this: 'He treads on the frost; the strong ice will come, by and by, where he sets foot on.' This saying shows that the true way of the subject of the weak Kun (symbol of Earth) is in following after the strong Qian (1), the symbol of Heaven."
In other words, the poet queries whether he is prompt enough to leave more or less appreciable contribution in the national literature and poetry of Tang in such a short period of time remained at his disposal before he meets with his grand ancestors in the world beyond.
Li Yang Bing, the governor of Dangtu and the poet's kinsman, gives the following account of Li Bai's death: “When he was about 'to hang up his cap' (an euphemism for “dying”) he was worried at the thought that his numerous rough drafts had not been collected and arranged appropriately. Lying on his deathbed, he gave over to me all his documents that I might put them in order.”
In addition, in the Great Appendix (Xi-ci Zhuan; Section 1, Verse 4) of the "Zhou Yi" we read:
"The sages, looking up, contemplate the brilliant phenomena of the heavens,
And, looking down, examine the definite arrangements of the earth;
Thus, they know the causes of darkness on Earth and light in Heaven,
What is obscure, but what is bright. They trace things to their beginning
And follows them to the very end; -- thus, they know what can they say
About the ceaseless inquest of life and death. They perceive how the union
Of vital substance and breath can form all things and disappearance
Or wandering away of the soul produces the change of their constitution;--
They know the characteristics of all things, distinction between men
And beasts; the distinction between the gods, spirits and evil ghosts. . ."
Bowing his head, the poet thinks of his grand ancestors, the meeting with whom is not far off from now. For whatever reason, this poem is considered as a famously known and broadly popularized work of Li Bai, which still appears in school textbooks in China; but for the westerners, hopefully, it has now much more significant content.
It has been generally understood, I believe, that Li Bai's point of strength lies not on the formal level of his versification, which is quite a monotonous recurrence of certain reflections about the impermanence of human beings as opposed to the immutability of Nature, but in the stylization of his poetry. Above all, Li Bai was a songwriter. Most of the poems translated previously are songs, not verses. It is noteworthy that his tombstone bore the inscription, said, “His skill lay in the writing of archaic songs.” His immediate predecessors had carried to the highest refinement the art of writing in elaborate patterns of tone. In all his works there are said to be only a dozen of poems in the strict seven-character-a-line metre. Most of his short poems are in the archaic style, which neglects the formal arrangement of tones. Therefore, the value of his poetry lay in the beauty of word coinage (the Chinese graphs), as he was an outstanding wordsmith, not in the beauty of thoughts. A good half of his poems contains some reference to the fact that the mountain streams do not return to their springs, and that all rivers run to the east while a man changes with every 'quarter of an hour' or 'ke' (the Daoist term of time reckoning on earth). Again, due to the universal beauty of Chinese characters, for the modern Chinese and all Chinese speakers, his poetry exists more for the eye than for the ear.
As it has been mentioned earlier, Li Bai's poetry was ranked as the national treasure of Tang along with General Pei Min's swordsmanship and Zhang Xu's calligraphy performed in the wild cursive style (kuang-cao).
Curiously enough but true that swordplay and calligraphy are akin in nature, the solid ground of both is based on a line drawn in the air by a double-blade sword, or by the brush which outlines the cursive strokes on a sheet of paper. Li Bai, who succeeded in his swordsmanship to the height of creating his own fencing style, was also a skilled calligrapher. Regrettably, we have only one extant piece of his work made in his own handwriting.
This piece of written in semi-cursive script is titled "shang yang-tai" (上陽臺 or "Climbing Up Yangtai Terraces"). This is a horizontal scroll of 380.1 by 280.5 mm (15.0x11.2 in.) with the later addition of the title performed by Emperor Hui-zong of Song (reigned in 1101-1125) and a postscript added by Emperor Qian-long of Qing (1711-1799). Today the scroll is housed in the Palace Museum (gu-gong) in Beijing.
As for Zhang Xu's calligraphy, here are some samples of his cursive script.
