Classic Poem

Southeast the peacock flies,
and every five li it hesitates in flight.

“At thirteen I knew how to weave plain silk,
at fourteen I learned to cut clothes;
a fifteen I played the many-stringed lute,
at sixteen recited from the Songs and History .
At seventeen I became your wife,
but in my heart there was always sorrow and pain
You were a clerk in the government office,
I guarded my virtue and was never untrue
At cockcrow I began my work at the loom,
night after night never resting
In three days I turned out five measures of cloth,
but the Great One grumbled at my slowness
It's not that I'm so slow at weaving,
but it's hard to be a bride in your home.
The work is more than I can cope with—
what use in my staying any longer?
So I beg of your honored mother,
let her send me away at once!”

When the clerk heard this,
he ascended the hall, addressed his mother:
“Your son is blessed with little fortune,
but luckily I've found this wife
From the time we bound our hair, we've shared pillow and mat,
and we'll go together to the Yellow Springs.
But it's scarcely been two or three years,
no time at all since we married
There's nothing wrong in the woman's conduct—
why do you treat her so harshly?”

His mother said to the clerk,
“How can you be so foolish and doting!
This wife knows nothing of propriety,
her actions are selfish and willful
For a long time I've found her infuriating—
how dare you try to have your own way!
The family east of us have a virtuous daughter—
Qin Luofu is her name,
beautiful in form, no one to rival her—
your mother will arrange it for you
This other must be sent away at once
Send her off and don't dare detain her!”

The clerk, humbly kneeling, replied,
“I beg to say this to my mother,
if this wife of mine is sent away,
till death I will never have another!”
His mother, hearing this,
pounded on her chair in a fit of rage
“Little one, have you no caution?
How dare you speak up for your wife!
I've wasted kindness enough on her already—
you'll never have my permission for this!”
The clerk was silent, unspeaking;
he bowed once more, then returned to his room,
started to tell his wife what had happened
but sobs choked him till he couldn't speak
“I'm not the one who's sending you away—
my mother forces me to it
Just go home for a little while
I must report to my office,
but before long I will return
and then I will surely come and fetch you
Let these words of mine calm your fears,
take care and do not disobey them!”

The young wife said to the clerk,
“No more of this muddling talk!
Once in the past, in early spring,
I left my family, came to your noble gate,
did all I could to serve your honored mother—
when was I ever willful in my ways?
Day and night I kept at my duties,
though ache and exhaustion wrapped me around
I know of no fault or error of mine—
I strove only to repay the great debt I owe her
And now I'm being driven away—
how can you speak of my coming again?
I have an embroidered vest
so lovely it shines with a light of its own
I have double bed curtains of scarlet gauze
with scent bags hanging from each of the four corners
I have boxes and hampers, sixty or seventy,
tied with cords of green and turquoise and blue.
Each is a little different from the rest,
and in them are articles of all kinds
But if a person is lowly, her things too must be worthless—they would never do for the one who comes after
But I leave them so they may be used for gifts
From now on we won't be meeting again—
look at them sometimes if it should please you,
and over the long years, do not forget me!”

Cocks crowed, outside the dawn was breaking;
the wife rose, dressing herself with care,
put on her lined embroidered skirt,
going through each motion four or five times
On her feet she wore silken shoes,
On her head shone a tortoiseshell comb;
round her waist she wrapped some flowing white gauze,
in her ears fastened moon-bright pearls
Her fingers were slim as scallion roots,
her mouth as though lined with vermillion or cinnabar.
Lithely she walked, with delicate steps,
in loveliness unequaled in all the world
She ascended the hall, knelt before the mother;
the mother agreed to let her go, did nothing to stop her
in the past when I was a child,
being born and bred in the countryside,
I had no proper training or instruction,
and added to my disgrace by entering your noble family.
I've received from you numerous coins and bolts of cloth,
I have never succeeded in serving you well
today I go back to my old home,
though I fear my-departure may leave your household shorthanded.”
Then she went to take leave of her little sister-in-law,
tears falling like strands of pearls
Then I first came here as a bride,
I would barely stand up by holding to the bed,
Today when I'm being sent away,
Now you are fully as tall as me!
I tell her to take good care of your mother,
And look out for yourself as well
When the seventh and the twenty-ninth come round,
remember the games and good times we had together”
Then she went out the gate, mounted the carriage and left,
her tears falling in a hundred streams or more.

