A Discussion in Outline of the Hidden Purport within Poetry論詩中微旨略言
夫詩以意爲主。設意尤難。綴辭次之。意亦以氣爲主。由氣之優劣。乃有深淺耳。然氣本乎天。不可學得。故氣之劣者。以雕文爲工。未嘗以意爲先也。蓋雕鏤其文。丹靑其句。信麗矣。然中無含蓄深厚之意。則初若可翫。至再嚼則味已窮矣。雖然。凡自先押韻。似若妨意。則改之可也。唯於和人之詩也。若有險韻。則先思韻之所安。然後措意也。至此寧且後其意耳。韻不可不安置也。句有難於對者。沈吟良久。想不能易得。則卽割棄不惜。宜矣。何者。計其間儻足得全篇。而豈可以一句之故。至一篇之遲滯哉。有及時備急則窘矣。方其搆思也。深入不出則陷。陷則着。着則迷。迷則有所執而不通也。惟其出入往來。左之右之。瞻前顧後。變化自在。而後無所礙而達于圓熟也。或有以後句救前句之弊。以一字助一句之安。此不可不思也。純用淸苦爲體。山人之格也。全以姸麗裝篇。宮掖之格也。惟能雜用淸警雄豪姸麗平淡然後備矣。而人不能以一體名之也。詩有九不宜體。是予所深思而自得之者也。一篇內多用古人之名。是載鬼盈車體也。攘取古人之意。善盜猶不可。盜亦不善。是拙盜易擒體也。押強韻無根據處。是挽弩不勝體也。不揆其才。押韻過差。是飮酒過量體也。好用險字。使人易惑。是設坑導盲體也。語未順而勉引用之。是強人從己體也。多用常語。是村父會談體也。好犯語忌。是凌犯尊貴體也。詞荒不删。是莨莠滿田體也。能免此不宜體格。而後可與言詩矣。人有言詩病者。在所可喜。所言可則從之。否則在吾意耳。何必惡聞。如人君拒諫終不知其過耶。凡詩成。反覆視之。略不以己之所著觀之。如見他人及平生深嫉者之詩。好覓其疵失。猶不知之。然後行之也。凡所論。不獨詩也。文亦幾矣。況古詩者。如以美文句斷押韻者佳矣。意旣優閑。語亦自在。得不至局束也。然則詩與文。亦一揆歟。
Now poetry takes meaning for its master, and to set up the meaning is hardest of all, while the weaving of words comes after. Meaning too takes the breath-force (氣) for its master, and according as the breath is the better or the worse there comes to be depth or shallowness. But the breath is rooted in Heaven, and so cannot be got by study. Therefore he whose breath is the worse makes a skill of carving at words and never puts meaning first. For the most part, if one chisels and inlays one's writing and paints one's phrases red and blue, it is truly fine. But if there is no deep and thick meaning held and heaped up within, it seems at first worth enjoying, yet when it comes to a second chewing the taste is already gone.
That being so, if a rhyme one has set down oneself beforehand looks likely to hinder the meaning, it is right to change it. Only in answering another man's poem, if there is a difficult rhyme, one first thinks of the place where the rhyme is to fall and then lodges the meaning in it. When it comes to this, one had rather put the meaning off than fail to set the rhyme down at ease.
If there is a phrase for which a matching couplet is hard to find, and it seems that long chanting will not easily get it, then one ought to cut it away at once and not grudge it. Why so? Reckon the while that goes between, and it is perhaps enough to get a whole piece; why should one come to delay a whole piece for the sake of a single line? And when the moment comes with something that must be made ready in haste, one is left straitened.
When one is just at the weaving of thought, then if one goes deep in and cannot come out one sinks; sinking, one sticks; sticking, one is bewildered; bewildered, one is held fast by something and does not get through. Only when one goes out and comes in, goes and returns, turns to the left and to the right, looks before and looks back behind, and is free in change — only then is there nothing that blocks one, and one comes to ripeness. There are times when a later line rescues the ailment of the line before it, and times when a single character helps a line to sit at ease; and these are not to be left unconsidered.
To make the form wholly of the clear and the bitter is the manner of the mountain man (山人); to deck a piece out altogether with the fair and the gorgeous is the manner of the palace. Only when one can use mingled together the clear and the startling, the grand and the unbridled, the fair and the gorgeous and the plain and bland, is it complete, and then men cannot name it by any single form.
There are nine forms unfitting in poetry, and this I got of myself by thinking deeply. To use many names of the men of old within a single piece is 「the form of a cart loaded full of ghosts」. As for stealing the meaning of the men of old, it is not right even when the stealing is well done; and not even to steal well is 「the form of the clumsy thief easily caught」. To press down a hard rhyme with nothing to rest upon is 「the form of drawing the crossbow and not mastering it」. To use rhymes beyond measure without weighing one's own gift is 「the form of drinking wine past one's capacity」. To be fond of using difficult characters so that men are easily bewildered is 「the form of digging a pit and leading the blind to it」. To drag words in by force when they are not smooth is 「the form of forcing another to follow oneself」. To use many common words is 「the form of village elders gathered in talk」. To delight in trespassing on what words forbid is 「the form of slighting the high and honorable」. Not to pare away words that are coarse is 「the form of tares filling the field」. Only when one can escape these unfitting forms and manners may one talk of poetry with another.
If there is one who speaks of the ailments of one's poem, it is a thing to rejoice at. If what he has said is right, follow it; if not, it rests with one's own purpose, and that is all. Why should one of necessity hate to hear it, like a lord who turns remonstrance away and never comes to know his own fault?
Whenever a poem is finished, look it over again and again, and do not for a moment look upon it as your own making, but as though you were looking at the poem of another, or of one whom you have hated deeply all your life, and be glad to hunt out its blemishes and faults. Only when even so you find nothing do you bring it out.
What has been discussed is not poetry alone: prose too is nearly the same. How much the more with what is called the old-style poem (古詩), which is fine when it is as though fine phrases had been cut off and a rhyme set to them. The meaning is then ample and at leisure, and the words too are free and do not come to be bound. If it be so, then are poetry and prose also of one principle?