Zhang Xu's formal name was Bo Gao; he was born in Wuxian district (present-day Jiangsu, Suzhou) in 675. He was acclaimed as the originator of the wild cursive script (kuang-cao) who enjoyed considerable fame in his own day; he was counted among the poets Li Bai and Du Fu as one of the members of the association entitled "The Eight Drunken Immortals." All the venerable members were intimate friends and absolute geniuses in their own fields of creativity.
Although wild cursive script seems to break radically from all past traditions, Zhang Xu based his style on the more prominent earlier calligraphers. It is believed that he was further influenced by the Daoist practice of blind writing by a bamboo stick in the sand. His wild style is widely praised, especially by later scholars, yet one of the by-products of his style is a pronounced deformation of graphical structures to resemble us a great gap between the classical ballet and its modern reformation.
As for Li Bai's versification, rapt with wine (rice wine) and the mysterious moonlight, he was acclaimed as "Wine Immortal." Meanwhile, critics have focused on the poet's strong sense of continuity of poetic tradition, his glorification of wine and frank celebration of drunkenness, the use of persona, the fantastic extremity of his imagery, his mastery of formal poetic rules and his ability to combine all these factors with a seemingly effortless virtuosity to produce inimitable poetic works. Other themes in Li Bai's poetry, noted especially in the 20th century, are sympathy for the common folks and antipathy towards waging wars even when conducted by the ruling house. As a good warrior himself and an excellent sword player, he had learned very well Sun-zi's precept which stated that "to fight and conquer the enemy in all one's battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting."
As Sinologist John Wu observed, "While some may have drunk more wine than Li Bai, none has written more poems about wine." Chinese poets were often associated with drinking wine and Li Bai was part of a group of Chinese scholars and poets in Chang'an who were united under the roof of "The Eight Immortals of the Wine Cup."
The ancient Chinese generally did not find the moderate use of alcohol to be immoral or unhealthy. What's more, in the eyes of the ancients, ability to drink much without becoming tipsy proved one's personal 'gong-fu' or a high level of physical and mental resistance associated, first of all, with the psychic training and the sound state of mind.
James Liu noticed that the world "zui" (drunk) in poetry did not mean quite the same things as "intoxicated," tipsy" or "inebriated," but rather "being mentally carried away from one’s regular preoccupation." He translated the term "zui" as "the rapt with wine.” It is interesting to mention here that the graph "zui" consists of two parts: liquor and an infantryman (the lowest rank in the army, food for powder), meaning 'steeping in liquor to death' if without some special skill and training termed 'gong-fu.' The Eight Immortals, however, drunk to an unusual degree, though, due to their special state of mind and intellectual capability, were viewed as the pleasant eccentrics. Most critics concluded that nearly all Chinese poets celebrated their joy of wine, but none so tirelessly and with such a note of genuine conviction and self-cultivation in this line of "training" as Li Bai himself.
One of his famously known poems is named "How I Was Waking from Drinking Bout in a Spring Day" is translated by the author of this essay as follows:
春日醉起言志 (How I Was Waking from Drinking Bout in a Spring Day)
處世若大夢；The idea of winning the world is but a big dream;
胡爲勞�
�生。So, why should I go for broke to implement it?!
所以終日醉；For this reason I got drunk at the end of that day,
頹然臥前楹。Lying as a lord on the threshold of my doorway.
覺來盼庭前；When I came round I longed for the garden-lawn;--
一鳥花間鳴。A lonely bird was singing amid the blooming trees.
借問此何時；I asked myself: What time of the day is it? In reply,
春風語流鶯。The spring wind put in my bad head the oriole's trill.
感之欲嘆息；Moved by that song, I almost burst into a groan, and
對酒還自傾。As a whole pitcher of wine was there, I clung to it. . .
浩歌待明月；Then, wildly singing, I was looking at the rising moon;
曲盡已忘情。Before my sword routine was over, I let myself go mad.
How I Was Waking From Drinking Bout in a Spring Day
The idea of winning the world is but a big dream;
So, why should I go for broke to implement it?
For this reason, I got drunk at the end of that day,
Lying as a lord on the threshold of my doorway.
When I came round I longed for the garden-lawn;--
A lonely bird was singing amid the blooming trees.
I asked myself: What time of the day is it? In reply,
The spring wind put in my bad head
The Moon Pool Page 5