126 t He siX Dy na s t i e s
a transcendent state in which a mystical union between nature and poet has taken
place, and the distinction between object and self has been all but obliterated.
The most impressive couplet of the poem (and undoubtedly the most often
quoted from Tao’s writings) is “Plucking chrysanthemums by the eastern hedge,
/ From afar I catch sight of the southern mountain.” The symbolic significance of
the acts of picking chrysanthemums and seeing the southern mountain have been
duly noted. While each act may be commonplace in the leisure of rustic life, their
coincidence makes the scene poignantly poetic. What makes this couplet even
more remarkable is its textual history: in certain Song editions of Tao’s works,
wang (to gaze from afar) appears as a variant for jian (to catch sight of ). The great
Song critic and writer Su Shi (1037–1101) was the first to argue passionately against
wang in favor of jian, positing the latter as key to the piece’s shenqi (inspired air).
Indeed, for critics following Su Shi’s reading, wang denotes a certain intentionality
that runs counter to the happy coincidence of jing (scene) and yi (idea), wherein
lies, for Su, the marvelous subtlety of the couplet.7 More recently, critics have dif-
ferentiated further between jian and xian (to appear; the line would then read: “At
a distance the southern mountain appears”), reducing even further the subjective
presence of the poet. It is possible that the late Qing critic Wang Guowei (1877–
1927) had this reading in mind when he remarked that this couplet describes wu
wo zhi jing (a selfless state), in which wu (object) and wo (self ) cannot be differen-
tiated from each other and “objects are seen through the perspective of objects”
(yi wu guan wu). This state, more difficult to create in poetry than one in which
the self is present (you wo zhi jing) and objects are seen through the perspective
of the self (yi wo guan wu), is a testimony of excellence of spirit and skill, as Wang
suggested.8
An intuitive engagement with nature occurs frequently in Tao’s farmstead
poetry. In “On Drinking Wine, No. 7,” the poet ponders the beauty and signifi-
cance of nature on an autumn dusk:
C 6. 3
On Drinking Wine, No. 7 飲酒 其七 (yĭn jŭ qí qī)
Autumn chrysanthemums have lovely colors; 秋菊有佳色 (qiū jú yŏu jiā sè)
2 I pluck the blossoms dampened with dew. 裛露掇其英 (yì lù duó qí yīng)
I float these in this Care Forgetting Thing 汎此忘憂物 (fàn cĭ wàng yōu wù)
4 To push away lingering thoughts of the world. 遠我遺世情 (yuăn wŏ yí shì qíng)
Although I drink this cup alone, 一觴雖獨進 (yì shāng suī dú jìn)
6 When it empties, I’ll pour the next one too. 杯盡壺自傾 (bēi jìn hú zì qīng)
At sunset, all movement comes to a rest, 日入群動息 (rì rù qún dòng xī)
8 Homing birds chirp as they return to their grove. 歸鳥趨林鳴 (guī niăo qū lín míng)
I whistle complacently from the eastern veranda, 嘯傲東軒下 (xiào ào dōng xuān xià)
10 Somehow having found my life again. 聊復得此生 (liáo fù dé cĭ shēng)
[TYMJJJ, 224]