Global Chinese Culture
Li Shangyin, poet of late Tang Dynasty

1. Introduction
The late Tang Dynasty poet Li Shangyin (812-858) wrote some of the most lyrical verses known in Chinese poetry, in particular poems about unconsummated love. His use of words with deep meanings, usually linked to some well known ancient lore, but sometimes purely by his clever choice of the right words, resulted in short but densely poetical rhymes that evoke strong sympathies in the reader, in a truly timeless fashion that is as effective today as in his own time.
Not least among the appeal of Li’s poems is their ambiguity: are the love poems just about love, or do they have philosophical or political overtones? Was unrequited love symbolic of his failure to find favour at court among the high officials, and his lamentations about public, rather than just personal, misery? I shall discuss this in a later article. In the mean time, a few translated poems to illustrate his style
登乐游
向晚意不适,驱车登古原, 夕阳无限好,只是近黄昏。
The Leyou Plateau (which overlooks Imperial Tombs)
With the gloom of evening hour
I drive up the ancient heights
The setting sun is glorious to see
Pity it’s so close to the night
蝉
本以高难饱,徒劳恨费声。五更疏欲断,一树碧无情。
薄宦梗犹泛,故园芜已平。烦君最相警,我亦举家清。
To the Cicada
Up in the air it’s hard to feed your fill
And complaining would get you nowhere
By dawn your voice is about to break
But the tree is still green and severe
To my lowly jobs I drift like the woodman
While my farm is overgrown with thorn
Do keep watch over me, my friend
My home, too, is clean and forlorn.
无题
昨夜星辰昨夜风;画楼西畔桂堂东。
身无彩凤双飞翼,心有灵犀一点通。
隔座送钩春酒暖,分曹射覆蜡灯红。
嗟余听鼓应官去,走马兰台类转蓬。
Untitled
Last night’s bright stars; last night’s breeze;
West of the painted tower, east of bay tree hall;
No phoenix wings on my body, to fly away with you;
But our thoughts link, by the rhinestone’s magic.
Across tables we “passed the hook” with spring wines warm;
Our teams played “guess what” under candle lamps bright.
Pity I hear the dawn drum calling me to duty;
To ride between lofty offices like a floating reed
锦瑟
锦瑟无端五十弦,一弦一柱思华年。
庄生晓梦迷蝴蝶,望帝春心托杜鹃。
沧海月明珠有泪,蓝田日暖玉生烟。
此情可待成追忆,只是当时已惘然。
The Harp
Why must the silky harp have fifty strings?
Each reminds me of one of life’s springs.
In his dream Zhuangzi couldnt tell if he was a butterfly;
Longings of Wangdi live on in the cuckoo bird’s cry.
By the Lost Sea moonlight, pearls have mermaids’ tears;
Under the Blue Field warm sun, smoke rises from jade.
Can feelings be saved for later remembrance?
No, even then everything was but a haze.
Chung Kwong
March 19th, 2010 at 10:30 am
2 Forlorn love
In a number of carefully crafted poems, Li Shangyin addresses an obscure, unttainaable object of love
无题 (2nd of 4)
飒飒东风细雨来,芙蓉塘外有轻雷。
金蟾啮锁烧香入,玉虎牵丝汲井回。
贾氏窥帘韩掾少,宓妃留枕魏王才。
春心莫共花争发,一寸相思一寸灰。
Untitled
The east wind whistles; the light rain drizzles;
Beyond the lilly ponds, I hear a faint thunder.
Through the door’s golden frog lock, incense smoke can pass;
From the well with the jade tiger cover, the long line lingers.
Through the curtain the Jia maiden peeps at Junior Clerk Han;
Lady Fu leaves her pillow to Prince Wei admiring his talent.
Let not the spring heart bloom with flowers;
For every inch of longing, every inch of dust.
This is a ambiguous poem that can be taken in several ways. The translation above assumes the “heavy hearted” interpretation – after setting a romantic scene and referring to two well known Wei dynasty love stories, the narrator suddenly makes an outburst of hopelessness; in the “light hearted” interpretation, the poet visits a courtesan, is warmly received, then advises her not to get too serious about him; though this is plausible, the poem seems to become a less appealing piece of work: e.g., the middle four lines become gaudy descriptions of actual scenes instead of metaphorical representations of feelings overcoming obstacles.
《无题》
含情春腕晚,暂见夜阑干. 楼响将灯怯,帘烘欲过难.
