Smoldering songs of a caged phoenix

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Nine Songs
The Great Unity, the Sovereign of the East
On this auspicious day, at the felicitous hour,
Joyously we entertain the sovereign Lord,
With long swords and jade guards in our hands,
With girdles of lapis-lazuli tinkling their soft "ling-lang,"
We offer jade gifts on mats of fairy grass,
Holding up fragrant grasses and jades.
We pour libations of pepperjuice and cinnamon wine.
The drumsticks are raised; we beat the drums.
Psalters and zithers unfold in a great harmony.
The ministrants dance in flowing silks and resplendent robes.
A wafting fragrance fills the spaces of the hall,
And the five tones in crowded chorus sing:
Glory and gladness to the happy lord!

************************************************
I was a prime minister once; my family traced its name back to the imperial line. But it was all stripped from me, piece by piece, even my humanity. All that I have left are the old poems and a distorted fame in my homeland that, perhaps, I do not deserve.

The plane sets down in this dark metropolis, lights spinning by my window. Perhaps here I can escape the past, or at least the sour tang of regret...

---

This manor is obviously quite a ways distant from the airport, so I take the opportunity to scratch a few lines. The woman driver of this cab puts in a CD of Asian traditional music, and though the tunes are mostly alien to me because of the years I lost under that Taoist spell, the sounds of the instruments themselves stir memories, memories that were brought to the fore of my mind by the trip to China I just returned from...

The kingdom of Qin... they actually won. China, Qin. How utterly depressing. When I was a young man Qin, to the north and west of my homeland of Chu, was bent on annexing the other states, including mine. Holding the second highest office in the state, I urged that the Chu resist Qin and ally with the state of Qi to the east. Word of my plan made its way through the mouths of traitorous dogs to Zhangyi, a minister of Qin who was trying to disrupt any anti-Qin alliances. Researching through his spies the group dymanics of the Chu court, he seized upon an incident with a jealous court official in Chu to get rid of me.

You see, I had refused to let Jin Sheng, the chief minister to King Huai (sovreign of Chu), have a look at a draft of a decree the king had asked me to draw up. In anger Jin had spread the rumor that I was leaking state secrets. He had accused me of boasting that without my literary aid no decree could be drafted. The king of Chu, not a terribly confident man to begin with, began to feel that I was belittling him.

When the story of this incident reached the ears of Zhang Yi in Qin, the foreign dog secretly sent a large amount of gold, silver and jewels to Chu to bribe Jin Sheng and the king's favorite concubine to form an alliance against me. The result was that the king banished me from the capital in 313 BCE.

The next year, as relations between Qin and Chu worsened, I was called back and named to a high office, but the Qin-supported clique continued its machinations against me for many years.

In 299 BCE after several unsuccessful forays against Chu, Qin invited my sovreign for a state visit, ostensibly for talks. I immediately suspected a trap and urged my liege not to go. But would not listen and he even accused me of interfering.

On the way, King Huai was seized by Qin troops. He died in captivity three years later.

But I must not dwell on the past too much; the present is here, the city lights fading behind me as we enter the mist of deep night. I remember a poem I once wrote; in English it loses its magic, but the sentiment remains:

The Lady of the River Xiang

Descend on northern isle, my lady dear, but I am grieved to see not clear.
The autumn breeze, ceaselessly grieves the Dong-Ting waves, with fallen leaves.
I gaze afar 'mid clovers white and wait for our tryst in the twilight.
Among the reeds can birds be free? What can a net do atop a tree?
White clover grows beside the creek; I long for you but dare not speak.
I gaze afar my beloved one, I only see rippling water run.
Could deer find food within the door? What would a dragon do upon the shore?
At dawn by the riverside I urge my steed; across the western stream at dusk I speed.
For you bid me to come today; together we are to ride away.
A midstream palace shall soon be made; over its roof lotus weave a shade.
In purple court thyme decks the wall; with fragrant pepper is spread the hall.
Pillars of cassia stand upright, and rooms smell sweet with clover white.
We weave the ivy into a screen and spread the ground with its leaves green.
The corner stones shall be white jade, and fragrance of orchids shall never fade.
On lotus roof let vetch be found and azaleas are fresh around.
The courtyard if filled with herbs so fair; the corridor with perfume rare.
All gods will come from mountains high like rainbow clouds o'erspreading the sky.
I throw when I wake from my sweet dream, my shirt with sleeves into the stream.
I pluck sweet flowers upon the bay; I'd give to strangers far, far away.
For time once lost can't be found again; from thinking of you I would refrain.

