CHINESE POET TAO QIAN (365-427 C.E.)

Often considered the greatest Chinese poet of the 5th and 6th centuries

 

Please be sure to read the following short biography of Tao Qian before beginning your study.

 

Biography of Tao Qian

 

Tao Qian ( T'ao Ch'ien, 365–427), better known as Tao Yuanming ,was a Chinese poet. Born in modern Jiujiang, Jiangxi, he was one of the most influential pre-Tang Dynasty (618-907) Chinese poets. 

He came from a notable family which had descended into poverty; when young, he was torn between ambition and a desire to retreat into solitude. His great-grandfather was the famous Eastern Jin general and governor, Tao Kan. He served in a series of minor posts, but his sister's death, as well as disgust at the corruption and infighting of the Jin Court prompted his resignation, convincing him that life was too short to compromise on his principles; as he put it himself, he would not "bow like a servant in return for five bushels of grain" ("
為五斗米折腰" has entered common usage to mean "swallowing one's pride in exchange for a meager existence". 'Five bushels of grain' refers to the salary of a low-ranking official). He lived in retirement for his last 22 years. 

Approximately 130 of his works survive. Most of them were poems or essays, which depict an idyllic pastoral life of farming and drinking; because of this he would later be termed the "Poet of the Fields". While his poems were not influential in his time, they would later be a major influence on the poetry of the Tang and Song Dynasties. Du Fu, his great admirer, wrote in his poem Oh, Such a Shame which describes his own life in the countryside: 

Only by wine one's heart is lit, / only a poem calms a soul that's torn. / You'd understand me, Tao Qian. / I wish a little sooner I was born! 

Apart from his poems, Tao is perhaps best known today for his short but intriguing depiction (in prose) of a land hidden from the outside world called "Peach Blossom Spring" (
桃花源記). The name Peach Blossom Spring (桃花源 Tao Hua Yuan) has since become the standard Chinese term for 'utopia'.

Biography courtesy of PoemHunter.com at http://www.poemhunter.com/tao-chien/biography/

 

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Read the brief Tao Qian story below to see why “Peach Blossom Spring” is even today the Chinese term for “utopia.”

The translator provides notes at the end of the story that correspond to the numbers found in the reading.

Peach Blossom Spring by Tao Qian

During the Taiyuan era [2] of the Jin Dynasty [3] there was a man of Wuling [4] who made his living as a fisherman. Once while following a stream he forgot how far he had gone. He suddenly came to a grove of blossoming peach trees. It lined both banks for several hundred paces and included not a single other kind of tree. Petals of the dazzling and fragrant blossoms were falling everywhere in profusion. Thinking this place highly unusual, the fisherman advanced once again in wanting to see how far it went.

The peach trees stopped at the stream's source, where the fisherman came to a mountain with a small opening through which it seemed he could see light. Leaving his boat, he entered the opening. At first it was so narrow that he could barely pass, but after advancing a short distance it suddenly opened up to reveal a broad, flat area with imposing houses, good fields, beautiful ponds, mulberry trees, bamboo, and the like. The fisherman saw paths extending among the fields in all directions, and could hear the sounds of chickens and dogs. Men and women working in the fields all wore clothing that looked like that of foreign lands. The elderly and children all seemed to be happy and enjoying themselves.

The people were amazed to see the fisherman, and they asked him from where he had come. He told them in detail, then the people invited him to their home, set out wine, butchered a chicken [5], and prepared a meal. Other villagers heard about the fisherman, and they all came to ask him questions. Then the villagers told him, "To avoid the chaos of war during the Qin Dynasty [6], our ancestors brought their families and villagers to this isolated place and never left it, so we've had no contact with the outside world." They asked the fisherman what the present reign was. They were not even aware of the Han Dynasty [7], let alone the Wei [8] and Jin. The fisherman told them everything he knew in great detail, and the villagers were amazed and heaved sighs. Then other villagers also invited the fisherman to their homes, where they gave him food and drink. After several days there, the fisherman bid farewell, at which time some villagers told him, "It's not worth telling people on the outside about us." [9]

The fisherman exited through the opening, found his boat, and retraced his route while leaving markers to find this place again. Upon his arrival at the prefecture town he went to the prefect and told him what had happened. The prefect immediately sent a person to follow the fisherman and look for the trail markers, but they got lost and never found the way.

Liu Ziji [10] of Nanyang [11] was a person of noble character. When he heard this story he was happy and planned to visit there, but he died of illness before he could accomplish it. After that no one else ever looked for the place.

