Wiping the Dust at the Five-Hundred-Stone Grotto Heaven, Vol. 5

There is no "family" an allusion to lacking a home base, selling essays alone. Only the fifth poem slightly reveals the true intention; the preceding and following ones are all subtle and unrevealing. Like going, like returning; like weeping, like complaining; like listening to the mournful horn in the frosty sky, silently thinking. Like transmitting the sound of the "He Man" melody, ending abruptly. Ancient people said the wonder of the Li Sao a classic poem by Qu Yuan lies in the words "parting" (li) and "sorrow" (sao). I say these poems, which cannot be cut, their logic tangled, also correctly arise from learning the Li Sao.

The ancients said that words are the sound of the heart. If so, then rhythmic writing is the sound of the sound of words. It is also said that if words have no literary value, they will not travel far; if they do not ring well, those who hear them will not produce a sound. The good "ringers" of the past—like birds in spring, thunder in summer, insects in autumn, and wind in winter—all had an inevitable impetus. Thus, when happy, they were melodious and flowing; when sad, they were poignant and lingering, naturally becoming wonderful writing. This is called "speech rooted in the heart." By using words to speak of words, the heart is spoken through the words; the true meaning is preserved and the living spirit emerges. Modern people are not as good as the ancients, precisely because they know there is a sound of words, but do not know there is a sound of the heart.

Shangqiu Hou a literary figure, in his Si-Yi Hall Collection, wrote for his younger brother's birthday: "Your younger brother is over twenty this year; his style is exactly like Lu Ji a famous poet in his youth. Returning to Wu, he cannot be called a young gentleman; entering Luoyang, he should only ride in a calf-cart."