---

I sit here in my new apartment, carefully sealed ancient texts and rare books all around me in apparent disarray, and all I can think of is my encounter with the Elder Mai. The initiation into Anantya Clan even fades beside her overwhelming presence in my memory. I have been searching for such guidance for so very long, and she, so simply, so gently, like the brush of a wisteria blossom against the softest flesh, has led me to an enlightenment that had eluded me.

I was born into a royal line. I was once the third most powerful man in my country. If my efforts to protect my people were frustrated, perhaps it was for a purpose. Dao has driven me hither; I must relax and let Dao flow through me, let it control my path. I will accomplish great things by ceasing to attempt to accomplish anything. As the opportunities arise, I will know which to select, if I am in tune with the nameless, formless force that serves as the universe's ground.

I am immortal, I am part of the Dao. I cannot move the universe, but in moving with the Dao, I may serve as a tool for its being moved.

Thank you, Mai.

I must finish ordering my apartment as best I can (tomorrow evening I will begin shopping for proper additions to the furnishings), but first I shall put into English a poem Mai's words brought back to me:

Crossing the river
Since I was young I have worn gorgeous dress
And still love raiment rare,
A long gem-studded sword hangs at my side,
Long, proud hat I wear.
Bedecked with pearls that glimmer like the moon,
With pendent of fine jade,
Though there are fools who cannot understand,
I ride by undismayed.

Then give me green-horned serpents for my steed,
Or dragons white to ride,
In paradise with ancient kings I'd roam,
Or the world's roof bestride.
My life should thus outlast the universe,
With sun and moon supreme.

By southern savages misunderstood,
At dawn I ford the stream.
I gaze my last upon the river bank,
The autumn breeze blows chill.
I halt my carriage here within the wood
My steeds beside the hill.

In covered vessel travelling upstream,
The men bend to their oars;
The boat moves slowly, strong the current sweeps,
Nearby a whirlpool roars.
I set out from the bay at early dawn,
And reach the town at eve.
Since I am upright, and my conscience clear,
Why should I grieve to leave?
I linger by the tributary stream,
And know not where to go.

The forest stretches deep and dark around,
Where apes swing to and fro.
The beetling cliffs loom high to shade the sun,
Mist shrouding every rift,
With sleet and rain as far as eye can see,
Where low the dense clouds drift.
Alas! all joy has vanished from my life,
Alone beside the hill.
Never to follow fashion will I stoop,
Then must live lonely still.

One sage of old had head shaved like a slave,
Good ministers were killed,
In nakedness one saint was forced to roam,
Another's blood was spilled.
This has been so from ancient times till now,
Then why should I complain?

Unflinchingly I still shall follow truth,
Nor care if I am slain.

Now, the phoenix dispossessed,
In the shrine crows make their nest.
Withered is the jasmine rare,
Fair is foul, and foul is fair,
Light is darkness, darkness day,
Sad at heart I haste away.

---

I have spent several months now reading and becoming familiar with the near magical technology that allows us to draw songs from the ether and listen to them with no one else to interrupt. I've found my own influence in the strangest of places: the discordant wailings of a band known as Pink Floyd (I've yet to ascertain what this 'floyd' is). Apparently some musicians of modern times appreciate my critique of the state and greedy kings. Looking at the word today, I see that —despite so many countries' vaunted democracy— little has changed since my living days...

Two princes sought a southern sky,
Why did they from their country fly?
How did the young prince, exiled long,
Win great renown when he was strong?

Where did the young prince lie concealed,
Who later quelled us on the field?
And how did she, the wanton one,
Give birth to a heroic son?
A brother struck the monarch down,
How, guilty, could he win renown?

Returning now with grief I sigh,
As lightning cleaves the evening sky.
No prayers to Heaven can avail,
If our self-respect should fail.
Pround kings are all on conquest bent;
If they repent, I'll rest content.