南浦别 - 白居易
Farewell at the Southern Shore - Bai Juyi
南浦别 - 白居易
Farewell at the Southern Shore - Bai Juyi
南浦别
南浦凄凄别
西风袅袅秋
一看肠一断
好去莫回头
Farewell at the Southern Shore
By the southern shore, the moment of parting feels so forlorn
The west wind swirls gently, heralding autumn’s chill
A single backward glance cuts deep into my heart
Go well—try not to look back again
In this concise yet affecting poem, Bai Juyi captures the delicate tension between love, memory, and the necessity of letting go. Set at a place called “the southern shore” (南浦), the poem situates us at a transitional landscape, where water meets land and autumn’s onset underscores the melancholy of change. The “west wind” (西风) blowing softly introduces a mild chill, highlighting that seasonal shifts often mirror inner emotional states—just as leaves fade and nights grow longer, relationships, too, can transition toward an inevitable farewell.
The poem’s brevity enhances its emotional impact. In four lines, Bai Juyi presents a scene of heartbreak—“A single backward glance cuts deep into my heart”—revealing how even a fleeting gesture can trigger a flood of sentiment. Yet, the final line offers a hint of resolution: “Go well—try not to look back again.” Here, the poet nudges both the traveler and the reader to accept that some partings must be faced without constant regret.
Throughout his body of work, Bai Juyi often addressed themes of human vulnerability and the impermanence of attachments. “Farewell at the Southern Shore” exemplifies his skill in wedding direct, accessible language to profound emotional resonance. By placing us at a liminal space—the meeting of land and water—he underscores how life’s turning points can hold both sorrow and the faint promise of a new beginning. In just a handful of characters, this poem invites quiet contemplation on how, despite our longing, we must sometimes move forward without dwelling on what has passed. The gentle resignation in its tone reminds us that acknowledging loss is a natural part of personal growth, much as autumn inevitably yields to winter and, eventually, the reawakening of spring.
1. Even the shortest poems can convey deep emotional complexity.
2. Nature’s seasonal changes often parallel our own experiences of gain and loss.
3. Bai Juyi’s direct language fosters empathy, inviting readers to see themselves in moments of parting.
4. Accepting farewells, while difficult, can open space for new chapters and quiet inner growth.
I love how the poem’s setting, hinted at by the title ‘南浦别,’ frames the parting near a watery locale. It’s as if the flowing currents themselves stand as witnesses to the sorrowful goodbye.
The poem’s bittersweet farewell echoes in each subtle line, evoking quiet sadness.
There’s a subtle grace in how the poet depicts farewell not as an abrupt end, but as a tender pause before life’s currents carry people apart. It’s a perspective that makes each goodbye feel like a soft echo of what once was.
It’s the kind of poem you’d read at twilight, feeling that gentle tug of nostalgia for those who have departed your life.
Compared to Li Bai’s exuberant farewell poems, Bai Juyi’s approach is more subdued. Where Li Bai might raise a cup of wine in a burst of camaraderie, Bai Juyi offers a quieter moment of reflection, letting the emotional weight settle in slowly.
The poem’s emotional core resonates with any era—whether we’re waving farewell to friends heading overseas for work or simply parting after a brief weekend visit. It’s a reminder that goodbyes can tug at us in surprising ways.
Reading ‘南浦别’ calls to mind modern-day farewells at airports, where travelers linger in that last embrace, aware their paths will soon diverge. This poem’s gentle sorrow resonates with anyone who’s ever tasted the sting of goodbye in an age of global connectivity.
In ‘南浦别,’ Bai Juyi combines a gentle rhythm with vivid imagery, weaving a melancholic aura around the act of parting. It’s like he’s capturing the moment a boat drifts slowly into the distance, the figures on the shore growing smaller, yet leaving behind a deep, aching feeling of loss.
Sometimes I imagine a small boat launching at the river’s edge under a pastel evening sky, the poet watching until only ripples remain to mark the absence. It’s a quietly heartbreaking image.
Ultimately, the poem’s understated elegance drives home the truth that even soft words carry a heavy sadness when spoken at the water’s edge. Bai Juyi leaves us contemplating how each farewell, no matter how quiet, can stir an ocean of emotion under its surface.
Sometimes, a short farewell can hurt more than a long goodbye, and Bai Juyi’s delicate lines capture that sudden pang flawlessly.
Comparing it to Li Shangyin’s cryptic parting poems, ‘南浦别’ is far clearer and gentler. Li Shangyin often cloaks longing in symbolic layers, but Bai Juyi’s sorrow is straightforward, revealing a tenderness that speaks directly to the heart.
The poem feels like a gentle wave lapping at the shore, each crest hinting at unspoken regrets and lingering hopes.
The subtle repetition of certain themes reminds me of Bai Juyi’s ‘忆江南(其一),’ which also revolves around longing and cherished memories. In both poems, the poet masterfully captures how time and distance feed into a single wistful yearning for what once was.
Sometimes, this poem reminds me of Du Fu’s departure verses, though Bai Juyi’s tone is softer, focusing on the delicate emotional thread that ties people together even when they must part ways. Du Fu might have woven larger social contexts into his farewells, but here the spotlight falls on the personal ache of the moment.
The poem’s brevity underscores how fleeting these moments are, as if Bai Juyi wants to reflect that farewells themselves are only brief instants that linger in memory far longer than in real time.
The simplicity of the language makes the farewell feel incredibly intimate—like a brief, heartfelt conversation at dusk before life sweeps each person in a different direction.
When placed alongside Bai Juyi’s ‘琵琶行(并序),’ the focus here feels narrower. ‘琵琶行(并序)’ addresses a musician’s sorrow on a broader level, while ‘南浦别’ hones in on the heartache of a single departure—both, however, showcase the poet’s empathy for human sadness.
I love how Bai Juyi captures the hush of parting without needing grand phrases. Each line flows gracefully, like a wistful sigh left in the wind.
In an era when high-speed trains and flight schedules make departures seem routine, I’m reminded that even now, every farewell can hold profound meaning. The poem’s timeless sense of parting sadness cuts through today’s practicalities, highlighting the enduring emotions behind each journey.