[Poem] SPIRIT OF XIAO AND XIANG (NO. 2) - A Glimpse of Sorrow by the Xiang River

This second poem in Liu Yuxi’s “Spirit of Xiao and Xiang” series evokes the legendary lament of E Huang and Nü Ying, the consorts of the sage-king Shun who, upon his death, are said to have wept so bitterly that their tears stained the local bamboo. Drawing upon this lore, Liu Yuxi captures a dreamlike setting along the banks of what is often called the Chu region—where the Xiao and Xiang rivers flow.

The poem opens with a vision of green hills surrounding the water’s edge. This gentle, curving geography hints at both shelter and seclusion, as though nature itself envelops the sorrowful tales whispered by ancient legends. The striped or ‘spotted’ bamboo continues as a powerful symbol of mourning, its tears forever marking the landscape with memory.

By the third line, the poem shifts to a question: “Where now are the ones we knew?” This line does more than ask about vanished figures of myth; it poses a broader query about how quickly time claims our loved ones, leaving only natural scenes to serve as silent witnesses. The poet suggests that, even if physical traces are lost, stories and emotions linger, woven into the very tapestry of the land.

In the final line, we see an image of sky and water melding into a single, reflective expanse. This closing moment unites the earthly (the emerald waters) with the celestial (the long sky). It underscores the poem’s quiet mood, in which grief finds a lasting home in nature’s vastness. Thus, while the bamboo stands as a tangible reminder of ancient sorrow, the fusion of water and sky gestures toward the universality of longing: it is at once deeply personal and immeasurably cosmic.

Within these four lines, Liu Yuxi weaves together legend, natural beauty, and philosophical yearning. Echoing many of his other works, the poem invites readers to reflect on how landscapes come to embody collective memory. That the sorrow of two imperial consorts could endure for centuries in the bamboo’s striations suggests that certain emotions—love, grief, devotion—remain indelible, even as kingdoms and lives pass away.

In the end, “Spirit of Xiao and Xiang (No. 2)” balances tender melancholy with awe at nature’s capacity to hold and preserve human stories. The hush of dusk and the faint reflection across water convey a sense that time progresses without pause, yet leaves traces of heartbreak in its wake. For Liu Yuxi, the Xiang River region becomes both a literal place and a metaphorical threshold, where mortal tears and mythic echoes merge in a timeless, reflective hush.