Driving Out the Poetry Demon (詩魔)驅詩魔文
夫累土而崇曰丘陵。瀦水而濬曰溝井。其或木也石也屋宇也墻壁也。是皆天地間無情之物。鬼或憑焉。騁怪見妖。則人莫不疾而忌之。且呪且驅。甚者夷丘陵塞溝井。斬木椎石。壞屋滅墻而後已。人猶是焉。厥初質樸無文。渟厚正直。及溺之於詩。妖其說怪其辭。舞物眩人。可駭也。此非他故。職魔之由。吾以是敢數其罪而驅之曰。人始之生。鴻荒樸略。不賁不華。猶花未萼。錮聰塗明。猶竅未鑿。孰閽其門。以挺厥鑰。魔爾來闖。酋然此託。耀世眩人。或髹或𦣒。舞幻騁奇。勃屑翕霍。或媚而㜨。筋柔骨弱。或震而聲。風豗浪𢶉。世不爾壯。胡踊且躍。人不汝功。胡務刻削。是汝之罪一也。地尙乎靜。天難可名。昒乎造化。䁳若神明。沌沌而漠。渾渾而冥。機開閟邃。且鐍且扃。汝不是思。偵深諜靈。發洩幾微。搪突不停。出脅兮月病。穿心兮天驚。神爲之不悆。天爲之不平。以汝之故。薄人之生。是汝之罪二也。雲霞之英。月露之粹。蟲魚之奇。鳥獸之異。與夫芽抽萼敷。草木花卉。千態萬貌。繁天麗地。汝取之無愧。十不一棄。一矚一吟。雜然坌至。攢羅戢孨。無有窮已。汝之不廉。天地所忌。是汝之罪三也。遇敵卽攻。胡礮胡壘。有喜於人。不衮而賁。有慍於人。不刃而刺。爾柄何鉞。惟戰伐是恣。爾握何權。惟賞罰是肆。爾非肉食。謀及國事。爾非侏儒。嘲弄萬類。施施而夸。挺挺自異。孰不猜爾。孰不憎爾。是汝之罪四也。汝著於人。如病如疫。體垢頭蓬。鬚童形腊。苦人之聲。矉人之額。耗人之精神。剝人之胸膈。惟患之媒。惟和之賊。是汝之罪五也。負此五罪。胡憑人爲。憑於陳思。凌兄以馳。豆泣釜中。果困于箕。憑於李白。簸作顚狂。捉月而去。江水茫茫。憑於杜甫。狼狽行藏。羈離幽抑。客死耒陽。憑於李賀。誕幻怪奇。才不偶世。夭死其宜。憑於夢得。譏詆權近。偃蹇落拓。卒躓不振。憑於子厚。鼓動禍機。謫柳不返。誰其爲悲。嗟乎爾魔。爾形何乎。歷誤幾人。又鍾於吾。自汝之來。萬狀崎嶇。悗然如忘。戇然如愚。如瘖如聵。形熱跡拘。不知飽渴之逼體。不覺寒暑之侵膚。婢怠莫詰。奴頑罔圖。園翳不薙。屋痡不扶。窮鬼之來。亦汝之呼。傲貴凌富。放與慢俱。言高不遜。面強不婾。着色易惑。當酒益麤。是實汝使。豈予心歟。狺狺吠怪。寔繁有徒。我故疾汝。且呪且驅。汝不速遁。搜汝以誅。是夕疲臥而枕上騷。窣然有聲。若色袖文裳而煌煌者卽而告余曰。甚矣。子之訧我也斥我也。何疾我之如斯。我雖魔之微。亦上帝所知。始汝之生。帝遣我以隨。汝孩而赤。亦潛宅而不離。汝童而丱。竊竊以窺。汝壯而幘。騫騫以追。雄子以氣。飾子以辭。場屋較藝。連年中之。欻天動地。名聲四飛。列侯貴戚。聳望風姿。是則我之輔汝不薄。天之豐汝不貲。惟口之出。惟身之持。惟色之適。惟酒之歸。是各有使。非吾所尸。子胡不愼。以狂以癡。實子之咎。非予之疵。居士於是。是今非昨。局縮忸怩。磬折以拜。迎之爲師。
Earth heaped up high is called a mound; water gathered by digging is called a ditch or a well. And trees, stones, houses, walls — all of these are things without feeling, between heaven and earth. Yet when a spirit lodges in one of them and works strange deeds and shows baleful things, there is no one who does not hate it and shun it, curse it and drive it out. In bad cases they do not stop until the mound has been torn down, the ditch and the well filled in, the tree felled, the stone smashed, the house pulled down and the wall done away with. It is the same with men. At first a man is plain and unadorned, warm-hearted and upright; but once he falls into poetry his words turn baleful and his writing turns strange, so that he mocks at things and bewitches people, which is a thing to be startled at. This has no other cause: it is the demon's doing. For this reason I dare to count up its crimes and drive it out, and I say this.
When a man is first born he is dim and plain, neither adorned nor splendid, like a flower that has not yet put out its calyx; his ears are stopped and his eyes covered, like an opening not yet bored through. Who was it that, keeping watch at that gate, drew out its lock? You, demon, came and spied, and then lodged here as though you were the head of the house. You make a show in the world and bewitch people; you turn things red and turn them black; you dance out conjurings and work marvels, rising up all at once and vanishing in an instant. Now you are lovely and alluring, soft of sinew and weak of bone; now you sound like thunder, as though wind were striking and waves beating. The world does not think you grand — why then do you leap and leap again? People do not acknowledge your merit — why then do you labor at your paring and polishing? This is your first crime.
