listening my heart

The Lotus Pool By Moonlight
By Zhu Ziqing

The last few days have found me very restless. This evening as I sat in the
yard to enjoy the cool, it struck me how different the lotus pool I pass
every day must look under a full moon. The moon was sailing higher and higher
up the heavens, the sound of childish laughter had died away from the lane
beyond our wall, and my wife was in the house patting Juner and humming
a lullaby to him. I quietly slipped on a long gown, and walked out leaving
the door on the latch.

A cinder-path winds along by the side of the pool. It is off the beaten track
and few pass this way even by day, so at night it is still more quiet. Trees
grow thick and bosky all around the pool, with willows and other trees I
cannot name by the path. On nights when there is no moon the track is almost
terrifyingly dark, but tonight it was quite clear, though the moonlight
was pale.

Strolling alone down the path, hands behind my back, I felt as if the whole
earth and sky were mine and I had stepped outside my usual self into another
world. I like both excitement and stillness, under the full moon, I could
think of whatever I pleased or of nothing at all, and that gave me a sense
of freedom. All daytime duties could be disregarded. That was the advantage
of solitude: I could savour to the full that expanse of fragrant lotus and
the moonlight.

As far as eye could see, the pool with its winding margin was covered with
trim leaves, which rose high out of the water like the flared skirts of
dancing girls. And starring these tiers of leaves were white lotus flowers,
alluringly open or bashfully in bud, like glimmering pearls, stars in an
azure sky, or beauties fresh from the bath. The breeze carried past gusts
of fragrance, like the strains of a song faintly heard from a far-off tower.
And leaves and blossoms trembled slightly, while in a flash the scent was
carried away. As the closely serried leaves bent, a tide of opaque emerald
could be glimpsed. That was the softly running water beneath, hidden from
sight, its colour invisible, though the leaves looked more graceful than
ever.

Moonlight cascaded like water over the lotus leaves and flowers, and a light
blue mist floating up from the pool made them seem washed in milk or caught
in a gauzy dream. Though the moon was full, a film of pale clouds in the
sky would not allow its rays to shine through brightly; but I felt this
was all to the good - though refreshing sleep is indispensable, short naps
have a charm all their own. As the moon shone from behind them, the dense
trees on the hills threw checkered shadows, dark forms loomed like devils,
and the sparse, graceful shadows of willows seemed painted on the lotus
leaves. The moonlight on the pool was not uniform, but light and shadow
made up a harmonious rhythm like a beautiful tune played on a violin.

Far and near, high and low around the pool were trees, most of them willows.
These trees had the pool entirely hemmed in, the only small clearings left
being those by the path, apparently intended for the moon. All the trees
were somber as dense smoke, but among them you could make out the luxuriant
willows, while faintly above the tree-tops loomed distant hills - their
general outline only. And between the trees appeared one or two street lamps,
listless as the eyes of someone drowsy. The liveliest sounds at this hour
were the cicadas chirruping on the trees and the frogs croaking in the pool;
but this animation was theirs alone, I had no part in it.

Then lotus-gathering flashed into my mind. This was an old custom south of
the Yangtse, which apparently originated very early and was most popular
in the period of the Six Kingdoms,* as we see from the songs of the time.
The lotus were picked by girls in small boats, who sang haunting songs
as they padded. They turned out in force, we may be sure, and there were
spectators too, for that was a cheerful festival and a romantic one. We have
a good account of it in a poem by Emperor Yuan of the Liang dynasty called
Lotus Gatherers:

*222-587 A.D.

Deft boys and pretty girls
Reach an understanding while boating;
Their prows veer slowly,
But the winecups pass quickly;
Their oars are entangled,
As they cut through the duckweed,
And girls with slender waists
Turn to gaze behind them.
Now spring and summer meet,
Leaves are tender, flowers fresh;
With smiles they protect their silks,
Drawing in their skirts, afraid lest the boat upset.

There we have a picture of these merry excursions. This must have been a
delightful event, and it is a great pity we cannot enjoy it today.

