李白是谁?
Who was Li Bai? China’s poet of the moon
Name: ________________ Date: ________
Key words
| Word | Pinyin | Meaning |
|---|---|---|
| 同一 | tóngyì | same; identical |
| 低头 | dītóu | to lower one's head |
| 故乡 | gùxiāng | hometown; native place |
| 诗 | shī | poem; poetry; verse |
| 诗人 | shīrén | poet |
| 时期 | shíqī | period; time; era |
| 流传 | liúchuán | to spread; to circulate; to hand down |
| 悄悄 | qiāoqiāo | quietly; secretly |
| 据说 | jùshuō | it is said; reportedly |
| 称 | chēng | to state; to say |
| 天上 | tiānshàng | in the sky; in heaven |
| 四处 | sìchù | everywhere; all around |
English (for the teacher)
In China, the first poem a great many children learn by heart is the same one:
Before my bed the bright moonlight; I took it for frost upon the ground. I raise my head to gaze at the bright moon, and lower it to think of home.
The poem is called Quiet Night Thought and has only twenty characters in all: unable to sleep at night, you see moonlight before your bed and take it for a layer of frost on the ground; you look up at the moon, then lower your head and remember your home far away. Its author is the Tang dynasty poet Li Bai.
Interestingly, the version you read in Japanese textbooks is a little different: “Before my bed I watch the moonlight” and “I raise my head to gaze at the mountain moon”. The collections of Li Bai’s poems that survive from the Song dynasty read the same way. The “bright moon” we know today was probably a change made in the Ming and Qing. Over more than a thousand years even the poem’s words quietly changed, but people’s love for it hasn’t changed at all.
Li Bai was born in 701 AD, generally thought to be in Central Asia, and as a child moved with his family to what is now Sichuan. As a young man he studied and practised the sword, and in his twenties he left home to wander far and wide. It is said that when he reached Chang’an, the old poet He Zhizhang read his poems in astonishment and called him a “banished immortal”, a god sent down from heaven to the human world.
Later Emperor Xuanzong invited him to court to work at the Hanlin Academy. Plenty of stories are told about his time at the palace: once, they say, he got drunk and had Gao Lishi, the most powerful eunuch at the emperor’s side, pull off his boots for him. These stories may not all be true, but Li Bai’s wild nature and refusal to bow his head really did mean he couldn’t stay at court for long. In less than two years he left Chang’an and went back to roaming.
In 744 Li Bai met Du Fu, eleven years his junior, and the two became good friends, drinking and writing poems together. Today they are seen as China’s two greatest poets: one is called the Immortal of Poetry, the other the Sage of Poetry.
Li Bai’s last years were not easy. During the An Lushan rebellion he joined the forces of Prince Yong, was thrown into prison and nearly executed, then was exiled to distant Yelang, and was pardoned only halfway there. He died in Dangtu in 762. There is also a beautiful legend that Li Bai, drunk on a boat, reached out to scoop up the moon in the water, fell into the river and never came back.
Li Bai left about a thousand poems. He wrote about wine, mountains and rivers, and friends, but what he wrote about most was perhaps the moon. So next time you look up and see a bright moon, you can say a line of it too: “I raise my head to gaze at the bright moon, and lower it to think of home.”