[Poem] RIVER SNOW (SECOND VERSION) - Clarification on the Known Poem and Possible Confusions

In classical Chinese literature, Liu Zongyuan’s poem “江雪” (River Snow) is famously represented by a single, concise quatrain:

千山鸟飞绝
万径人踪灭
孤舟蓑笠翁
独钓寒江雪

(Amid a thousand mountains, no birds are in flight; along ten thousand paths, not a single human footprint remains. In a lone boat, an old man in a straw cape and hat fishes alone on a cold river in the snow.)

This is generally referred to simply as “江雪” (Jiang Xue) and is not typically enumerated into “(其一),” “(其二),” etc. Scholarly and popular anthologies of Tang poetry do not include a commonly recognized “second” version, nor an alternate text labeled as “江雪(其二).” If you see a reference to “江雪(其二),” it could be:

1. **A Modern Mislabeling or Editorial Choice**: Sometimes editors or modern commentators might add “(其二)” to distinguish it from other poems in a collection, or to indicate a variant manuscript. However, this is not standard.
2. **An Imitation or ‘Answer Poem’**: In Chinese literary tradition, poets often wrote ‘reply poems’ (和诗) or dedicated lines that echo famous verses. It is possible someone created a poem inspired by “江雪” and labeled it as “(其二).” This would be a later or spurious composition, not from Liu Zongyuan himself.
3. **Confusion with Another Poem**: Occasionally, poems of similar themes (solitude, snow, fishing) by other Tang or Song poets get conflated or mistakenly attributed.

### If You’re Seeking the Authentic Liu Zongyuan Poem
Please note that the definitive version of “江雪” is the quatrain quoted above. No second, officially recognized poem under that same title exists in reputable Tang poetry collections. If you encounter something labeled “江雪(其二),” treat it as either a modern editorial variant, a creative homage, or an apocryphal poem—not part of Liu Zongyuan’s canon.

In essence, “江雪” stands alone as one of the most iconic representations of solitude in a harsh winter landscape. Its power lies in the minimal yet striking imagery, blending profound isolation with a stoic acceptance of nature’s stark beauty. That image—an old fisherman adrift in a world empty of birds or people—has captivated readers for centuries, inspiring numerous tributes, but no direct “(其二)” from Liu Zongyuan himself.