Caught in Snow, Lodging with a Host on Furong Mountain
Tang dynasty・Liu Changqing
Tang dynasty・Liu Changqing
At dusk the blue-gray mountains seem distant, in the bitter cold the plain white dwelling looks poor.
By the brushwood gate, a dog is heard barking,through wind and snow, someone returns at night。
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In the dusk, the vast, hazy mountains make the road seem distant; in the cold, the humble thatched hut before me looks poorer still. Suddenly a dog barks beside the brushwood gate: someone has come home through the snowy night.
芙蓉山: Mount Furong; its precise location is disputed. 苍山: mountains dark blue-green in the gathering dusk. 白屋: an unadorned thatched cottage, indicating a poor household.
柴门: a simple courtyard gate woven from brushwood. 夜归人: someone returning at night. Interpretations have long differed over whether this is the host returning home or the poet arriving to seek lodging; the translation leaves room for the narrative sense of “someone returning.”
Reading guide: This five-character quatrain records sights and sounds encountered while seeking lodging at a mountain home at dusk in wind and snow. The title establishes the traveler's circumstances, while the poem itself leaves only fragments of mountains, a house, a dog's bark, and a returning figure, inviting readers to fill in the night's stay themselves.
The first two lines depict distant scenery and nearby houses; “远” (far) and “贫” (poor) reveal both the hardship of travel and the simplicity of the household. The last two lines shift from sight to sound: a dog's barking comes first, and the returning person is then perceived.
The poem never directly states the comfort of finding shelter, yet the space inside and outside the brushwood gate creates a contrast between cold and human life. The figures’ unspecified identities also make the picture intriguing; it need not be forced into one definitive scene.
From a poem into a story
On the night before A-Sui moves to town, a young traveler seeking shelter from the snow arrives at a brushwood gate that will not quite close. Needlework and wood shavings beneath an oil lamp draw out the unspoken concerns of mother and son. Xu Shen hopes his craft will earn him stability, but a commission for a pharmacy door leaves his plane suspended between the patterns he has painstakingly carved and a door that ought to stand securely.
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