多羞钗上燕,真愧镜中鸾. 归去横塘晓,华星送宝鞍.
Untitled (3rd of 4)
Under the spring evening sun, with feelings
I glance at the curfew gate rail
Timidly up the stairs, footsteps sound so loud
Crossing the scent screen, my strengths fail
Your hairpin swallows seem to be mocking me
Before the mirror phoenix, my heart is frail
As I ride home, dawn breaks over the lake
Jeweled saddle under stars bright and pale
This is the third of a set of four untitled poems, the first was “来是空言去绝踪 Coming is an empty word” and the last being “何处哀筝随急管 Where plays the haunting harp…” both to be discussed later; the second of the four was discussed earlier. There seems to be little connection between the first two and the others, besides a general theme of disappointment, though in poem 3 the young man did go up the stairs to see his lover/courtesan, and probably spent the night – perhaps an embarrassed account of sexual initiation rather than rejected courtship. In an alternative version, 晓xiao3 is replaced by 晚wan3 in the second last line, which has the effect of enlarging the disappointment, but it looks wrong as wan3 has already been used once in line 1 and repeats are usually avoided. Further, the mention of hairpin and mirror ought to mean the actual presence of the lady with the guy inside her chamber, rather than he leaving in the evening without entering.
无题
相见时难别亦难,东风无力百花残。
春蚕到死丝方尽,蜡炬成灰泪始干。
晓镜但愁云鬓改,夜吟应觉月光寒。
蓬莱此去无多路,青鸟殷勤为探看。
Untitled
It is hard to meet; it is hard to part;
The east wind is weak, the flowers die.
With the spring silkworm’s death, the threads end;
When the candle turns to ash, the teardrops dry.
The morning mirror frowns on my newly cloudy hair;
At night reading poetry, feel the moon’s cold stare.
The Magic Mountain is not so far from here;
A busy green bird will keep a careful eye.
This is perhaps the most cited of Li Shangyin’s poems, mainly for its 3rd and 4th lines with their desperate expressions of love to the end. Yet the poem ends optimistically, and the mention of magic mountain and green bird add weight to speculation about Li Shangyin’s possible relationship with a taoist priestess, an issue to be separately addressed in a later article.
春雨
怅卧新春白袷衣,白门寥落意多违。
红楼隔雨相望冷, 珠裼飘灯独自归。
远路应悲春腕晚,残宵犹得梦依稀。
玉珰缄札何由达?万里云罗一雁飞。
Spring Rain
Dejectedly I lie in my white spring robe
The saloon is empty and my thoughts are forlorn
The red house feels cold seeing it through rain
Waterdrops lash my lamp as I return all alone
Spring evenings must be sad on your long journey
In the remains of the night, a broken dream maybe
The jade earing and letter, how to get to you?
Through clouds of thousand miles, a stork is flying
In this translation I find it impossible to use the zoologically more accurate “goose” for 雁 and chose “stork” instead – “gander”, “anser”, “branta” or “graylag” also would not do; “swan” might do, but seems less satisfactory than “stork”: the western image of stork bringing baby works for the chinese image of migrating geese bringing message.
无题二首之一
凤尾香罗薄几重,碧文圆顶夜深缝。
扇裁月魄羞难掩,车走雷声语未通。
曾是寂寥金烬暗,断无消息石榴红。
斑骓只系垂杨岸,何处西南任好风?
Untitled 1
How many layers of scented silk printed with phoenix tail?
Still sewing late at night the round tent cloth top
Crescent of face for me to peep, beside the shading fan
Thundering rumble the carriage made, no words got across
Since when did I wait alone by my flickering lamp?
In vain I look for message sent, now that pomegranet’s red
I have my fast spotted horse tied on the willowy bank
To the south or to the west, wherever the good winds send
This translation assumes the male voice; if the female voice is assumed, she laments her lover’s not showing up and wonders where he might be enjoying himself; again, plausible but less attractive
无题二首之二
重帷深下莫愁堂,卧后清宵细细长。
神女生涯原是梦, 小姑居处本无郎。
风波不信菱枝弱,月露谁教桂叶香,
直道相思了无益,未妨惆怅是清狂。
Untitled 2
Under the thick shades in the All Forget hall
Autumn evening after nap is dreary and long
Legends of the fairy have only been a dream
Where the maiden lives, no man can belong
Wind and wave wouldnt heed lilly branches weak
What scents the bay leaves under the dewy moon?