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Translator's Notes

[1] Chinese nature poet, c. 365-427. This prose story is one of the poet's most well-known works.

[2] 376-396.

[3] 265-420 (actually two sequential dynasties, the "Western" and the "Eastern").

[4] A place in present-day Hunan Province.

[5] "…set out wine, butchered a chicken": A stock phrase meaning to entertain a guest lavishly.

[6] 221-206 B.C.

[7] 206 B.C. to A.D. 220.

[8] A.D. 220-265.

[9] The villagers would just as soon keep their existence secret.

[10] A retired scholar of the Jin Dynasty.

[11] A place in present-day Henan Province.

This translation is based on the SiKuQuanShu text with editorial emendations and punctuation by the translators. It was done by Rick Davis (Japan) with help from David Steelman (Taiwan).

The original Chinese:

桃花源

陶淵

晉太元中武陵人捕魚為業。緣溪行﹐忘路之遠近。忽逢 桃花林﹐夾岸數百步中無雜樹﹐芳華鮮美落英繽紛。漁 人甚異之。復前行欲窮其林。林盡水源便得一山。山有 小口仿佛若有光。便捨船從口入。初極狹纔通人。復行 數十步豁然開朗。土地平礦屋舍儼然。有良田美池桑竹 之屬。阡陌交通雞犬相聞。其中往來種作。男女衣著悉 如外人。黃髮垂髫並怡然自樂。見漁人乃大驚問所從來 具答之。便要還家為設酒殺雞作食。村中聞有此人咸來 問訊。自云先世避秦時亂率妻子邑人。來此絕境不復出 焉。遂與外人間隔。問今是何世乃不知有漢無論魏晉 此人一一為具言所聞皆歎惋。餘人各復延至其家皆出酒 食。停數日辭去。此中人語云不足為外人道也。既出得 其船便扶向路處處誌之。及郡下詣太守說如此。太守即 遣人隨其往。尋向所誌遂迷不復得路。南陽劉子驥高尚 士也。聞之欣然規往未果尋病終。後遂無問津者

 

Courtesy of Project Gutenberg at http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/2090/pg2090.html

 

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Please be sure to have read Tao Qian’s biography above before continuing.

 

"The Return"

I was poor, and what I got from farming was not enough to support my family. The house was full of children, the rice-jar was empty, and I could not see any way to supply the necessities of life. Friends and relatives kept urging me to become a magistrate, and I had at last come to think I should do it, but there was no way for me to get such a position. At the time I happened to have business abroad and made a good impression on the grandees as a conciliatory and humane sort of person. Because of my poverty an uncle offered me a job in a small town, but the region was still unquiet and I trembled at the thought of going away from home. However, Pengze was only thirty miles from my native place, and the yield of the fields assigned the magistrate was sufficient to keep me in wine, so I applied for the office. Before many days had passed, I longed to give it up and go back home. Why, you may ask. Because my instinct is all for freedom, and will not brook discipline or restraint. Hunger and cold may be sharp, but this going against myself really sickens me. Whenever I have been involved in official life I was mortgaging myself to my mouth and belly, and the realization of this greatly upset me. I was deeply ashamed that I had so compromised my principles, but I was still going to wait out the year, after which I might pack up my clothes and slip away at night. Then my sister who had married into the Cheng family died in Wuchang, and my only desire was to go there was quickly as possible. I gave up my office and left of my own accord. From mid-autumn to winter I was altogether some eighty days in office, when events made it possible for me to do what I wished.

 

To get out of this and go back home!

My fields and garden will be overgrown with weeds--I must go back.

It was my own doing that made my mind my body's slave

Why should I go on in melancholy and lonely grief?

I realize that there's no remedying the past

But I know that there's hope in the future.

After all I have not gone far on the wrong road

And I am aware that what I do today is right, yesterday wrong.

My boat rocks in the gentle breeze

Flap, flap, the wind blows my gown;

I ask a passer-by about the road ahead,

Grudging the dimness of the light at dawn.

Then I catch sight of my cottage--

Filled with joy I run.

The servant boy comes to welcome me

My little son waits at the door.

The three paths are almost obliterated

But pines and chrysanthemums are still here.

Leading the children by the hand I enter my house

Where there is a bottle filled with wine.

I draw the bottle to me and pour myself a cup;

Seeing the trees in the courtyard brings joy to my face.

I lean on the south window and let my pride expand,

I consider how easy it is to be content with a little space.

Every day I stroll in the garden for pleasure,

There is a gate there, but it is always shut.

Cane in hand I walk and rest

Occasionally raising my head to gaze into the distance.