The clerk had ridden off on horseback,
the wife set out later by carriage;
bump-bump, rumble-rumble went the wheels,
when the two chanced to meet at the entrance to the highway.
The clerk dismounted, climbed into the carriage,
lowered his head and spoke into her ear,
“I swear I will never leave you—
only go home for a little while
I must be off to the government office
but before long I will be back
I swear to Heaven I won't be untrue!”

The young wife said to the clerk,
“I am grateful for your kind concern
If indeed you think so much of me,
I may hope you will come before long
You must be like the solid boulder,
I like a rush or a reed.
Rushes and reeds can be strong as well as pliant,
just so the boulder does not move
But I have a father and older brother
with tempers as violent as thunder
I doubt they will let me have my way—
just thinking of it makes my heart blanch!”
They lifted their hands in endless endearments,
two souls bound by a single longing.

Through the gate, into her house went the young wife,
not knowing how to face her family
Her mother slapped her palms together:
“I never expected this child to return!
At thirteen I taught you to weave,
at fourteen you knew how to cut clothes;
at fifteen you played the many-stringed lute,
at sixteen understood the rules of decorum.
At seventeen I sent you to be a bride,
thinking you would never betray your vows
But now, if you haven't committed some fault,
why have you come home unsummoned?”
Lanzhi was ashamed before her mother,
“Truly, I've done nothing wrong!”
and her mother felt great pity for her.

When she had been home ten days or so,
the magistrate sent his matchmaker:
“It concerns the magistrate's third son,
a handsomer young man nowhere in the world,
just turned eighteen or nineteen,
clever in speech, a boy of many talents—”
The mother said to her daughter,
“Here is a proposal worth answering!”
But her daughter, tear-choked, replied,
“When I came home this time,
the clerk pleaded with me again and again,
and we made a vow that we'd never part
Today if I went against those feelings,
I fear nothing lucky could come of it!
Let us break off these negotiations,
or say we need time to think it over slowly.”
The mother informed the matchmaker,
“This child of our poor and humble home
has just been sent back from her first marriage
It she wasn't fit to be the wife of a clerk,
how could she be suitable for a magistrate's son?
I beg you to make inquiries elsewhere—
we could never give our consent.”

A few days after the matchmaker left,
an aide came from the governor with a like request,
saying that Lanzhi's family
for generations had served as officials,
that the governor's fifth son,
a favorite child, was as yet unmarried,
that the aide had been sent as go-between,
had come with a secretary to open discussions
‘in the governor's family,’ he reported,
there's this fine young gentleman—
they wish to conclude a marriage alliance
and hence have sent me to your honored house.”
The mother apologized to the matchmaker:
“My daughter has given her word elsewhere—
what can an old woman like me say?”

When Lanzhi's older brother heard of this,
he was troubled and angry in heart
He went and said to his little sister,
“How thoughtless a way to plan things!
Formerly you were married to a clerk,
now you could marry this gentleman
Your lot would be as different as heaven from earth—
you could assure yourself of a brilliant future!
If you do not marry this fine gentleman,
how do you intend to get along?”
Lanzhi lifted her head and answered,
“What you say is quite reasonable, brother,
I left my family, went to serve a husband,
but midway came back to my brother's house
Your wishes should rule in this matter—
how could I hope to have my way?
Though the clerk and I made our promises,
I seem fated never to see him again.
Let us give our consent at once
and get on with the marriage arrangements.”

The matchmaker got down from his seat,
with “Yes, yes,” and then “Fine, fine!”
He returned and reported to the governor,
“Your servant has carried out his task—
the talks have ended in splendid agreement.”
When the governor heard this,
his heart was filled with delight.
He looked at the calendar, consulted his books,
decided that this month was just right.
“The six accords are right now in agreement,
the thirtieth is an auspicious day.
Today is already the twenty-seventh—
go again and arrange the wedding!”