Straightforward words of love wouldnt do any good
Deep sadness or simple madness – nobody can tell
This too has a widely quoted couplet (lines 3-4); its description of a refined maiden living alone again raises the taoist priestess possibility.
为有
为有云屏无限娇,凤城寒尽怕春宵。
无端嫁得金龟婿,辜负香衾事早朝。
Because of
Because of the mica screen, she looks especially nice
Winter ends in windy city, she dreads spring’s sunrise
For what reason did she marry, this rising star husband
Deserting the perfumed quilt, to attend morning audience
A somewhat mocking poem; is Li Shangyin showing feelings of sour grapes, talking about the drawbacks of career success?
李商隐《无题》
八岁偷照镜,长眉已能唬 十岁去踏青,芙蓉作裙衩.
十二学弹筝,银甲不曾卸.十四藏六亲,悬知犹未嫁.
十五泣春风,背面秋千下.
Untitled
At eight she peeps at the mirrors
She could do her own long eye brow
At ten she joins the spring picnic
Flowers make trims for her couture
At twelve she learns to play the harp
With silver nails that stay on her fingers
At fourteen she no longer meets menfolks
In limbo, till the time she becomes a bride
At fifteen she weeps to the breeze o’spring
Face turned away, under the garden swing
The last poem shifts the focus from love to the woman herself, a girl growing into womanhood, lamenting her unfulfilled prospects; is this a subtle expression of Li Shangyin’s own career frustrations? We shall address the issue in the following article.
Chung Kwong
March 19th, 2010 at 10:31 am
3. Career
Li Shangyin lived through the final phase of the decline of Tang, witnessing the central government’s last attempt to assert authority over local warlords, by a successful fight against the secessionist Liu private army, only to have it all thrown away after the death of the Emperor Wuzhong, who was poisoned by taking “longevity elixirs” prepared by his favorite Taoist priest, with the new Emperor Xuanzhong dismissing Wuzhong’s ministers and reversing his policies. Expectation might have been aroused when Xuanzhong brought Linghu Tao, who was the son of Li’s patron Linghu Chu, to court as Imperial Counselor, but in vain as Linghu Tao gave Li almost no assistance for the purpose of moving up the career ladder.
Li Shangyin wrote various poems on state affairs, including the following somewhat lighthearted ones
汉宫词
青雀西飞竟未回,君王长在集灵台。
侍臣最有相如渴,不赐金茎露一杯
The Han Palace
The green bird flew west, not been back to report
Long as the Emperor waits in Fairy Arrival Hall
Who’s got the biggest thirst? Courtier Sima Xiangru
Why not grant him a cup of the Golden Stem Dew?
富平少候
七国三边未到忧,十三身袭富平候。
不收金弹抛林外,却惜银床在井头。
彩树转灯珠错落,绣檀回枕玉雕锼。
当关不报侵晨客,新得佳人字莫愁。
The Young Lord of Wealth and Peace
Secessions and invasions are not problems for me
At thirteen I succeeded as Lord of Wealth and Peace
Sling shots of brass, leave them out in the woods
Silver pulley atop the well? That seems a bit rich
Spinning lamps hung on trees, casting light like pearls
Embroided quilt with pillow box covered in carved jade
Tell the doorman not let in the surprise morning guest
A pretty maid called No Worry has newly joined my world
but these aroused little popular interest; his poems on personal career frustrations are better known, including the Cicada piece quoted in article 1. A couple more here
贾生
宣室求贤访逐臣,贾生才调更无伦。
可怜夜半虚前席,不问苍生问鬼神!
The Scholar Jia
Talent search brings exiles to the audience hall
About Jia Yi’s scholarship none can doubt at all
He held the floor all night, but it’s sad to know
He wasnt asked about people, only about gods
无题(其四)
何处哀筝随急管,樱花永巷垂杨岸。
东家老女嫁不售,白日当天三月半。
溧阳公主年十四,清明暖後同墙看。
归来展转到五更,梁间燕子闻长叹。
Untitled (4th of four)
Where plays the haunting harp, chasing the rushing pipe?
