[Poem] NO TITLE (AT THE WESTERN WING OF THE GOLDEN PALACE) - A Glimpse of Splendor Turned Quiet

Often referred to simply as “No Title,” this quatrain by Liu Yuxi paints an image of regal stillness and untold sorrow. The poem begins with an evocative scene of the palace’s western wing, where the vibrant greens appear to tilt or fold in layers of natural beauty. Immediately, readers sense a grand yet solemn atmosphere, hinting at the grandeur of a once-thriving imperial court.

In the second line, the view extends eastward to a Jade Terrace, concealed behind billowing clouds. This juxtaposition between the golden palace and the distant terrace underscores a sense of separation—perhaps from the poet himself, or from bygone times. It suggests that what once might have been accessible and celebrated now sits behind veils of time and memory.

The third line introduces a moment of haunting regret. Dew on the “jade canopy” conveys a chilly stillness, as though the passing of the seasons or the passage of history has transformed what was once alive and vibrant into a realm of sorrow. Liu Yuxi’s choice of the phrase “千年恨” (a thousand years of regret) amplifies this feeling, revealing how a place can become imbued with the lingering emotions of those who once lived, loved, and lost.

Concluding with the image of the Phoenix Hall (an ornate imperial pavilion) locked behind six jeweled gates, the poem suggests isolation and emptiness. By naming specific details—Phoenix Hall, jeweled gates—Liu Yuxi anchors the reader in the realities of an opulent court. Yet that opulence stands silent, deserted, and inaccessible in the present. This stark closure resonates with the poem’s central idea: that even splendor, once it has passed into memory, can become an echo of longing rather than a living presence.

Liu Yuxi’s personal experiences of political exile and displacement may well inform the poem’s undercurrent of wistfulness. Having observed the rise and fall of fortunes at court, he casts a reflective gaze on how quickly majesty can be stilled by time’s forward march. In just four lines, he conveys not only a physical space shrouded in silence but also the intangible weight of history—left behind in statues, silent halls, and gates that no longer open for festivities.

Ultimately, “No Title (At the Western Wing of the Golden Palace)” merges natural imagery with vestiges of imperial life, highlighting the gap between outward beauty and the loneliness of vanished grandeur. Through a delicate balance of descriptive detail and emotional nuance, the poem invites readers to contemplate the lasting echoes of past splendor—and to ponder how time reshapes once-glorious places into repositories of memory and quiet regret.