碧城三首(其一) - 李贺
Bi Cheng (First of Three) - Li He
碧城三首(其一) - 李贺
Bi Cheng (First of Three) - Li He
This poem is the first in a trio known as “碧城三首,” or “Three Poems of Bi Cheng.” Though “碧城” (Bicheng) literally suggests a ‘Jade-Green City,’ Li He often uses place names more as evocative backdrops than strictly geographical references. Here, he weaves together images of grandeur—‘twelve winding balustrades,’ ‘horn and jade’—with the sudden hush of wintery isolation.
In the first couplet, we see the poet’s characteristic juxtaposition of the refined and the protective: horn (traditionally believed in Chinese lore to repel miasma or dust) and jade (associated with purity and an almost magical ability to ‘ward off cold’). This imagery immediately elevates the setting into a domain of rare beauty and otherworldly atmosphere.
The second couplet shifts focus to a more remote, wintry scene. ‘Nine Sons Peak’ is a name that conveys a certain mythic resonance or local lore, while swirling snow intensifies the hush. The mention of oars—‘橹声’—in the distance counters the silence, yet that faint sound feels abruptly cut off (‘遥断’) by the icy sky of Chu. This interplay between distant sound and enveloping cold underscores a sense of isolation and longing, hallmarks of Li He’s verse.
Overall, the poem is at once stately and haunting. It transports us into a half-imagined realm where courts of jade and horn stand on the threshold of untamed mountain peaks. The hush of snow and the echo of boat oars remind us that beneath such finery and mythic grandeur lies the ever-present chill of separation—from warmth, from companionship, and from the more familiar comforts of the world below.
• Balances opulent imagery (jade, horn, lofty balustrades) with stark natural forces (snow, frigid skies).
• Uses place names symbolically, blending the legendary or imagined with concrete sensory details.
• Evokes isolation through sudden silence and a single, distant sound—a literary hallmark of Li He.
• Highlights the Tang-era fascination with both celestial elegance and the sober reminder of nature’s chill.
A short phrase can pierce with its subtle detail—like the mention of dim corridors or silent courtyards—turning the poem into a nocturnal realm where echoes of old regrets linger.
It resonates with how some people respond to modern heartbreak—retreating to peaceful corners of their homes or posting solitary images online, drenched in soft filters. The poem’s hush mirrors that desire to cloak sorrow in gentle beauty, hoping no one notices the deeper ache.
Compared with his own '致酒行,' which rumbles with spirited toasts and underlying dread, Li He here narrows the scope to a dimly lit, inward scene. While '致酒行' bristles with a fierce energy, '碧城三首(其一)' is all about whispered laments, giving us a fuller picture of Li He’s emotional range.
Contrasted with Li Bai’s exuberant nature poems, Li He’s lines stay tethered to a subdued gloom, as if each blossom or painted wall conceals deeper shadows. Both evoke the beauty of the world, but Li He’s perspective cradles more unspoken loneliness.
Compared to Li He’s more vibrant '马诗(其五),' which gallops with frontier energy, '碧城三首(其一)' unfolds in a hushed, almost ethereal tone. Both poems share a sense of underlying sorrow, but here the focus is on a lone voice absorbed in half-lit reverie rather than the raw power of restless horses.
Next to Du Fu’s weighty social concerns, Li He’s quiet heartbreak in '碧城三首(其一)' might seem distant from worldly turbulence. Yet each line echoes an individual’s private sorrow, reminding us that personal ache endures regardless of political storms, binding these two poets in a shared exploration of human fragility.
Long reflection: The poem conjures the image of moonlit walls painted in faint hues, with the poet standing alone, half-lost in memory. It’s as though each detail—every soft color, drifting shadow, and hush of night air—becomes a gentle testament to yearning. Li He suggests that beauty and sorrow often mingle without fully colliding, leaving a delicate tension for us to feel rather than solve. In that quiet tension, the poem’s true power emerges, bridging centuries to speak of how human longing can remain graceful even when colored by regret. The lingering hush of '碧城三首(其一)' reminds us that sometimes, the softest aches carry the deepest resonance.
Juxtaposed with Li Shangyin’s dreamlike verses, Li He’s approach is more direct, though no less poignant. Where Li Shangyin often cloaks feelings in cryptic layers, Li He here offers a glimpse of sorrow tinged with delicate imagery. Both poets, however, excel in portraying the intangible ache beneath outward beauty.
A soft veil of melancholy shimmers through each line, as though every word hides a quiet longing.
In our modern frenzy of city lights, this poem resonates whenever we seek a moment of calm reflection—like stepping away from social media scrolling to watch the night sky, feeling that silent pull of longing Li He so deftly weaves.
Sometimes the poem feels like reading a quiet diary entry under flickering lamplight, reminiscent of how people now post late-night reflections online, seeking solace from the day’s noise. Li He’s gentle sadness mirrors the hush we find in those vulnerable, modern midnight confessions.
The stanzas glide with a graceful hush, suggesting that even vibrant color—like the titular '碧'—can mask heartbreak just as well as it can illuminate it.