Among Yong Lane cherry blossom, along the willowy shore
The unwanted old maid, living on East side
Under the day’s high noon sun, Ides of March
“There goes Princess of Liyang”, just fourteen this year
In the midspring warmth together, looking on the wall
When she came home, she was awake till morning
The swallows on the beam could hear her sighing
Over the centuries, commentators have attributed this to Li’s own unwise move from one camp to another in a long administrative faction feud. Shortly after the death of Linghu Chu, Li joined the staff of Wang Mouyuan, and subsequently married one of Wang’s daughters. It was believed that Wang belonged to the Li Deyu faction, whereas the Linghu family was with the opposing Niu faction. I shall discuss this issue in the next article; in the mean time, let us consider other relevant factors.
The one striking feature that stands out was the number of times when Li was set back by untimely deaths: of his patrons, his mother, and finally himself, and by unexpected high level personnel changes:
(a) A few years into his apprenticeship as a staff person in Linghu Chu’s district military governorship, but before Li qualified for office in his own right, Linghu Chu was transferred to the capital as Deputy Cabinet Chief, a high sounding position but actually a sinecure, because he was not made an Imperial Counselor at the same time. Without the control over district revenues enjoyed by a military governor, nor the power of patronage of a Counselor, he could not support a substantial staff. Consequently Li had to find another position.
(b) After a period of limbo in the capital, Li joined his uncle Chui Rong, who was the magistrate of the city of Huazhou not far from the capital but was soon moved to be Supervisor in the eastern Yanzhou district; after less than half a year Chui Rong died, leaving Li again in limbo. It was during this period that he was attached to the Taoist temple in Henan, thus avoiding the great turmoil in the capital arising from an unsuccessful attempt to eliminate the eunuchs.
(c) In AD 837, Li passed the Entrants’ Examination, qualifying for Imperial appointment, supposedly with the help of Linghu Tao’s recommendation to the examiners. Just then Linghu Chu was once again given a military governorship, but by the time Li joined him, he had died, and Li was only in time to write the obituary (an honour singling him out to be the best writer among the staff members).
(d) Li joined the staff of another military governor Wang Mouyuan in the following year, and was allowed to marry one of Wang’s daughters. Afterwards he took the Great Learning Examination in the capital and was passed by the examiners, but his name was deleted from the list of successful candidates by “a senior member of the Central Secretariat”, giving rise to the gossip that Linghu Tao, angered by Li’s joining someone else’s camp, put in a bad word. This will be further discussed below.
(e) Despite this, he was appointed an Editor of the Archival Office, and was then moved to be Deputy Magistrate of a county near the capital, apparently at his own request to be closer to his family and get higher pay, but offended the Supervisor by his case handling, though almost immediately the Supervisor was replaced by someone else and he could have continued in his job; however, he insisted on quitting and thus entered another period of limbo.
(f) In AD842, Li managed to become a Scribe of the Archival Office by passing another examination selecting candidates on the basis of calligraphy, thus gaining a promotion over his previous job, but almost immediately, he had to go into the mandatory three-year mourning when his mother died. This happened to be the period when the new Emperor Wuzhong was promoting the Li Deyu faction and reasserting central authority in some ways, an effort in which Wang Mouyuan played a supporting role, but Li’s absence from the scene made it impossible for him to participate. By the time of his return, his father in law had already passed away and was no longer there to help him.
(g) In AD846 he was back in the Archival Office, but Wuzhong died early that year and Li Deyu was dismissed. In the following year, Li Shangyin joined the staff of Zheng Ya who went to Guilin as Supervisor, and was acting as magistrate of a county for a short period. However, by the end of the year Zheng Ya had been purged as a former follower of Li Deyu. This started another period of limbo in which Li Shangyin was on the staff of various officials briefly. In the mean time, Linghu Tao rose to become an Imperial Counselor, but the only help he was known to have given Li was to get him appointed a Professor in the High School, a mid ranked but poorly paid post in which Li lasted just a few months.
(h) Finally in AD851, Li joined the staff of a rising governor, Liu Zhongying (who provided Li with a signing bonus of 350 thousand coins just to join his team) in Sichuan, where Li stayed for over four years, the only time when he wrote poems expressing happiness with his job and his colleagues. When Liu moved up to a lucrative central financial post, Li moved with him. However, just when things were looking up, Li’s health failed, and he resigned his post in AD858, dying shortly afterwards.
