武陵春(风住尘香花已尽) - 李清照
Wuling Spring (When the Wind Ceased, the Fragrance Faded, and the Flowers Were Spent) - Li Qingzhao
Where Faded Blossoms and a Lingering Heartache Collide
【Original Chinese】
武陵春(风住尘香花已尽)
风住尘香花已尽，
日晚倦梳头。
物是人非事事休，
欲语泪先流。
闻说双溪春尚好，
也拟泛轻舟。
只恐双溪舴艋舟，
载不动、许多愁。
【Literal English Translation】
Wuling Spring (When the Wind Ceased, the Fragrance Faded, and the Flowers Were Spent)
The wind has stopped, the dusty scent has vanished, and the flowers are gone.
At day’s end, I’m too weary to comb my hair.
Though all appears the same, the people have changed—everything is lost.
I try to speak, but tears come first.
They say that along the Twin Creeks, spring still holds beauty;
I also thought to take a light boat downstream.
But I fear that a small boat on the Twin Creeks
Cannot carry such a load of sorrow.
武陵春(风住尘香花已尽)
风住尘香花已尽，
日晚倦梳头。
物是人非事事休，
欲语泪先流。
闻说双溪春尚好，
也拟泛轻舟。
只恐双溪舴艋舟，
载不动、许多愁。
【Literal English Translation】
Wuling Spring (When the Wind Ceased, the Fragrance Faded, and the Flowers Were Spent)
The wind has stopped, the dusty scent has vanished, and the flowers are gone.
At day’s end, I’m too weary to comb my hair.
Though all appears the same, the people have changed—everything is lost.
I try to speak, but tears come first.
They say that along the Twin Creeks, spring still holds beauty;
I also thought to take a light boat downstream.
But I fear that a small boat on the Twin Creeks
Cannot carry such a load of sorrow.
In “Wuling Spring (When the Wind Ceased, the Fragrance Faded, and the Flowers Were Spent),” Li Qingzhao employs the elegant ci form to convey a moment of profound emotional weight. The poem’s title, “Wulingchun,” refers to a specific tune pattern; its lines are arranged to fit a melody once performed in Song Dynasty gatherings.
At the poem’s outset, Li Qingzhao sets a scene of abrupt finality: the wind halts, blossoms have fallen, and their scent lingers only faintly in the dust. This quiet transformation of a once-vibrant garden suggests both a passing of time and an irrevocable personal loss. The poet, so burdened by sorrow, finds even the simple act of grooming her hair at day’s end to be wearisome—a sign of emotional exhaustion.
The central line, “物是人非事事休” (Though the surroundings are unchanged, the people are different, and all is ended), crystallizes the poem’s core lament: the outer world may look familiar, but the poet’s world has been irrevocably altered by the absence or transformation of those she once knew. This mismatch between outer appearance and inner reality triggers tears before words can form.
In the second stanza, Li Qingzhao introduces a glimmer of possibility: traveling by boat to see whether spring’s beauty still remains at “Twin Creeks.” However, this hope is immediately tempered by the poet’s realization that her sorrow is too heavy a cargo. The tiny boat, a commonly used image in Chinese poetry to represent journeys or transitions, becomes an ironic vessel—one incapable of bearing the weight of her grief.
This final admission—that her longing might overwhelm any attempt at escape or solace—confirms Li Qingzhao’s mastery of capturing longing within simple, poignant images. The poem leaves us with a sense of quiet resignation: while the rest of nature continues its gentle seasonal shift, the poet stands apart, held fast by a sorrow that must be carried within.
Over the centuries, “Wuling Spring (When the Wind Ceased…)” has been cherished for its universal depiction of separation and regret. That Li Qingzhao’s personal voice resonates so strongly in just a few lines speaks to her ability to merge delicate, sensory details with deeper emotional currents. Readers anywhere, at any time, can recognize the ache of a once-familiar place suddenly rendered foreign by a changed heart.
Key points
• Illustrates Li Qingzhao’s skill in capturing heartbreak with spare, precise language.
• Contrasts the unchanged outer world with the poet’s now-irreparably altered inner reality.
• Uses nature (fallen blossoms, still winds) as metaphors for finality and loss.
• Depicts an attempt to seek solace (a boat ride to see spring’s beauty) that proves impossible under the weight of overwhelming sorrow.
