Journey To The West Chapter 10-Part 2

2017-04-04

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Chapter 10


On an autumn day I carry my axe along the greeny path Bringing the load back in the cool of evening,

Putting wild flowers in my hair, just to be different, I push aside the clouds to find my way home,

And the moon is up when I tell them to open the door. Rustic wife and innocent son greet me with smiles, And I recline on my bed of grass and wooden pillow. Steamed millet and pear are spread before me,

While the new wine is warm in the pot: This is really civilized."

"All this is about our living and the ways we provide for ourselves," said the fisherman. "I can prove to you that your leisure is nowhere near as good as mine with a poem that goes:

Idly I watch the white cranes as they cross the sky;

As I Moor the boat at the river's bank, a blue door gives me shade. Leaning on the sail I teach my son to twist a fishing line,

When rowing's done I dry the nets out with my wife.

A settled nature can really know the calm of the waves; A still body feels the lightness of the breeze.

Always to wear a green straw cape and a blue straw hat

Is better than the purple robes of the court."

"Your leisure doesn't come up to mine," replied the woodcutter, "as this poem I shall now recite demonstrates:

With a lazy eye on the white clouds in the distance,

I sit alone in a thatched but, then close the bamboo door. When there's nothing to do I teach my son to read; Sometimes a visitor comes and we play a game of chess.

When I'm happy I take my stick and walk singing along the paths, Or carry my lute up the emerald hills.

Grass shoes with hempen thongs, a cloak of coarsest cloth, A mind relaxed: better than wearing silk."

"Li Ding," said the other, "how truly it can be said of us that 'by reciting some verses we become close friends: What need for golden winecups and a sandalwood table?' But there is nothing remarkable in just reciting verses; what would you say if we made couplets in which we each contributed a line about our lives as fisherman and woodcutter?"

"Brother Zhang," said Li Ding, "that is an excellent suggestion. Please be the one to start." Here are their couplets:

My boat is moored in the green waters amid the misty waves; My home is in the wilds, deep in the mountains.

How well I like the swollen stream under the bridge in spring; My delight is a mountain peak swathed in clouds at dawn.

Dragon−sized fresh carp cooked at any time; Dry, rotten, firewood always keeps one warm.

A full array of hooks and nets to support my old age; Carrying wood and making twine will keep me till I die.

Lying back in a tiny boat watching the flying geese;

Reclining beside the grassy path and hearing the wild swans call. I have no stall in the marketplace of tongues;

I've left no trace in the sea of disputation.

The nets hung to dry beside the brook are like brocade; An axe well honed on rock is sharper than a spear.

Under the shining autumn moon I often fish alone; I meet nobody on the solitary mountain in spring.

I trade my surplus fish for wine and drink it with my wife;

When I've wood to spare I buy a bottle and share it with my sons. Singing and musing to myself I'm as wild as I care to be;

Long songs, long sighs, I can let myself be crazy.

I invite my brothers and cousins and fellow boatmen;

Leading my friends by the hand I meet the old man of the wilds. As we play guess−fingers the cups fly fast;

When we make riddles the goblets slowly circulate. Saute or boiled crab is a delight every morning;

Plenty of fried duck and chicken cooked in ashes every day. As my simple wife brews tea, my spirits are untrammelled; While my mountain spouse cooks supper, my mind is at ease. At the coming of dawn I wash my stick in the ripples;

When the sun rises I carry firewood across the road. After the rain I put on my cloak to catch live carp;

I wield my axe before the wind to fell a withered pine.

I cover my tracks and hide from the world, acting the imbecile; I change my name and pretend to be deaf and dumb.

"Brother Li," said Zhang Shao. "I unfairly took the first lines just now, so now it's your turn to compose the first lines while I follow you." Thus they continued:

The man of the mountains acting mad under wind and moon; The haughty and unwanted dotard of the river.

With his share of idleness, and able to be quite free; No sound from his voice as he revels in his peace.

On moonlit nights he sleeps secure in a cottage of thatch; He lightly covers himself at dusk with clothes of reed.

His passion spent, he befriends the pine and the plum; He is happy to be the companion of cormorant and gull. Fame and profit count for nothing in his mind;

His ears have never heard the clash of arms. One is always pouring out fresh rice−wine,

The other has wild vegetable soup with every meal. One makes a living with two bundles of firewood; The other supports himself with rod and line.

One idly tells his innocent son to sharpen the axe of steel; The other quietly bids his slow−witted child to mend the nets. In spring one likes to see the willows turning green;

When the seasons change the other enjoys the rushes' blue. Avoiding the summer heat, one trims the new bamboo; The other gathers water−chestnuts on cool July evenings. When frost begins, plump chickens are killed each day;

In mid−autumn the crabs are at their best and always in the pot.

When the sun rises in winter, the one is still asleep; The other keeps cool in the dog days of summer.

Throughout the year one does as he pleases in the hills; In all four seasons the other is happy on the lake.

By gathering firewood you can become an Immortal; There is nothing worldly about fishing.

Sweet smell the wild flowers growing outside my door; Smooth are the green waves lapping at my boat.

A contented man never speaks of high honors; A settled nature is stronger than a city wall.

Higher than a city wall for resisting enemy armies;

More illustrious than holding high office and listening to imperial decrees. Those who are happy with mountains and rivers are few indeed;

Thank Heaven, thank Earth, and thank the spirits.

When the two of them had recited their verses and matched couplets they came to the place where their ways parted and bowed to each other to take their leave. "Brother Li," said Zhang Shao, "look after yourself on your way home and keep a sharp look−out for tigers up in the hills. If you met with an accident then 'an old friend would be missing on the road tomorrow.'" This made Li Ding angry.

"You scoundrel," he said, "I'm your friend; I'd die for you. How could you put such a curse on me? If I'm killed by a tiger, you'll be capsized by a wave."

"I'll never be capsized!" retorted Zhang Shao.

"'In nature there are unexpected storms and in life unpredictable vicissitudes,'" quoted Li Ding, "so how can you be sure you'll never have an accident?"

"Brother Zhang," replied the fisherman, "despite what you just said, it's your life that's insecure, whereas my life is certain: I'm sure that I shan't have an accident."

"Your life on the water is very dangerous and insecure," said the woodcutter, "so how can you be so certain?"

"There's something you don't know," said Zhang Shao. "Every day I give a golden carp to a fortune−teller on the West Gate Street in Chang'an, and he passes a slip into my sleeve telling me I'll catch something every time provided I go to the right place. I went to buy a forecast from him today, and he told me that if I cast   my

nets to the East of the bend in the Jing River and lowered my lines on the Western bank, I would be bound to get a full load of fish and shrimps to take home. Tomorrow I shall go into town to sell them to buy wine, and we can continue our talk then, brother." With this they parted.


To be continue......(136)