Comparing the career history with Li’s friend Du Mu, also a well known poet, one could not say that Li was significantly worse treated. Du rose a little higher in the end, being the magistrate of a few cities, but he lived several years longer to get the promotions, and did not have the same unlucky breaks Li had. Both showed much wisdom in their writings, but as Li admitted himself in a poem addressed to his son (symbolically – the boy was too young to know such things at the time), scholarly pursuits got one nowhere, and military skills would pay off better. However, some expressions of his poverty in the poems could have been just literary license, often to flatter the current patron by exaggerating his impact; given Li’s generous treatment by Liu Zhongying, it would seem reasonable to infer that working on the staff of military governors was a fairly lucrative job, at least for someone with his ministeral rank and literary reputation. Most of the saloon scenes with society girls depicted in his poems would not have been available to the truly impoverished.
While factional feuds had some impact on Li’s career, there was but a weak connection between Wang Mouyuan and the Li Deyu faction, and between Linghu Chu and the opposing faction. Further, by that time the factional division among the ministerial officials was no longer the dominant feature of Tang politics, rather the confrontation between the eunuchs in control of the palace and the emperor, and the officials outside the palace. Both sides will seek sympathizers among the military governors, and eventually the conflict will bring the whole nation to destruction.
Chung Kwong
March 19th, 2010 at 10:32 am
4. Disappointing patron?
This is a problematic poem
九日
曾共山公把酒时 霜天白菊绕阶墀
十年泉下无消息 九日樽前有所思
不学汉臣种苜宿 空郊楚客咏江蓠
郎君官贵施行马 东阁无因再得窥
The Ninth of September
In September I used to drink with the lofty old man
White crysthanthemin around steps under a frosty sky
Ten years into the unknown world without any news
On the Ninth with cup in hand my thoughts do arise
You havnt raised clovers like the Marshal of Han
In vain does the wandering man sing the river lament
The young lord’s post is high; he can use road block
No chance would I get again to visit the eastern court
Nineth of September in the Chinese calendar is for remembrance,重陽節,day to mourn the departed ancestors and seniors as the Spring’s 清明节. This is however a rather bitter poem that looks uncharacteristic; if Li Shangyin wished to publicly complain about his former patron family, he ought to have done it in a more subtle fashion. Note that line 6 uses the character 楚 Chu3 which violates etiquette with respect to Linghu family by uttering the name of Linghu Chu. I have seen an alternative version with just lines 2, 4, 7 and 8, which makes the same point, but mildly and somewhat mockingly, which sound more like Li Shangyin – possibly someone else added 4 lines, or he had two versions, one public and one kept to himself.
Tang dynasty factions arose from its examination system: prior to each imperial exam, candidates would visit the major mandarin families, and present their essays and poems to the family’s officials, staff and retainers; those that found favour with the group would then receive lobbying support with the year’s official examiners, who would be significantly influenced, especially if they are already connected to a particular family. Li Shangyin himself received help this way: shortly before his Entrant (imperial appointment qualification) exam, the examiner himself asked Linghu Tao for recommendations, and Li’s name was put forward. Further, Tang Dynasty permits partial inheritance of official ranks by allowing high mandarins to put up one son for office without examination, thus entrenching fast track career paths within a number of major families.
At the same time, one should not attribute every event to personal maneuvers. For example, it was unlikely that Linghu Tao was responsible for the removal of Li’s name from the list of successful candidates sent to the palace by the examiners for the AD838 Great Knowledge Examination, because he was himself suffering from a loss of influence following his father’s death in the previous year. He would have gone into his own three year limbo period of mourning, after which he also had a string of mediocre jobs (but generally higher than Li’s) over several years. In fact Linghu Chu himself was not in favour with the eunuchs: though not involved in the attempted coup, he was reluctant to support the eunuchs’ wish to carry out a pogrom against all officials hostile to eunuchs, and was sent away from the capital to a military governorship instead of being asked to join the Imperial Counsellorship to replace the coup instigators who had been eliminated.
A more likely explanation is Li encountered opposition among the eunuchs because of his association with Liu Ben, who made himself famous or notorious, depending on which camp one belongs to, for his strongly anti eunuch essay at the Wisdom and Righteousness Examination of AD828. A number of Li’s poems expressed sympathy for Liu Ben, who had to be exiled to obscure posts in remote locations to keep him out of the way. Most of these were written upon Liu’s death, but there is one poem which indicates they met at least once, somewhere quite far away from the capital. Thus, some eunuch may have insisted on Li’s removal from the list of successful candidates when it was sent to the palace by the examiners.
Further evidence against the idea of obstruction from Linghu Tao was the fact that Li Shangyin maintained regular contact, as shown by a number of poems addressed to him, usually with titles indicating the positions he was holding at the different times. It was only later, after Linghu Tao’s rise to Imperial Counselor, that Li began to write poems complaining of neglect.