The clouds aimlessly rise from the peaks,

The birds, weary of flying, know it is time to come home.

As the sun's rays grow dim and disappear from view

I walk around a lonely pine tree, stroking it.

 

Back home again!

My friendships be broken off and my wandering come to an end.

The world and I shall have nothing more to do with one another.

If I were again to go abroad, what should I seek?

Here I enjoy honest conversation with my family

And take pleasure in books and cither to dispel my worries.

The farmers tell me that now spring is here

There will be work to do in the west fields.

Sometimes I call for a covered cart

Sometimes I row a lonely boat

Following a deep gully through the still water

Or crossing the hill on a rugged path.

The trees put forth luxuriant foliage,

The spring begins to flow in a trickle.

I admire the seasonableness of nature

And am moved to think that my life will come to its close.

It is all over--

So little time are we granted human form in the world!

Let us then follow the inclinations of the heart:

Where would we go that we are so agitated?

I have no desire for riches

And no expectation of Heaven.

Rather on some fine morning to walk alone

Now planting my staff to take up a hoe,

Or climbing the east hill and whistling long

Or composing verses beside the clear stream:

So I manage to accept my lot until the ultimate homecoming.

Rejoicing in Heaven's command, what is there to doubt?

 

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"Returning to the Farm to Dwell" 

I

 From early days I have been at odds with world;

My instinctive love is hills and mountains.

By mischance I fell into the dusty net

And was thirteen years away from home.

The migrant bird longs for its native grove.

The fish in the pond recalls the former depths.

Now I have cleared some land to the south of town,

Simplicity intact, I have returned to farm.

The land I own amounts to a couple of acres

The thatched-roof house has four or five rooms.

Elms and willows shade the eaves in back,

Peach and plum stretch out before the hall.

Distant villages are lost in haze,

Above the houses smoke hangs in the air.

A dog is barking somewhere in the hidden lane,

A cock crow from the top of a mulberry tree.

My home remains unsoiled by worldly dust

Within bare rooms I have my peach of mind.

For long I was a prisoner in a cage

And now I have my freedom back again.

 

II.

 

Here in the country human contacts are few

On this narrow lane carriages seldom come.

In broad daylight I keep my rustic gate closed,

From the bare rooms all dusty thoughts are banned.

From time to time through the tall grass

Like me, village farmers come and go;

When we meet we talk of nothing else

Than how the hemp and mulberry are growing.

Hemp and mulberry grow longer every day

Every day the fields I have plowed are wider;

My constant worry is that frost may come

And my crops will wither with the weeds.

 

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I

Substance to Shadow

 

Earth and heaven endure forever,
Streams and mountains never change.
Plants observe a constant rhythm,
Withered by frost, by dew restored.
But man, most sentient being of all,
In this is not their equal.
He is present here in the world today,
Then leaves abruptly, to return no more.
No one marks there’s one man less-
Not even friends and family think of him;
The things that he once used are all that’s left
To catch their eye and move them to grief.
I have no way to transcend change,
That it must be, I no longer doubt.
I hope you will take my advice:
When wine is offered, don’t refuse.

 

II

Shadow to Substance

 

Shadow to Substance
No use discussing immortality
When just to keep alive is hard enough.
Of course I want to roam in paradise,
But it’s a long way there and the road is lost.
In all the time since I met up with you
We never differed in our grief and joy.
In shade we may have parted for a time,
But sunshine always brings us close again.
Still this union cannot last forever-
Together we will vanish into darkness.
The body goes; that fame should also end
Is a thought that makes me burn inside.
Do good, and your love will outlive you;
Surely this is worth your every effort.
While it is true, wine may dissolve care
That is not so good a way as this.

 

 

III

 

Spirit’s Solution


The Great Potter cannot intervene-
All creation thrives of itself.
That Man ranks with Earth and Heaven
Is it not because of me?
Though we belong to different orders,
Being alive, I am joined to you.
Bound together for good or ill
I cannot refuse to tell you what I know:
The Three August Ones were great saints
But where are they living today?
Though P’eng-tsu lasted a long time
He still had to go before he was ready.
Die old or die young, the death is the same,
Wise or stupid, there is no difference.
Drunk every day you may forget,
But won’t it shorten your life span?
Doing good is always a joyous thing
But no one has to praise you for it.
Too much thinking harms my life;
Just surrender to the cycle of things,
Give yourself to the waves of the Great Change
Neither happy nor yet afraid.
And when it is time to go, then simply go without any unnecessary fuss.

 

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