Talks were held, preparations rushed,
unceasing bustle like streams of floating clouds
Green sparrow and white goose boats,
dragon pennants at their four corners
fluttering gracefully in the wind,
golden carriages with jade-trimmed wheels,
dapple-gray horses stepping slowly,
gold-threaded saddles with colored pompons,
a wedding gift of three million cash,
all the coins strung on green cords,
three hundred bolts of cloth in assorted hues,
rare seafoods purchased in Jiao and Guang,
attendants, four or five hundred,
all setting out in droves from the governor's gate
The mother said to her daughter,
“You have received the governor's letter.
Tomorrow they will come to fetch you—
why aren't you making the clothes you'll need?
Don't go and spoil things now!”
The daughter was silent, unspeaking,
her handkerchief muffling her sobs,
her tears coming down in cascades.
She moved her crystal-studded couch,
placed it in front of the window,
in her left hand took her knife and ruler,
in her right hand held her satins and gauzes.
By morning she had finished her lined embroidered skirt,
by evening she had finished her unlined gauze jacket,
and as the day wore away and darkness fell,
with somber thoughts she went out the gate weeping.

When the clerk heard of this change in matters,
he asked leave to go home for a while,
and when he was still two or three li away,
his weary horse began to neigh sadly
The young wife recognized the horse's neigh,
stepped into her shoes, went out in greeting,
peering into the distance anxiously,
and then she knew that her husband had come
Raising her hand, she beat on the saddle,
with sobs that tore at her heart.
“Since I took leave of you,
unimaginable things have happened!
I can no longer be true to my former promise,
though I doubt you will understand why
I have my parents to think of,
and my brother has pressed me as well,
making me promise myself to another man—
how could I be sure you would return?”
The clerk said to his wife,
“I compliment you on your rise in the world!
The boulder is square and solid—
it can last for a thousand years.
But the rush or the reed—its moment of strength
lasts no longer than dawn to dusk!
You will grow mightier, more exalted daily—
I will go alone to the Yellow Springs.”

The young wife said to the clerk,
“What do you mean by such words!
Both of us were forced against our will,
you were, and so was I!
In the Yellow Springs we will meet again—
no betraying the words I speak today!”
They clasped hands, then went their separate ways,
each returning to his own family.
Still alive, they were parted as though by death,
with grief and regret beyond describing,
thinking now to take their leave of the world,
knowing that their lives could last no longer.

The clerk returned to his home,
ascended the hall, bowed to his mother:
“Today the winds blow fierce and cold,
the cold winds break the tree limbs,
and harsh frost collects on the orchids in the garden.
Your son today goes into darkness,
leaving you behind all alone
I do this bad thing of my own will—
do not rail at the gods or spirits.
May your years be like the rock on the southern mountain,
your four limbs sturdy and straight.”
When his mother heard this,
her tears fell in time to her words:
“You are the son of a great family
who have served in high government office.
Don't be foolish and die for this woman,
when she is so far beneath you!
The family to the east have a virtuous daughter,
her beauty the boast of the whole city.
Your mother will arrange for you to have her,
it will be done in the space of a day!”
The clerk bowed once more and withdrew,
in his empty bedroom sighed unendingly,
then made his plan, determined to see it through,
turned his head, looked toward the door,
grief pressing in on him more cruelly than ever.

That day the cattle lowed, the horses neighed,
when the bride entered the green enclosure
And after the darkness of evening had come,
when all was still and people had settled down,
she said, “My life will end today,
my soul take leave, my body remaining.”
She lifted her skirt, stepped out of her silken shoes,
and threw herself into the clear pond
When the clerk heard of this,
The knew in his heart they must part forever.
He circled the tree in the garden,
then hanged himself from the southeast limb.

The two families agreed to bury them together,
to bury them by the side of Flower Mountain.
To east and west they planted pine and cypress,
left and right set out parasol trees.
The branches came together to make a canopy,
leaf entwined about leaf.
And in their midst a pair of flying birds,
the kind called mandarin ducks,
raised their heads and cried to each other
night after night till the hour of dawn.
Travelers halted their steps to listen,
widows got up and paced the room.
And this I say to you of later ages:
take warning and never forget this tale!