Several mentions in Sima Guang’s history indicate that Linghu Tao’s position as Imperial Counselor was neither secure nor powerful. He did not achieve it through a record of success in district administration, nor through wide connections with important officials, but because of a personal whim of Emperor Xuanzhong: after sending away Li Deyu, Xuanzhong asked another Counselor “I recall at the funeral of my father Xianzhong, there was this long bearded man with the cortege, who stayed with it when the weather turned rainy, while the others all sought shelter; who was he?” Informed that it was Linghu Chu, he then asked “Did he have sons?” Linghu Tao was called to the capital and found to be satisfactory at his audience with the Emperor, and became Counselor soon after. Thus the Emperor found someone of his own choice, by recalling something he observed 25 years ago and using a tenuous deduction of loyalty.
However, Xuanzhong was fond of micromanaging state affairs on his own: as the power of the Tang court declined, he held on to what little still left. Once he discovered that a magistrate was transferred from one city to another without first returning to the capital for a royal audience to be officially given his new commission, and sarcastically told Linghu Tao “Aha; Imperial Counselors have real power!”, which caused Linghu Tao to “wet his winter underwear with sweat” as Sima Guang recorded. Being neither a resourceful nor courageous person (Sima Guang would describe him as “timid” in a later event when he had to handle some rebellious soldiers passing through his district.), he would have been keen to avoid any acts that might cause him trouble, such as personal patronage that could arouse criticism, especially if there was already opposition to the person seeking help. No doubt Li Shangyin’s links with other patrons made it easier for Linghu Tao to wash his hands off his former friend, but they need not have been the primary cause.
Chung Kwong
March 19th, 2010 at 10:32 am
Li Shangyin (5 final)
5. Priestesss and lovers
To illustrate the length to which some commentators have gone in reading meaning into Li’s poems, take this example.
无题 (1st of 4)
来是空言去绝踪,月斜楼上五更钟。
梦为远别啼难唤,书被催成墨未浓。
蜡照半笼金翡翠,麝熏微度绣芙蓉。
刘郎已恨蓬山远,更隔蓬山一万重。
Untitled
Coming is an emtpy word; going is without trace;
The bell tower tolls dawn to the setting moon.
The dream’s called far away, not returning at my cries;
I write this letter in haste, and the ink is not dark.
Candles shine on the half canopy with gold kingfishers;
Musk scents the quilt with embroidered lily flowers.
The young man Liu lamented that Magic Mountain was far;
But a thousand Magic Mountains lie between you and me.
A celebrated commentator of Li Shangyin poems, Feng Hao, was seriously analyzing this poem to show that Li was begging for forgiveness and understanding with Linghu Tao. This is so patently absurd that I shall say no more on it.
More interestingly, a well known Taiwan authoress, Su Xuelin, suggested that Li Shangyin had romantic liaisons with three sisters who were Taoist priestesses at a temple where he was learning Tao practices in his youth, and later in his middle age, with two sisters who were musicians in the royal palace. To prove the second idea, she pointed to the mentions of “phoenix” in several romantic poems, and dug up palace records showing that a pair of sisterly musicians, bearing names that mean “phoenix” using two different characters, were consigned there around the time. However, “phoenix” is a very commonly used name for girls, as well as a literary way to talk about women, so that it can only be the flimsiest assumption that the poems and the palace records were talking about the same persons, and even flimsier to assume an actual affair.
Further, physically it was very much impossible for an outsider to carry on a relation with anyone in the palace in that period, because the palace was then virtually a big prison: In the early periods of Tang Dynasty, several coups took place with royal princes supported by the capital’s garrison troops invading the palace, so that in later periods all the princes were brought up inside the palace and not allowed to have outside contact. The consequence was increased power for the palace eunuchs, already powerful because of their control of the imperial guards and the palace secretariet. After the death of several of the emperors, the eunuchs in charge of the palace guards simply went to the compound of princes and chose their own favoured successors, who, surrounded by their nominally subservient eunuchs, had little choice but to sign whatever documents the eunuchs prepared. The emperor became a palace prisoner like the princes.
The case for the temple romance is a little better.
