Song of the Stone Drums
English translation and interpretation are being reviewed.
劝我试作石鼓歌。
少陵无人谪仙死，
才薄将奈石鼓何。
周纲凌迟四海沸，
宣王愤起挥天戈。
大开明堂受朝贺，
诸侯剑佩鸣相磨。
蒐于岐阳骋雄俊，
万里禽兽皆遮罗。
镌功勒成告万世，
凿石作鼓隳嵯峨。
从臣才艺咸第一，
拣选撰刻留山阿。
雨淋日炙野火燎，
鬼物守护烦撝呵。
公从何处得纸本，
毫发尽备无差讹。
辞严义密读难晓，
字体不类隶与蝌。
年深岂免有缺画，
快剑斫断生蛟鼍。
鸾翔凤翥众仙下，
珊瑚碧树交枝柯。
金绳铁索锁钮壮，
古鼎跃水龙腾梭。
陋儒编诗不收入，
二雅褊迫无委蛇。
孔子西行不到秦，
掎摭星宿遗羲娥。
嗟余好古生苦晚，
对此涕泪双滂沱。
忆昔初蒙博士征，
其年始改称元和。
故人从军在右辅，
为我度量掘臼科。
濯冠沐浴告祭酒，
如此至宝存岂多。
毡包席裹可立致，
十鼓只载数骆驼。
荐诸太庙比郜鼎，
光价岂止百倍过。
圣恩若许留太学，
诸生讲解得切磋。
观经鸿都尚填咽，
坐见举国来奔波。
剜苔剔藓露节角，
安置妥帖平不颇。
大厦深檐与盖覆，
经历久远期无佗。
中朝大官老于事，
讵肯感激徒媕婀。
牧童敲火牛砺角，
谁复著手为摩挲。
日销月铄就埋没，
六年西顾空吟哦。
羲之俗书趁姿媚，
数纸尚可博白鹅。
继周八代争战罢，
无人收拾理则那。
方今太平日无事，
柄任儒术崇丘轲。
安能以此尚论列，
愿借辩口如悬河。
石鼓之歌止于此，
呜呼吾意其蹉跎。
English translation
Zhang holds in hand the text of the Stone Drums, and urges me to try making a Song of the Stone Drums.
Shaoling is gone, the Banished Immortal is dead; my talent is slight — what can I do with the Stone Drums?
The bonds of Zhou slackened and the four seas boiled; King Xuan rose in wrath and brandished the heavenly spear.
He threw wide the Bright Hall to receive the court's homage; the swords and pendants of the feudal lords clashed and ground together.
He hunted at Qiyang, giving rein to his brave steeds; for ten thousand leagues birds and beasts were all caught in the nets.
He carved his merit, engraved his achievement, to declare it to ten thousand ages; he hewed the stone into drums, cutting down the towering crags.
The talents of his attending ministers were all of the first rank; chosen to compose and to carve, they left them on the mountain slope.
Drenched by rain, scorched by sun, swept by wildfire; spirits and demons keep watch, troubling themselves to ward and to shout.
Where did you get this paper rubbing? Every hair's-breadth complete, without a single error.
The wording is austere, the meaning dense, hard to read; the script resembles neither the clerical nor the tadpole form.
Through such depth of years how could it escape broken strokes? — like a swift sword hacked through living dragons and alligators.
Phoenixes soaring, the immortals descending; coral and jade-green trees interlacing branch and bough.
Golden cords and iron chains, the locks stout and strong; the ancient tripod leaping from the water, the dragon mounting the shuttle.
The shallow scholars who compiled the Songs did not take it in; the two Ya are narrow and cramped, without the grand flowing manner.
Confucius journeyed west but never reached Qin; he culled the constellations and left out the sun and moon.
Alas, I love antiquity yet was born grievously late; facing these, my tears pour down in floods.
I recall of old when first I was summoned to be a Doctor; that year the reign-title was first changed to Yuanhe.
An old friend, serving in the army at Youfu, for my sake measured and dug out the socket-holes.
I rinsed my cap and bathed, and told the Libationer: such a supreme treasure — how many can be left?
Wrapped in felt and matting they could be brought at once; the ten drums would load but a few camels.
Offered in the Grand Temple, ranked with the tripod of Gao, their glory and worth would exceed it a hundredfold and more.
If the sage's grace allowed them to stay in the Imperial College, the students could expound and study them together.
Those who came to view the classics at Hongdu still thronged the gates; at once the whole realm would come hurrying.
Scrape the moss, pick out the lichen, and the joints and corners appear; set them in place, firm and level, not aslant.
A great hall with deep eaves to cover them over; through the long years to come, may no harm befall.
The high officials at court are hardened in affairs; how should they be moved? They only hem and haw.
Herdboys strike fire from them, cattle sharpen their horns on them; who again will put a hand to stroke them?
Worn by days, melted by months, they sink into oblivion; for six years I have gazed westward and chanted in vain.
Xizhi's vulgar writing, courting a pretty grace — a few sheets of it could still win a white goose.
The eight dynasties after Zhou ended in war upon war; no one gathered them up — and what is to be done?
Now at last there is peace, and days without troubles; power rests with the Confucian arts, honoring Qiu and Ke.
How can I bring this forward for debate? I would borrow a pleading mouth like a falling river.
The Song of the Stone Drums ends here — alas, my hopes will come to nothing.
Meaning
Zhang holds in his hand a rubbing of the stone-drum inscription of the Zhou, and urges me to write a Stone Drum Song in praise of it.
Du Fu and Li Bai, whose talents covered the age, are both long dead; a man of slender gifts faces the stone drums and can do nothing.
The Zhou court declined and the whole realm fell into turmoil; King Xuan of Zhou roused himself, raised his troops, and lifted the heavenly spear.
At the celebration he threw open the Hall of Light to receive homage; the feudal lords came in an endless train, their swords and pendants clashing and grinding.
How splendid was King Xuan's hunt at Qiyang; the beasts of all four quarters had nowhere to hide and were all netted.
To carve heroic deeds on stone and make their fame last ten thousand ages, they cut the mountain rock, carved the stone drums, and shattered the towering crags.
The ministers in his train were the finest talents in the world; the best were chosen to write the inscription, carved and set upon the hillside.
Though for long years rain has beaten and sun burned and wild fires scorched them, guarded by gods and spirits the stone drums are never lost.
Where did you get the original from which this rubbing was made? It is complete in the slightest detail, without a single error.
Words
Background
Read the background
This poem was written in 811, the sixth year of the Yuanhe era of Emperor Xianzong of Tang. The Stone Drum inscriptions are China's earliest stone carvings and were made in the Qin dynasty, though Han Yu believed them to be the work of King Xuan of Zhou. In the eyes of the court they were nothing but a few moss-covered old objects, so that their fate could hardly be mentioned in the same breath as the bronze ritual vessels yielded up by the commanderies and principalities. Saddened by the neglect of these stone drums, Han Yu wrote the long poem "Song of the Stone Drums."