The Enlightenment of the Illusory Flowers
A surprisingly vivid and stark poem
The Enlightenment of the Illusory Flowers
This is easily my favorite of all the poems we’ve read so far. The imagery here is stark and vibrant, and the overall flavor of the poem is actually quite subtle.
My Translation
The Enlightenment of the Illusory Flowers
As she sees through the splendor of the three springs,
She wonders what use the reds and greens of spring are.
As she extinguish her own youthful beauty,
She seeks the harmony of the universe.
Why brag about the heavenly peach trees blossoming,
Or about the almond buds rising up to the clouds?
In the end, who will be able to survive the autumn?
Look at how the people in the white poplar villages weep,
And how the ghosts moan among the green maple trees,
And how the endless withered grass shrouds the tombs.
Indeed, poor yesterday and rich today, the people strive and toil in vain.
Blooming in the spring and fading in the autumn, the flowers are tortured.
Who can escape this inescapable cycle of existence?
She has heard that the precious Bodhi Tree grows in the Western Paradise,
Which bears the fruit of immortality.
Translation Critique
Hawkes
David Hawkes translates the title, 虛花悟, as The Vanity of Spring. It’s not a particularly good translation, in my opinion. 虛花 means something like “the vain flowers” or “the flowers of illusion,” and 悟 means “enlightenment.”
Hawkes uses the word “hymeneal” to describe the “peach-blooms in the sky.” Hymeneal means pertaining to marriage or pertaining to sexual relations – or, if you want to be gross about it, pertaining to the hymen. I think Hawkes was really reading too much into the image here: in fact, I’d argue that this is another example of how Hawkes’ translation is inherently misogynistic.
Hawkes claims that the subject of the poem knows that immortality comes from the tree “in Paradise.” However, this is a mistranslation of the original. The original says 聞說, or “I’ve heard.” It’s far from a testimony or a Crēdō in the old Latin sense (i.e. Crēdō in ūnum Deum from the old Latin version of the Mass). I’m convinced that Hawkes knew his translation was off – and I think his interpolation is another sign of him interpreting into the text rather than actually translating it.
Yang
The Yangs have an interesting translation of 把這韶華打滅，覓那清淡天和:
Stamping out the fire of youthful splendour
To savour the limpid peace of a clear sky.
I think they see this line the same way that I do: that the subject of this poem is describing how she stamps out her own spring-like brilliance in favor of a life devoted to religion.
The Yangs translate 婆娑 as “the sal tree,” which is a direct reference to Buddhism.
Chinese Text
虛花悟
將那三春看破，桃紅柳綠待如何？把這韶華打滅，覓那清淡天和。說什麼天上夭桃盛，雲中杏蕊多？到頭來，誰見把秋捱過？則看那白楊村裡人嗚咽，青楓林下鬼吟哦，更兼著連天衰草遮墳墓。這的是昨貧今富人勞碌，春榮秋謝花折磨。似這般生關死劫誰能躲？聞說道西方寶樹喚婆娑，上結著長生果。
Translation Notes
三春 here is clearly a reference to three of the four Jia girls, each of whom has the word 春 (spring) in her name. These are 元春 (Yuanchun), 迎春 (Yingchun), 探春 (Tanchun), and 惜春 (Xichun).
看破 means to see through or to see clearly. I’ve added the word “splendor” to give the author something to see through.
桃紅柳綠 means the red of peach blossoms (桃) and the green of willow leaves (柳). It’s also a set poetic phrase that usually refers to the vibrant beauty of spring. It also represents the height of worldly allure and sensory pleasure. In other words, once the author sees through the glory of the “three springs,” or three of the four Jia girls, the author then cannot see what the worth of the (ultimately worldly) beauty of spring is.
韶華 means spring scenery (see the pattern?), as well as the prime of life.
把這韶華打滅 (extinguish the beauty of youth, or the beauty of the spring scenery, depending on your interpretation) could refer either to the subject of this poem extinguishing her own beauty, or that of her three sisters (三春). By this point it is obvious that it refers to one of the four Jia sisters, though it won’t be clear which one it’s talking about for a number of chapters. My interpretation is that she sees what happens to her sisters, decides that she does not want to follow that course in life, and therefore decides to extinguish her own brilliant spring. Think of it like Elsa in Frozen deciding to hide her talents away permanently for fear of upsetting the world around her. The subject of this poem deliberately decides to extinguish her own brilliance and glory in the name of heavenly peace.
天和 refers to the natural and harmonious order ot he universe, and is a concept from Chinese philosophy. It’s written in contrast here to 韶華 (the prime of life, youth, or just spring scenery). Notice that 天和 is described as 清淡, or as delicate and weak, which is in direct contrast to 桃紅柳綠, or the vibrant colors of spring.
夭桃 means lush peach blossoms, and 杏蕊 means apricot buds, or apricot flowers. 夭桃 comes from a famous poem in the Classic of Poetry (詩經) with a line that states:
桃之夭夭
灼灼其華
The peach tree is young and elegant;
Brilliantly beautiful are its flowers.
This is in a poem about a wedding, and symbolizes the beauty of the bride.
Meanwhile, 杏蕊 is a direct reference to royalty. It’s a reference to the phrase 紅杏尚書, or “the Red Apricot Minister,” which refers directly to Song Qi, a Minister during the Song Dynasty. Song Qi happened to be a great poet, and composed the famous line “紅杏枝頭春意鬧,” which means “On the red apricot branches, the spring is in a vibrant mood.” 鬧, of course, borders on the meaning “chaotic,” and the vivid imagery became famous. Anyway, the combination of 夭桃 and 杏蕊 in this phrase is a direct reference to a royal wedding, and likely refers to Jia Yuanchun’s position as a royal consort.
捱過 means to get through something (i.e. something problematic or painful) while suffering. 秋, or autumn, is naturally the opposite of 春, or spring. The implication here is that the downfall of the whole game is coming soon – and who can survive it? Or, in other words, why boast so much about the beauty of the spring when the autumn is coming to make everything wither away?
白楊 (white polar trees) and 青楓 (green maple trees) are traditional symbols of graveyards and desolation in Chinese poetry. This is further evidence that the unavoidable 秋 (autumn) mentioned in the line before isn’t going to be a happy time.
昨貧今富 means poor yesterday and rich today. It’s a phrase that symbolizes the futility of striving after worldly advancement and worldly things, one that is amplified by人勞碌 (people toil in vain). This image becomes even more stark with the phrase 花折磨 (the flowers are tortured). It’s a very strong Buddhist sentiment: we’re all striving for something that won’t make us happy or bring us peace anyway.
生關死劫 literally means the futility of life and death. Though I believe it originates in Dream of the Red Chamber, it’s clearly a Buddhist concept that refers to the endless cycle of rebirth as long as people continue to strive and desire.
婆娑 means “lush and grand” when used to refer to trees in Chinese poetry. Theoretically, the last two lines could read something like this:
I’ve heard that lush and grand trees grows in the Western Paradise,
Which bear the fruit of immortality.
However, 婆娑 is likely a transcription of the Sanskrit word बोधि (Bodhi), which means enlightenment or awakening.
Given the context of the poem, and the character that this winds up referring to, I think it’s obvious that 婆娑 really refers to bodhi. In other words, the character has decided to go after the tree of enlightenment, or a life devoted to religious asceticism, rather than the life of pleasure, leisure, and glory that her sisters decided on.