{"id":3461,"date":"2024-12-03T20:25:55","date_gmt":"2024-12-03T20:25:55","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/?p=3461"},"modified":"2025-01-24T19:20:18","modified_gmt":"2025-01-24T19:20:18","slug":"poesia-xinesa-dinastia-tang","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/poesia-xinesa-dinastia-tang\/","title":{"rendered":"Poesia xinesa. Dinastia Tang"},"content":{"rendered":"

Literatura xinesa<\/a>\u00a0 Tang<\/a><\/p>\n

\n

Xina Tang 618-960<\/h2>\n

2HAX1<\/a><\/p>\n

\n

Zhang Jiuling\u00a0678-740<\/h2>\n

A\u00d1ORANDO, BAJO LA LUNA, A MI LEJANA AMADA<\/strong><\/p>\n

Sobre el pi\u00e9lago se eleva
\nla luna con resplandor.
\nLa contemplamos t\u00fa y yo
\ndesde dos extremos del pa\u00eds.
\nMelanc\u00f3lico, lamento
\nque la noche sea larga,
\ny te a\u00f1oro apasionado.
\nApago el candil:
\nme encanta la luz de la luna.
\nMe cubro con la capa y salgo.
\nLa siento mojada con el roc\u00edo.
\nMe aflige no poder recoger
\nun pu\u00f1ado de luz y ofrec\u00e9rtelo.
\nRegreso y me tiendo en el lecho.
\nOjal\u00e1 te vea en el sue\u00f1o.<\/p>\n

\n

Meng Haoran 689-740<\/h2>\n

MAT\u00cd DE PRIMAVERA<\/strong><\/p>\n

Dormo i no m’adono de l’alba
\nfins que sento la conversa dels ocells.
\nAnit els embats del vent i de la pluja.
\nQui sap quantes flors deuen haver caigut.<\/p>\n

\n

Wang Wei<\/a> 699-759<\/p>\n

Li Bai<\/a> 701-762<\/p>\n

Du Fu<\/a> 712-770<\/p>\n

\n

Liu Zongyuan 733-819<\/h2>\n

\u00a0River Snow<\/strong><\/p>\n

A thousand mountains. Flying birds vanish.
\nTen thousand paths. Human traces erased.
\nOne boat, bamboo hat, bark cape -an old man
\nalone, angling in the cold river. Snow.<\/p>\n

\n

Liu CHangQing 725-786<\/h2>\n

VISITA AL TAO\u00cdSTA CHANG, EN EL ARROYO NANQI<\/strong><\/p>\n

A tu caba\u00f1a me lleva la senda
\ncon musgo de frescas huellas.
\nNubes blancas cuelgan
\nsobre la silenciosa duna.
\nFragantes hierbas ocultan
\ntu puerta entreabierta.
\nPasada la lluvia,
\nlos pinos lucen m\u00e1s verdes.
\nVagando entre los cerros,
\nllego al nacimiento de un arroyuelo.
\nMeditaci\u00f3n, flores, aguas.
\nNos vemos. \u00bfQu\u00e9 te iba a decir?
\nYa no me acuerdo. Ni hace falta.<\/p>\n

\n

Bai Juji<\/a> 772-846<\/p>\n

\n

Yuan Zhen 779-831<\/h2>\n

Late Spring<\/strong><\/p>\n

Calm day through the thin curtain, swallows talking fast.
\nPairs of fighting sparrows kick up dust on the steps.
\nWind at dusk, a brushwood gate swings shut.
\nFlowers drop their last petals. No one notices.<\/p>\n

\n

Han Shan finals s7<\/h2>\n

210<\/h2>\n

Talking about food won’t fill your stomach.
\nTalk about clothing won’t keep out cold.
\nTo be full, eat rice.
\nTo stay warm, wear clothes.
\nThose who don’t understand
\ncomplain it’s hard to get help from Buddha.
\nLook inside your heart. That’s where Buddha is.
\nDon’t look for him outside.<\/p>\n

