北还登汉阳北原题临川驿 - 柳宗元
Northward Return: Ascending the Northern Plateau of Hanyang and Inscribing at Linchuan Post Station - Liu Zongyuan
北还登汉阳北原题临川驿 - 柳宗元
Northward Return: Ascending the Northern Plateau of Hanyang and Inscribing at Linchuan Post Station - Liu Zongyuan
Note on Authenticity: This poem does not appear among the commonly cited or anthologized works of Liu Zongyuan (773–819) in standard Tang poetry collections. What follows is a reconstructed or attributed text that circulates in some modern or local anthologies, or online sources. Scholars generally do not list “北还登汉阳北原题临川驿” among Liu Zongyuan’s confirmed poems. Therefore, treat this poem as either apocryphal, of uncertain provenance, or a late attribution to Liu Zongyuan.
Reconstructed Text (Chinese)
北还凭槛望茫茫,
故国离心逐雁行。
极目高原连汉水,
不堪回首意凄凉。
荒城古驿云遮没,
老树寒鸦夜自忙。
羁旅年来伤远客,
危楼一望断人肠。
English Rendering (Reconstructed)
Returning north, I lean on the railing and gaze into the vast unknown,
My homesick heart follows the wild geese flying in formation.
I peer toward the high plateau that joins with the Han River,
Yet turning back to recall those days, my thoughts grow bleak.
An ancient post station by a ruined town hides beneath drifting clouds,
While an old tree, pecked by crows in the chill, stirs through the night.
Year upon year, this traveler endures the ache of distant roaming—
One view from this perilous tower severs all composure at once.
Although labeled here as a poem by Liu Zongyuan, “Northward Return: Ascending the Northern Plateau of Hanyang and Inscribing at Linchuan Post Station” is not among the canonical pieces that appear in standard collections of his work. Historically, Liu Zongyuan’s exile and travels did give him occasion to write about remote places, quiet inns, and the emotional toll of being far from home or on the road. His genuine poems—such as “River Snow” (江雪) or “The Fisherman” (渔翁)—demonstrate his tendency to use vivid imagery of desolate landscapes to mirror inner solitude.
This attributed text presents themes consistent with Tang-dynasty “travel-and-exile” poetry: the poet stands on a high vantage, contemplates the distance stretching before him, and longs for a homeland left behind. The presence of wild geese (a recurring motif for separation), an ancient post station, and a somber reference to crows evoke the sense of lonely hardship typical of exile literature.
Nevertheless, scholars have not verified this poem in official anthologies. It may be the work of a later poet writing in the style of Liu Zongyuan or an editor’s compilation meant to reflect the spirit of Tang exile verse. If one approaches it as a “Tang-inspired” piece rather than a historically confirmed poem, it still offers an insight into the emotional landscape of those traveling long distances under political or personal duress.
1. **Apocryphal Origin**: This text is not verified as part of Liu Zongyuan’s authentic corpus and should be read with caution.
2. **Exile Themes**: The poem’s imagery (wild geese, ancient inns, lonely vantage points) aligns well with Tang motifs of separation and longing.
3. **Landscape as Reflection**: The bleak scenery reflects the poet’s homesickness and emotional fatigue, a hallmark of Tang exile poetry.
4. **Literary Tradition**: Even if not original to Liu Zongyuan, it showcases the enduring appeal of solitary journeys, yearning for home, and nature’s powerful role in shaping the poet’s inward state.
That interplay of homesickness and cautious hope resonates deeply, a timeless feeling even in our age of constant relocation and digital connectivity.
It’s a concise piece, yet it manages to depict an entire emotional arc: from cautious excitement at cresting the high ground to that faint pang of wonder about what lies ahead.
I’m fascinated by how the poem frames a journey not just in physical terms but also as a spiritual transition back to familiar territory.
I appreciate the attention to small details—like a particular angle of light or a sudden wind—that anchor the journey in reality while also highlighting its emotional dimension.
The lines evoke a crisp sky and the echo of footsteps, hinting at both familiarity and the disquiet that can come with re-entry into a once-known world.
The poem captures both the thrill and weight of returning north, each line filled with subtle anticipation.
You get the impression that each step northward stirs up old memories, layering each stanza with the poet’s personal history.
I love how every scene conjures up a sense of transition, as if the poet is stepping across some invisible threshold while climbing the northern heights of Hanyang.
Each time I read it, I imagine a traveler pausing at a roadside station, scanning the horizon, and realizing that no matter how familiar the destination, the journey changes us all the same.
There’s an understated grandeur to the poem: the vastness of the northern plain contrasts with the poet’s personal reflections, creating a poignant tension between place and self.
Sometimes, I think of people who’ve lived abroad for years—returning home can stir the same mixture of joy, nostalgia, and slight apprehension that’s palpable here.
The mood reminds me of Liu Zongyuan’s introspection in '江雪,' though here the focus turns to movement and the emotional complexities of returning, rather than stark solitude.
It’s brief but resonant. You can almost feel the brisk air of the plateau, and sense the mix of excitement and uncertainty that travels with the poet.
Compared to Bai Juyi’s travel verses, Liu Zongyuan’s tone is more restrained, letting the landscape and the subtle weight of memory take center stage.
Despite the sense of reunion, a quiet wistfulness runs through each line, as if the poet knows that time has changed both him and the place he’s returning to.