anC i e n t-s t y l e Sh i P oe t ry : C on t i nuat ion anD C Hang e s 229ing person who can apply his vision in this way. This mode of seeing realizes the
interdependence between the perspicacious seer and the hidden object, and so en-
acts—if in a limited way—the ideal dissolution of the boundary between self and
world.
The contrast between the two types of vision, guan and jian, is echoed through-
out the poem in a series of antitheses, all of which resonate with related spiri-
tual and moral connotations: between unimpeded “movement” (xing [ line 4])5
and “boundedness” (ju [ line 9]); between the “ancients” (gu [ line 5]) and “worldly
people” (shi ren [ line 9]); between the alchemical substances (dan) described in
mystical texts and mere wine (jiu [ line 10]); and between “fathoming” (ce [ line 8])
and “laughing” (xiao [ line 10]). This web of contrasts, the elements of which all
point to the rift between the enlightened ancients and the muddled people of
his own time, are never presented in parallel couplets, as they might have been
in regulated verse. Rather, these contrasts are dispersed throughout the poem,
coming together only in lines 9 and 10, near the end.
The effect is one of flow rather than symmetry, open-endedness rather than
containment, qualities that are typically associated with the ancient style. This par-
ticular form is also wonderfully appropriate for the object being described, recall-
ing as it does the movement and transformations of the dragon and, even more
significantly, the element of change that is at the heart of the hexagrams and the
world they are thought to embody. And the form has one other especially apposite
effect; apprehension of this pattern in the poem demands of the reader the same
discernment as that displayed by the poet when he beholds the ever-changing,
now-hidden dragon in the world before his eyes. Chen Zi’ang’s message, then, is
clear: to grasp the “Obscure,” the pattern and movement of the Dao, we cannot rely
on the images that appear before our fleshly eyes. If one is to ascend to the heights
of Kunlun, the mountain of the immortals, and there pluck the blossoms of the
“jasper tree” of longevity, one cannot afford to mock the knowledge contained in
the alchemical guidebooks.
This poem’s theme is perfectly suited to the ancient style, a style that favors
discursive language and downplays perception as a mode of understanding. In
keeping with his strong preference for direct assertions, Chen Zi’ang couches his
observations in a language of plainspoken elegance, which complements the ab-
struseness of his imagery. The syntax is straightforward throughout, and the use
of intensifiers such as naishi (line 2) and xin (line 6), along with the rhetorical
questions posed in lines 8 and 12, draw attention to the poet’s presence both as a
witness to this invisible scene and as a speaker to his readers. His “I” is there, in the
first line, beseeching us to share in his vision, speaking to us in five-character lines
that, while classic and balanced (commanding the authority of early shi poetry), are
enlivened by enjambment and lack of symmetry.
As for his use of tones, Chen Zi’ang not only avoids any semblance of tonal regu-
lation in this couplet but also thwarts the normative preference for contrasting
tones, choosing the third and fourth characters of both lines from the rising-tone
category. This choice, imposed on what practitioners of regulated poetry viewed