237<\/p>\n

This life is lost in dust.
\nLike bugs in a bowl
\nwe all day circle, circle
\nunable to get out.
\nWe’re nothing like immortals.
\nOur sorrows never end,
\nyears and months flow off like water
\nand in an instant we’re old men.<\/p>\n

262<\/p>\n

In this world people live then die.
\nYesterday morning I was sixteen,
\nhealthy with a strong life force.
\nNow I’m over seventy,
\nstrength gone, body withered.
\nA flower in spring
\nblossoms at dawn. At night it dies.<\/p>\n

\n

Sikong Tu 837-908<\/h2>\n

Twenty-four Styles of Poetry<\/h3>\n

The Placid Style<\/strong><\/p>\n

Dwell plainly in calm silence,
\na delicate heart sensitive to small things.
\nDrink from the harmony of yin and yang,
\nwing off with a solitary crane,<\/p>\n

and like a soft breeze
\ntrembling in your gown,
\na rustle of slender bamboo,
\nits beauty will stay with you.<\/p>\n

You meet it by not trying deeply.
\nIt thins to nothing if you approach,
\nand even when its shape seems near
\nit will turn all wrong inside your hand.<\/p>\n

The Potent Style<\/strong><\/p>\n

Green woods, a wild hut.
\nSetting sun in the transparent air.
\nI take off my head cloth, walk alone,
\noften hearing the calls of birds.<\/p>\n

No flying swan brings me messages
\nfrom my friend traveling so far.
\nYet the one I miss isn’t far.
\nIn my heart we are together.<\/p>\n

Ocean wind through emerald clouds.
\nNight islets and the moon, bright.
\nAfter one good line, stop.
\nA great river spreads across your path.<\/p>\n

[These last lines suggest the dangers of saying too much, of overwriting, If you go on too long, Sikong Tu warns, you walk right out of the style, whereas a good line stops you like a great river, and echoes profoundly inside of you This effect can be described by two lines from Tang poetry: “The song is over, the musician gone, \/ but the river and green mountains keep singing.]<\/p>\n

The Implicit Style<\/strong><\/p>\n

Without a single word
\nthe essence is conveyed.
\nWithout speaking of misery
\na passionate sadness comes through.<\/p>\n

It’s true, someone hidden controls the world;
\nwith that being you sink or float.
\nThis style’s like straining full-bodied wine
\nor like a flower near bloom retreating into bud.<\/p>\n

It is dust in timeless open space,
\nis flowing, foaming sea spume,
\nshallow or deep, cohering, dispersing.
\nOne out of a thousand contains all thousand.<\/p>\n

The Carefree and Wild Style<\/strong><\/p>\n

Abide by your nature,
\nhonestly and unrestrained.
\nWhatever you pick up makes you rich
\nwhen candor is your friend.<\/p>\n

Build your hut below a pine,
\ntoss off your hat and read a poem.
\nYou know if it’s morning or evening
\nbut have no idea what dynasty it is.<\/p>\n

Do what fits your whim.
\nWhy bother to achieve?
\nIf you free your nature
\nyou’ll have this style.<\/p>\n

\n

Li Xang ling sIX<\/h2>\n

EN LLEVAR-SE<\/strong><\/p>\n

El vent i la rosada s\u00f3n lleus aquest mat\u00ed.
\nSola, em llevo entremig de la seda lleugera.
\nL’oriol prou refila, riuen flors al cam\u00ed:
\nah, per a qui ha vingut, enguany, la Primavera?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Literatura xinesa\u00a0 Tang Xina Tang 618-960 2HAX1 Zhang Jiuling\u00a0678-740 A\u00d1ORANDO, BAJO LA LUNA, A MI LEJANA AMADA Sobre el pi\u00e9lago se eleva la luna con resplandor. La contemplamos t\u00fa y yo desde dos extremos del pa\u00eds. Melanc\u00f3lico, lamento que la noche sea larga, y te a\u00f1oro apasionado. Apago el candil: me encanta la luz de … <\/p>\n

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