夕次盱眙县 - 韦应物
Arriving at Xuyi County at Dusk - Wei Yingwu
夕次盱眙县 - 韦应物
Arriving at Xuyi County at Dusk - Wei Yingwu
夕次盱眙县
Arriving at Xuyi County at Dusk
落帆逗淮镇
Dropping the sails at a Huai River town,
停舫临孤驿
We moor our boat near a lonely post station.
浩浩风起波
A vast wind rises, rippling the waves,
冥冥日沈夕
While dusk deepens, the sun sinking into night.
人归山郭暗
People head back behind shadowy city walls,
雁下芦洲白
As geese descend upon pale reed islets.
独夜忆秦关
Alone in the night, I recall the frontier passes of Qin,
听钟未眠客
Listening to distant bells, a sleepless traveler far from home.
In this poem, Wei Yingwu captures the mood of evening arrival at Xuyi County, set along the Huai River. The poem opens with images of dropped sails and a boat gently coming to rest near a solitary station, emphasizing the transition from movement to a momentary pause. A sweeping wind and darkening sky highlight the subtle shift into night, creating a scene at once peaceful and vaguely stirring.
Life behind the distant city walls carries on, while wild geese settle on nearby reed-covered banks. That tranquil, natural scenery soon gives way to the poet’s internal reflections: far from home and haunted by memories of the Qin frontier, he feels an undercurrent of longing. The toll of bells in the distance resonates with his restlessness, underscoring his status as a traveler who cannot yet find rest.
Across its brief lines, the poem expresses both the external scene—a quiet evening by the water—and the inner state of a mind turned toward bygone places. Though the setting is marked by calm, there is an ever-present ache of displacement. By pairing the vastness of nature with the intimacy of personal memory, Wei Yingwu invites us to sense the profound resonance that can exist between solitude in unfamiliar terrain and the yearning for what was left behind.
• Stopping to rest can stir deep introspection.
• Evening light and natural surroundings often heighten a sense of longing.
• Travel reminds us of home and the quiet resonance between our inner world and the broader landscape.
I imagine the poet stepping off a small boat, the sky tinted orange and purple, inhaling the gentle hush of Xuyi’s evening air.
When I picture Wei Yingwu arriving at Xuyi County, I sense not merely a change of location, but a reflective transition that gently merges day into night.
One feels the embrace of the horizon’s fading light, wrapped in a moment that belongs neither fully to day nor to night, but to the sweet threshold between them.
I love how the poet seems to be at peace with the slowing pace, as if pausing not just physically but spiritually as well.
It’s a soft nudge for us to stop chasing deadlines, even if briefly, and simply greet the stillness of the twilight hour with gratitude.
The peaceful mood of ‘夕次盱眙县’ resonates with the hush of a day’s end, inviting us to pause and absorb the subtle shift of dusk.
There’s a peaceful acceptance here, as though the poet has learned that the world continues its quiet dance of light and shadow, whether we notice or not.
The poem’s gentle tone reminds me of how we might feel pulling off a highway after a long drive, finally finding rest in a quiet roadside motel.
In just a few lines, the poet captures the calm of a riverside settlement at twilight.
Reading this poem is like stepping onto a boat gliding quietly into a small harbor, with water gently lapping at the shore and time itself seeming to slow.
Reading ‘夕次盱眙县’ under the dim glow of a lamp heightens its sense of tranquility, as if the poet himself is standing by my side, pointing out the darkening sky.
Sometimes, the hush of evening can be the loudest voice, reminding us of what the day has left behind.
Though set in ancient times, the poem’s calm acceptance of transition resonates powerfully with us now—reminding us that in every journey, we must allow ourselves to pause, reflect, and find a sense of serene wonder.
It is fascinating how a simple arrival at dusk can spark such profound reflection—like the calm after a storm, or a gentle breath after a long sprint.
Comparing it to Li Bai’s adventurous travel poems, I notice Wei Yingwu’s calmer approach—less about excitement and more about observation and serene acceptance of the twilight hour.
Wei Yingwu’s subtle imagery, from the river’s twilight glow to the soft silhouettes on the horizon, suggests that every new place can be a space for inward contemplation.
The calmness in these verses makes me think of open windows at dusk, letting in cool air and a moment of introspection after a busy day.
That sense of drifting lull in the poem speaks volumes about embracing stillness in the midst of endless journeys, a concept surprisingly relevant for our modern, fast-paced lives.
Some poems yell with emotion; this one whispers, allowing the subtlety of dusk’s quiet to speak for itself.