The earth honors stillness, and heaven is hard to put a name to. Dimly they bring forth all things, and like the divine they are blurred. Mingled together they are far off; blurred, they are dark. The mechanism is shut away in secret, locked and barred besides. You give no thought to this, but spy upon what is deep and pry into what is numinous, leaking out the hidden signs and never ceasing to batter at them. When you bring it out the moon sickens; when you bore through, heaven takes fright. The spirits are not pleased because of this, and heaven is not at ease because of this. By your fault the lives of men are made harsh. This is your second crime.
The corollas of cloud and sunset glow, the essence of moon and dew, the strangeness of insects and fishes, the singularity of birds and beasts, and the thousand postures and ten thousand shapes of grasses and trees and flowers that sprout and open their calyxes — all these flourish in the sky and are fair upon the earth. You take them without shame and do not throw away even one in ten. See once, and you chant once; they crowd in confusedly and gather and pile up without end. That you are not disinterested is a thing heaven and earth shun. This is your third crime.
Meeting an enemy you strike at once — how is it that you are like a stone crossbow, like a rampart? When you would please a man you make him shine though it be no dragon robe; when you are angry at a man you stab him though it be no blade. What axe is it that you hold, that you fight and strike just as you please? What power is it that you grasp, that you reward and punish at your own whim? You are no meat-eating officeholder, yet you plot the business of the state; you are no dwarf jester, yet you make sport of every sort of company. You boast and preen, and stiffly call yourself extraordinary — so who does not envy you, and who does not hate you? This is your fourth crime.
When you fasten on a man you are like a sickness, like a plague. His body gathers grime, his hair tangles, his beard falls out and his body wastes away. You make a man's voice painful and his brow furrow; you consume a man's spirit and strip a man's breast bare. You are nothing but the go-between of care, nothing but the thief of peace. This is your fifth crime.
Bearing these five crimes, how is it that you still fasten on men? You fastened on the King of Chensi (陳思王) and made him slight his elder brother and run — the beans wept in the cauldron, and in the end he was put to shame over the bean-stalks. You fastened on Li Bai and made him reckless and mad — he went off to catch the moon, and the river waters were far and dim. You fastened on Du Fu, and in his ruin, in his going forward and his drawing back, he drifted and was blocked and died a stranger's death at Leiyang (耒陽). You fastened on Li He (李賀) and made him empty and grotesque — his talent did not fit the world, and it was fitting that he died young. You fastened on Mengde (夢得) and made him scold and revile the men of power — stiff and fallen away, he toppled at last and never rose again. You fastened on Zihou (子厚) and shook loose the springs of calamity for him — he was banished to Liuzhou (柳州) and never came back. Who is there to grieve for him?
Ah, you demon — what manner of thing are you, that you have ruined so many men and have now gathered upon me? Since you came, ten thousand shapes have turned rough and steep: I am blank as though I had forgotten, as though I were a fool; as though mute and as though deaf; my body burns and my footsteps are bound. I do not know that hunger and thirst press upon my body, nor feel that cold and heat soak into my skin. The maidservant is idle and I cannot scold her; the manservant is stubborn and I can do nothing with him; the garden grows rank and I do not cut it; the house falls down and I do not prop it up. That the demon of poverty comes is also your summoning. I am haughty to the noble and slight the well-off, and wantonness and sloth go together in me. My words are lofty and not humble, my face is hard and will not flatter; meeting a woman's beauty I am easily bewitched, and meeting wine I grow the more unruly. This is truly what you have made me do — how should it be my own heart? The crowd that growls and barks that I am strange is very great indeed. Therefore I hate you and curse you and drive you out as well; and if you do not flee at once, I shall hunt you out and cut you down.
That evening I lay down worn out, and there was a noise by my pillow and then a rustling sound. Something glittering in colored sleeves and a patterned skirt came up and spoke to me: "This is too much — that you should blame me and cast me out! Why do you hate me so? Lowly demon though I am, I too am known to the Lord on High. When you were first born, the Lord on High sent me to follow you. When you were a newborn and still red I lodged in you unseen and never left; when you were a shock-haired child I watched you quietly; and when you grew up and put on the headcloth I followed you lightly about. I made you stout in spirit and adorned you with words, so that you contended in talent in the examination hall and were chosen year after year. All at once you moved heaven and shook earth, and your fame flew to the four quarters, so that the great lords and the royal kin looked up in admiration at your bearing. This is to say that what I have helped you to is not little, and what heaven has granted you in abundance cannot be measured. Only what comes out of your mouth, and what you carry upon your body, and your going after women, and your turning to wine — each of these has something else that prompts it, and they are not in my charge. Why then are you not careful, but mad and foolish? It is truly your own fault, and no flaw of mine."
At this the Hermit understood that today was right and yesterday wrong, and shrinking back in shame he bent his body like a chime-stone and bowed, and received the demon as his teacher.
Interlinear notes 1
效退之送窮文
Modeled on Han Tuizhi's (韓退之) "Sending Off Poverty" (送窮文).