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墨書 Inktalez
Bamboo Lodge
Author: Wang Wei
Poem Title: Bamboo Lodge
Sitting alone in the deep bamboo grove,
I play the lute and let out a long whistle.
In the deep forest, no one knows,
Only the bright moon comes to shine on me.
Explanation of the Poem:
This poem was written by Wang Wei, a poet from the Tang Dynasty. It expresses the poet's leisurely life of playing the lute and singing alone in the bamboo forest, reflecting a transcendent state of mind.
"Sitting alone in the deep bamboo grove": The poet sits alone in the tranquil bamboo forest, which signifies a serene atmosphere isolated from the world.
"I play the lute and let out a long whistle": The poet plays the lute while also letting out a long whistle; "and" indicates an addition, while "long whistle" is an ancient way for scholars to express their emotions, showcasing the poet's inner freedom and detachment.
"In the deep forest, no one knows": In this dense bamboo grove, outsiders are unaware of the poet's existence, enhancing his sense of solitude from the outside world.
"Only the bright moon comes to shine on me": Only the bright moon passes through the trees to illuminate the poet; "shine on me" means that the moonlight not only lights up his physical presence but also his inner world, providing him with a tranquil companionship.
The entire poem conveys a transcendent attitude toward life and a love for natural beauty through its depiction of the poet's life scene in the bamboo forest. The profound meaning contained within is expressed in concise yet philosophical language, making it a typical representation of Wang Wei's landscape and pastoral poetry.
Story: The Sound of Lute in the Depths of Bamboo Forest
1
My dwelling is hidden in a valley. The dense bamboo grove serves as my barrier from the hustle and bustle of life.
Deep within the bamboo forest lies a simple bamboo house.
The cabin was spotless, with bamboo furniture exuding a faint fragrance. I pursue a simple and unadorned life. Sunlight filtered through the window panes, casting dappled patterns inside. I sat quietly by the window, savoring the aroma of tea and the warmth of the sun. In this moment, my state of mind mirrored the tranquility of the valley—serene and peaceful. I am a poet, and my talent is the light of my life. In the quiet bamboo grove, I found inspiration for my creations. The gentle mountain breeze and the chirping of birds in the forest are the sources of my poetry.
In a secluded valley, there is a dense bamboo forest, deep within which lies a simple bamboo house. This is my retreat. Here, I engage in literary and philosophical discussions with my friend Li Han, exploring the meaning of life and our perceptions of nature. The environment around the bamboo house is tranquil and beautiful, surrounded by lush green bamboo. In the distance, rolling mountains can be seen, shrouded in mist, while a clear mountain stream flows past the front of the cabin, adding vitality to this place.
By the stream in front of the bamboo house, Li Han and I sat on the ground, each holding a book in hand, quietly reading while occasionally looking up at the sky to admire the beauty of nature. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the bamboo leaves, casting a golden glow upon us. A gentle breeze rustled through the bamboo grove, and the stream produced a crisp tinkling sound; all of this brought greater peace to my heart. In such an environment, we could not only immerse ourselves in a sea of knowledge but also enjoy the solace that nature provides.
Whenever I read an exquisite line, I cannot help but marvel at the wisdom and talent of ancient scholars. I strive for a realm where poetry and nature intertwine, hoping that my poetry can cleanse people's souls like the mountain stream flowing through this valley.
Li Han often comes here to exchange thoughts with me. He is knowledgeable and has unique insights into literature and philosophy. Our conversations frequently spark new inspirations and ideas. This spiritual exchange deepens our mutual understanding and trust. In this secluded valley, we are far from the hustle and bustle, drawing closer to nature. By the stream in front of the bamboo house, we hold books in our hands, feeling the rhythm of nature as we swim in the ocean of knowledge.
At night, the moonlight spills across the land in the bamboo forest. I sit alone in the bamboo house, gently playing the guqin in my hands. As I play, the sound of the instrument resonates with my soaring cry, echoing through the quiet woods. My state of mind is like this tranquil night, serene and detached, as if I have merged with nature itself. The guqin in my hands is both a refuge for my soul and a symbol of my pursuit of transcendence.
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