黄鹤楼送孟浩然之广陵 - 李白
Seeing Off Meng Haoran from Yellow Crane Tower - Li Bai
黄鹤楼送孟浩然之广陵 - 李白
Seeing Off Meng Haoran from Yellow Crane Tower - Li Bai
故人西辞黄鹤楼,
My old friend leaves the Yellow Crane Tower to the west
烟花三月下扬州,
Amidst blossoming willows in March, he heads down to Yangzhou
孤帆远影碧空尽,
A lone sail recedes into the vast azure sky
唯见长江天际流。
All that remains is the Yangtze River flowing along the horizon
Written by Li Bai, this poem captures the delicate moment of parting as the poet bids farewell to his close friend, Meng Haoran, who embarks from Yellow Crane Tower toward Yangzhou in early spring. The scene is set against a backdrop of blossoming willows and bright skies, reflecting both the beauty of nature and the bittersweet feelings associated with separation. Li Bai’s words emphasize the gentleness of the season juxtaposed with the ache of farewell; the towering view offers a final glimpse of his friend’s boat, symbolized by a lone sail fading into the distance. As that sail disappears into the blue horizon, the unrelenting course of the Yangtze River comes into focus, underscoring the flow of life that persists even through change and parting.
In four succinct lines, Li Bai masterfully evokes a powerful sense of transience: friendships, like the spring blossoms, flourish brightly and then slip away. Yet there is a serene acceptance in his tone—though the friend must depart, life’s currents carry us onward, much like the inexorable flow of the river. The poem’s imagery of open skies and endless waters suggests a vast world in which such moments of sorrow and hope are universally experienced. Beyond the personal farewell, the poem resonates with anyone who has had to watch someone they cherish drift away, balancing the tenderness of memory with the forward momentum of time.
• Departure and parting are universal experiences that connect humanity.
• Seasonal imagery heightens the sense of both beauty and impermanence.
• Friendship endures beyond physical separation.
• Nature’s constant flow reminds us that life moves forward, even as we bid farewell.
I recently watched a friend depart on a long flight. This poem reminds me that farewells have always carried a quiet, aching beauty, no matter the era.
Li Bai captures a timeless ache: the sadness of watching a close companion fade into the horizon, leaving only endless water and sky behind.
He weaves natural splendor and personal sentiment seamlessly. You see the vast Yangtze River and feel the heartbreak of a dear friend’s absence in just a few lines.
Compared to Du Fu’s more somber tone in “登高,” Li Bai’s lines here carry a sense of wistful beauty, especially with the imagery of the distant sail.
The way Li Bai describes the silhouette of Meng Haoran’s lone sail disappearing into the skyline feels cinematic. Even centuries later, we can picture it vividly.
The mood here is both majestic and lonely. It’s like standing on a high tower, watching a loved one shrink into the horizon, powerless to stop it.
I love how he blends the beauty of spring blossoms with the ache of departure. It’s almost like he’s painting a serene backdrop for heartache.
Compared to his earlier “静夜思,” this poem focuses less on personal homesickness and more on the poignant farewell to a cherished friend, set against a grand landscape.
Whenever I revisit this poem, I’m reminded of how even the grandest scenery can be overshadowed by the simple sorrow of parting ways.
When I think of “故人西辞黄鹤楼,” I imagine two friends, arms linked, hesitating to part as the boat drifts away.
There’s so much grace in his phrasing. You feel the vastness of the river and the weight of letting a dear friend go.
In an era of high-speed trains and digital chats, the loneliness of that single departing boat still echoes our own goodbyes today.
Reading it during a time of international travel restrictions underscores how farewells can be uncertain. We never know when we’ll reunite, and that resonates deeply here.
When I read “唯见长江天际流,” it reminds me of how partings flow endlessly, like a river that never really stops. It’s a bittersweet comfort.
Compared to Wang Wei’s contemplative style in “送元二使安西,” Li Bai seems more direct in expressing both the physical and emotional distance unfolding in front of him.
In contrast to “早发白帝城,” where Li Bai writes about swift travel and excitement, “黄鹤楼送孟浩然之广陵” exudes a soft sadness. The friend leaves more slowly, and the heart aches longer.
Li Bai’s farewell to Meng Haoran feels both grand and deeply personal. The vivid riverside imagery makes it unforgettable.
Li Bai’s mention of ‘烟花三月’ feels like a gentle reminder that even in the loveliest season, goodbyes can sting. It’s universal, even now.
It’s astonishing how a poem so concise can convey an entire world of emotion—the swirl of springtime beauty and the chill of farewell.
Reading this poem after saying goodbye to a coworker moving abroad, I’m struck by how partings still sting, despite technology easing the distance.
Compared to Du Fu’s “月夜” focusing on longing for family, here Li Bai channels the pain of separation between friends, yet both poems underline how parting always stirs the deepest emotions.