月夜重寄
偷桃窃药事难兼,十二城中锁彩蟾。
应共三英同夜赏,玉楼仍是水晶帘
On a Moonlit Night, Sending Again to the Song Huayang Sisters
Stealing elixir or heavenly peach, cant be done again
In the city of twelve walls the rainbow frog is locked
I wish I could view it with the three beauties together
On the jade storey where the curtain o’ glass still hangs
The poem was addressed to Song “the enlightened person of Huayang” and romantically speaks of the moon, wishing that the poet could enjoy the scene with “the three beauties on the jade storey with crystal curtains”. The rainbow frog, literally colour frog, is the mythical animal supposedly on the moon; note the connection of “twelve walls” to the “twelve fold rails” of Emerald City cited below, which is plausibly about the same three sisters/taoist priestesses; legends say moon maiden stole her husband’s elixir to ascend to heaven; and an attendant of Emperor Wu of Han stole peaches from the West Queen Mother’s garden – both references to forbidden fruits. Though the poem does not mention them being priestesses, the name Huayang indicates this as likely. Further, the poem below was addressed to “Song the Enlightened Person of Huayang” and provides some confirmation, and with a bit of poetic imagination, the wording could even be taken to mean that Li Shangyin got into trouble over a liaison, but was rescued by a senior Taoist “Master Liu of Qingdu”, though it could also be taken to have the lesser meaning of “I learned much from you and thank you for the favour”.
赠宋华阳真人兼寄清都刘先生
沦谪千年别帝宸,至今犹识蕊珠人。
但惊茅许同仙籍,不记刘卢是世亲。
玉检赐书迷凤篆,金华归驾冷龙鳞。
不因杖履逢周史,徐甲何曾有此身
To the Enlightened Person Song of Huayang; also sending to Master Liu of Qingdu
Exiled a thousand years I have been away from heaven
Today I still want to thank the pearl-setting person
Surprised to find Mao and Xu on the same divine list
Didnt realize Liu and Lu were old family friends
Give me letters touched by jade, I see phoenix’s charm
Riding home with honours high, dragon’s scales are cool
Like Xu Jia I met the master carrying stick and shoes
Without your favours, I would not be the same human
寄永道士
共上云山独下迟,阳台白道细如丝。
君今并倚三珠树,不记人间落叶时
To the Taoist Yong
Together up the cloudy hill, alone you came down late
The white path to sun plateau is narrow like thread
O friend you now lean on the three pearled trees
Recall not the shedding season in the earthly realm
The third poem, addressed to “Taoist Yong”, again stretching the imagination a bit, talks about him happily leaning on “three pearled trees”, i.e., enjoying the favour of the three sisters, though it probably means much less: “tree of three pearls”, little more than a symbolic expression of other-worldliness.
There are several other poems expressing admiration for the goddess Holy Matron or love for some other mysterious, unattainable beauty living in a heavenly world, with lyrical descriptions of the living quarters of these unearthly maidens.
碧城三首(其一)
碧城十二曲阑干,犀辟尘埃玉辟寒。
阆苑有书多附鹤,女床无树不栖鸾。
星沉海底当窗见,雨过河源隔座看。
若是晓珠明又定。一生长树水精盘。
Emerald City
The rails of Emerald City have twelve curved folds
Rhinestone keeps dust away, jade keeps away the chill
Letters from Fairy World are mostly carried by storks
Each tree has a phoenix bird perching on Pixie Hill
From the window you see stars set to bottom of ocean
Rain falling on the river head, view it from the seat
If ‘morrow the morning-pearl would stay here again
All our life face to face be on the crystal tray
重过圣女祠
白石岩扉碧藓滋,上清沦谪得归迟。
一春梦雨常飘瓦,尽日灵风不满旗。
萼绿华来无定所,杜兰香去未移时。
玉郎会此通仙籍,忆向天阶问紫芝。
Revisiting Holy Matron Shrine
Fresh green moss grows on the white stone wall
Exiled spirits return here long after their fall
Spring season’s dreamy rains often wash the tiles
Whole day’s vague breeze doesnt lift flags tall
Green Fairy will come when she feels like to come
Orchid Maid has left till some unknown time
Jade Boy’s here to join the list of the divine
He remembers asking heaven for the plant of life
All in all, they add up to an arguable, though far from proven, case. At least it would not be physically impossible to carry on a romance with a Taoist priestess.
The ease with which so much meaning could be extracted from the poems reflects the special “poeticness” of Li Shangyin’s work, that the words evoke feelings rather than tell a message. It is this mystery that enhances the beauty of the words themselves, for poetry lovers of generations past and to come.