Comments
CosmicBlazShort note: each line thrums with a mild ache, overshadowing illusions with a hush that denies neither sorrow nor hope, forging heartbreak into a tranquil vow to endure.
Cheerful HareA middle reflection: illusions soared like spring blossoms, overshadowed now by hushed regret. The poet’s acceptance reveals heartbreak carried softly—no bitter complaint, just a gentle sigh for parted joys.
Neon FoxShort yet potent: it’s as though illusions once bloomed but now drift away under the hush of a calm wind, leaving only faint echoes of parted joys.
Atomic EagleUltimately, ‘武陵春(风住尘香花已尽)’ endures as a gentle testament to heartbreak overshadowed by calm reflection. No thunderous outcry—just illusions drifting away with petals, overshadowed by the hush that follows. Li Qingzhao’s vow stands in each quiet line: heartbreak, however deep, can find a subdued grace in acceptance, trusting that memories of blossoming days stay luminous, even as the last petal settles in the dust.
HorizonDawShort but resonant: illusions parted as the wind died, overshadowed by a hush-laden acceptance that sorrow can exist gently, holding no illusions of returning bloom.
ZenithPoweSometimes this poem reminds me of how social media occasionally highlights the fleeting nature of beauty, like ephemeral festival blooms that vanish too soon, overshadowing illusions of perpetual blossom with a mild hush of regret.
Urban Quantum BurstA longer reflection: in this hush-laden piece, Li Qingzhao weds heartbreak to nature’s ephemeral cycle. Flowers fall, dust settles, and illusions slip away. The poet’s unwavering mild tone crafts heartbreak as an inescapable hush—less a raw wound than a quiet echo of cherished days. This subdued approach fosters empathy: sorrow merges with the mild hush of vanished fragrance, forging a vow that parted hopes remain dear, even if overshadowed by an intangible stillness. Each verse underscores how illusions sometimes yield to the inevitability of seasons, trusting heartbreak’s hush to carry lingering warmth rather than bitter regret.
Royal SealShort impression: each verse stands on a gentle threshold between longing and acceptance, heartbreak overshadowed by the dust-laden hush that follows a wind long gone.
- HorizonDaw
Sometimes it parallels how small local fairs end abruptly, leaving empty stalls and a hush-laden field. The poem’s mild heartbreak resonates with that sense of illusions once bright, overshadowed by a quiet emptiness after the excitement fades.
Silent RavenCompared anew with Du Fu’s lamentations of communal ruin, Li Qingzhao’s heartbreak focuses inward, overshadowed by the hush of personal illusions undone, not the collapse of broader society. Both highlight sorrow, but from vastly different vantage points—one cosmic, one intimately personal.
Fierce Black WolfCompared to Li Qingzhao’s more playful ‘如梦令(常记溪亭日暮),’ which weaves comedic mishaps into heartbreak, ‘武陵春(风住尘香花已尽)’ leans toward deeper sorrow. Both revolve around parted illusions, but this piece intensifies the hush of finality, overshadowing any chance for laughter with a calm, bittersweet sigh.
Brave Red FalconCompared once more with Li Bai’s flamboyant celebrations of nature, Li Qingzhao’s hush-laden heartbreak remains intimately personal. Both can highlight fleeting joys, but Li Bai exults in cosmic wonder, while this poem gently concedes illusions must fade, overshadowed by calm acceptance.
Solar PrismIn its gentle tone, the poem suggests that illusions, once vivid, now recede quietly, forging a vow that heartbreak doesn’t need loud lament, only a mild recognition of what’s been lost.
Brave PrismYou sense the poet’s gaze drifting across a courtyard once vibrant with petals, now hushed in mild gloom, heartbreak overshadowed by the unstoppable hush that often attends fading beauty.
Fabled OwlCompared yet again with Liu Yong’s signature heartbreak-laced poem ‘雨霖铃(寒蝉凄切),’ both depict parted hopes overshadowed by a hush. Yet where Liu Yong dwells on drizzle-soaked farewells, Li Qingzhao merges heartbreak with dust-scented calm, letting illusions vanish in a subdued swirl of fallen petals.
Savage RaptorA gentle hush underscores each line, revealing heartbreak that persists quietly after flowers fade and dust settles.
Abstract RhythmA middle reflection: each phrase implies sorrow that doesn’t clamor for attention; rather, it softly weighs on the poet’s heart, overshadowed by acceptance that illusions—much like petals—must eventually fall.
