[Poem] ON AN AUTUMN NIGHT, NEAR DAWN, STEPPING OUT THE GARDEN GATE TO MEET THE COOL AIR: STIRRED BY WHAT I FEEL - A Reflection on Unfinished Reconquest and Earnest Vigil

In “秋夜将晓出篱门迎凉有感,” Lu You (1125–1210) harnesses a brief autumn moment to summon a sweeping vision of China’s vast landscapes and the lingering sorrow over lost territories. Though the poem comprises just four lines, it channels the poet’s deep patriotic sentiment—a hallmark of his work during the Southern Song Dynasty.

1. **Stirring Scene at Dawn**
- The title situates us in a hushed, pre-dawn setting. Lu You steps beyond his simple garden gate, feeling the chill of autumn. Despite the local intimacy of the scene, the poem swiftly expands to a panoramic reflection on China’s geography and the lingering plight of those under foreign rule.

2. **Epic Scale of Rivers and Mountains**
- The opening couplet references two potent symbols: the Yellow River (黄河), flowing eastward for “three thousand li,” and mountain peaks rising so high they scrape the sky. These images recall the grandeur of the Chinese realm, underscoring the poet’s heartfelt connection to the land.

3. **Weeping in “Foreign Dust”**
- The phrase “遗民泪尽胡尘里” (those left behind have wept their tears away in barbarian dust) alludes to northern lands lost to the Jurchen-led Jin dynasty. “胡尘” is a common term for the “foreign dust” or the domain under non-Han control, evoking how countrymen left behind yearn for rescue.

4. **Year upon Year, the Waiting Continues**
- The final line—“南望王师又一年” (turning south, we look for the imperial armies—yet another year passes)—reveals the poet’s bittersweet refrain: the longing for a grand reconquest. For Lu You, the Southern Song government had not done enough to reclaim the north. Each passing year renews hope but also frustration.

5. **Patriotic Lament and Persistent Hope**
- Though the poem brims with sorrow, it also underscores a tenacious faith in eventual unification. Lu You’s poetry frequently balances grief over the present with conviction that future generations might succeed where his has been hindered. The cameo of morning’s chill becomes a metaphor for a collective shiver—an entire realm unsettled until the rightful domain is restored.

This poem’s brevity intensifies its emotional effect: in four lines, Lu You moves from the immensity of rivers and mountains to the anguish of displaced citizens, finally landing on a single, plaintive gaze “southward,” waiting for the day relief will arrive. The cyclical refrain—“another year”—hints that each autumn night, each sunrise, brings with it the same unbroken longing.