I also remember some lines from the poem West Islet:

When they gather lotus at Nantang in autumn
The lotus blooms are higher than their heads;
They stoop to pick lotus seeds,
Seeds as translucent as water.

If any girls were here now to pick the lotus, the flowers would reach above
their heads too -- ah, rippling shadows alone are not enough! I was feeling
quite homesick for the south, when I suddenly looked up to discover I had
reached my own door. Pushing it softly open and tiptoeing in, I found all
quiet inside, and my wife fast asleep.


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荷塘月色

这几天心里颇不宁静。今晚在院子里坐着乘凉， 忽然想起日日走过的荷塘，在这满
月的光里， 总该另有一番样子吧。月亮渐渐的升高了，墙外马路上孩子们的欢笑，
已经听不见了；妻在屋里拍着闰儿，模模糊糊地哼着棉歌。我悄悄地披上大衫，带上
门出去。

　　沿着荷塘，是一条曲折的小煤屑路。这是一条 幽僻的路；白天也少人走，夜晚
更加寂寞。荷塘四面，长着许多树，蓊蓊郁郁的。路的一旁 ，是些杨柳，和一些不
知道名字的树。没有月光的晚上，这路上阴森森的，有些怕人。今晚却很好，虽然月
光也还是淡淡的。

　　路上只我一人，背着手踱着。这一片天地好象 是我的；我也象超出了平常的自
己，到了另一 个世界里。我爱热闹，也爱冷静；爱群居，也爱独处。象今晚上，一
个人在这苍茫的月下， 什么都可以想，什么都可以不想，便觉是个自由的人。白天
里一定要做的事，一定要说的话 ，现在都可以不理。这是独处的妙处；我且受用这
无边的荷香月色好了。

　曲曲折折的荷塘上面，弥望的是田田的叶子。叶子出水很高，象亭亭的舞女的裙。
层层的叶子中间，零星地点缀着些白花，有袅娜地开着的，有羞涩地打着朵的；正
如一粒粒的明珠， 又如天里的星星。微风过处，送来缕缕清香， 仿佛远处高楼上渺
茫的歌声似的。这时候叶子 与花也有一丝的颤动，象闪电般，霎时传过荷 塘的那边
去了。叶子本是肩并肩密密地挨着，这便宛然有一了道凝碧的波痕。叶子底下是脉
脉的流水，遮住了，不能见一些颜色；而叶子却更见风致了。

　　月光如流水一般，静静地泻在这一片叶子和花上。薄薄的青雾浮起在荷塘里。叶
子和花仿佛在牛乳中洗过一样；又象笼着轻纱的梦。虽然是满月，天上却有一层淡淡
的云，所以不能朗照；但我以为这恰是到了好处－－酣眠固不可少，小睡也是别有风
味的。月光是隔了树照过来的，高处丛生的灌木，落下参差的斑驳的黑影；弯弯的杨
柳的稀疏的倩影，象是画在荷叶上。塘中的月色并不均匀；但光与影有着和谐的旋律，
如梵婀玲上奏着的名曲。

　　荷塘的四面，远远近近，高高低低都是树，而 杨柳最多。这些树将一片荷塘重
重围住；只在小路一旁，漏着几段空隙，象是特为月光留下的。树色一例是阴阴的，
乍看象一团烟雾；但杨柳的丰姿，便在烟雾里也辨得出。树梢上隐隐约约的是一带远
山，只有些大意罢了。树缝里也漏着一两点路灯光，没精打采的，是渴睡人的眼。这
时候最热闹的，要数树上的蝉声和水里的蛙声；但热闹是他们的！我什么也没有。忽
然想起采莲的事情来了。采莲是江南的旧俗 ，似乎很早就有，而六朝时为盛；从诗
歌里可以约略知道。

　　于是又记起<<西洲曲>>里的句子：

　　采莲南塘秋，莲花过人头；低头弄莲子，莲子青如水。今晚若有人采莲，这儿的
莲花也算是“过人头”了；只不见一些流水的影子，是不行的。这令我到底惦着江南
了。——这样想着，猛一抬头，不觉已是自己的门前；轻轻地推门进去，什么声音也
没有，妻已睡熟好久了。