Wang Anshi – Part 2

This is part of our accidental series on the Song, and this is also our second episode on the poetry of Wang Anshi (王安石). Today, we look at a ballad that Wang wrote upon the death of his wife and continue our debate about the merits of Wang. For the original poem, check here.

Lee’s Translation:

When I was poor, I ran around

to make sure we were fed. 

In a hundred days of running around, 

I could only return home once.

—- 

The pleasures of an ordinary life, 

I am bitter we will not be able to spend it all together. 

My true wish was that we would grow old, 

relying on each other. 

—-

The empty room, the rustling sound, 

it is the tassled funeral curtain. 

The blue flame at midnight, 

the weak sound of crying. 

—

I can imagine your voice and face, 

but where is it now?

Beneath the earth, 

will we meet again?