady of Bad Luck

12   are with us every step we take.

Even heaven and earth are imperfect

and human society is full of ups and downs.

Where do we look for real happiness?

16   —Bow humbly, and ask

the Masters of Taoist Arts.

Translated by Jonathan Chaves

On Receiving My Letter of Termination

Yüan Hung-tao

The time has come to devote myself to my hiker’s stick:

I must have been a Buddhist monk in a former life!

Sick, I see returning home as a kind of pardon.

A stranger here—being fired is like being promoted.

In my cup, thick wine; I get crazy-drunk,

eat my fill, then stagger up the green mountain.

The southern sect, the northern sect, I’ve tried them all:

this hermit has his own school of Zen philosophy.

Translated by Jonathan Chaves

 

Yüan Hung-tao was the leader of the late Ming Kung-an School of literature, so named for the subprefecture in Hupei province where he was born. Tsung-tao (1560–1600) and Chung-tao (1570–1624), his elder and younger brothers, were also important members of this influential literary circle. Known as an individualist, Yüan is a highly eccentric figure within the context of Ming literature. But his eccentricity falls well within the parameters of Chinese tradition and can even be seen as weighing the balance back toward moderation after decades of domination of the cultural scene by the extreme archaism of the orthodox masters.