Chwiyu Bubyeokjeonggi — A Drunken Outing at Bubyeok Pavilion醉遊浮碧亭記
平壤，古朝鮮國也。周武王克商，訪箕子，陣洪範九疇之法，武王封于此地，而不臣也。其勝地，則錦繡山，鳳凰臺，綾羅島，麒麟窟，朝天石，楸南墟，皆古跡，而永明寺浮碧亭，其一也。永明寺，卽東明王九梯宮也。在郭外東北卄里，俯瞰長江，遠矚平原，一望無際，眞勝境也。畵舸商舶，晩泊于大同門外之柳磯，留則必泝流而上，縱觀于此，極歡而旋。亭之南，有鍊石層梯，左曰靑雲梯，右曰白雲梯，刻之于石，立華柱，以爲好事者玩。
Pyeongyang is the land of the old kingdom of Joseon. When King Wu of Zhou defeated Shang, he called on Gija (箕子), and Gija set forth the law of the Great Plan in Nine Divisions (洪範九疇). King Wu enfeoffed him in this land and did not make him a subject.
Its finest places are Geumsusan, Bonghwangdae, Neungnado, Giringul, Jocheonseok and Chunamheo, all of them ancient traces, and Bubyeokjeong of Yeongmyeongsa is one of them.
Yeongmyeongsa is the Gujegung (九梯宮) of King Dongmyeong. It stands twenty li to the northeast outside the walls. It looks down on the long river and out over the far plain, and in a single view there is no end to it. It is truly a splendid place.
Painted boats and merchant ships moor at dusk by the willow landing outside Daedongmun. Those who stay always row up against the current, look their fill here, take their pleasure to the full, and then turn back.
South of the pavilion are terraced steps cut from stone. The left is called Cheongunje (靑雲梯) and the right Baegunje (白雲梯). The names were carved in the stone and ornamental pillars were set up, so that those who love such things might look at them.
天順初，松京有富室洪生，年少美姿容，有風度，又善屬文。値中秋望，與同伴，抱布貿絲于箕城，泊舟艤岸。城中名娼，皆出闉闍，而目成焉。城中有故友李生，設宴以慰生，酣醉回舟，夜凉無寐，忽憶張繼楓橋夜泊之詩，不勝淸興，乘小艇，載月打槳而上，期興盡而返，至則浮碧亭下也。繫纜蘆叢，躡梯而登，憑軒一望，朗吟淸嘯，時月色如海，波光如練，雁呌汀沙，鶴驚松露，凜然如登淸虛紫府也。顧視故都，烟籠粉堞，浪打孤城，有麥秀殷墟之歎，乃作詩六首曰：
Early in the Tianshun (天順) era there was Scholar Hong (洪生) of a rich house in Songgyeong. He was young and beautiful of face, he had an air about him, and he wrote well.
At the full moon of mid-autumn he went with his companions, carrying cloth to trade for silk at Giseong (箕城), and they moored the boat and tied it to the bank. The famous courtesans of the city all came out beyond the gate, and they and he spoke their feeling with their eyes.
In the city was an old friend, Scholar Yi, who set out a feast to console him. Scholar Hong drank himself deep and came back to the boat, but the night was cool and sleep would not come. All at once he thought of Zhang Ji's poem Fengqiao yebo (楓橋夜泊), and he could not master his clear delight. He took a small boat, loaded the moon aboard, and rowed upstream, meaning to turn back when his delight was spent. When he came there, it was below Bubyeokjeong.
He tied the rope to a clump of reeds, climbed the steps, leaned on the railing and looked out, and he chanted aloud and whistled clear and long. At that time the moonlight was like a sea and the light on the waves like white silk. Geese called on the sand at the water's edge and cranes started at the dew on the pines, and he felt lofty, as if he had climbed to a purple abode of the clear void.
He looked back at the old capital. Mist wrapped the white battlements and waves beat against the lonely wall, and he sighed the sigh of "the barley grows tall on the ruins of Yin." So he made six poems.
不堪吟上浿江亭，嗚咽江流腸斷聲。故國已銷龍虎氣，荒城猶帶鳳凰形。汀沙月白迷歸雁，庭草烟收點露螢。風景蕭條人事換，寒山寺裏聽鐘鳴。
I could not bear it, and climbed the pavilion by the Paegang (浿江) to chant; the river sobs as it flows, with a sound that cuts the heart. In the old kingdom the breath of dragon and tiger has melted away; the ruined walls still keep the shape of a phoenix. On the sand by the water the moon is white, and the homing geese lose their way; in the courtyard grass the mist lifts, and dewy fireflies dot the dark. The scene is desolate and the affairs of men are changed; inside Hanshansi (寒山寺) I hear the bell ring.
帝宮秋草冷凄凄，回磴雲遮徑轉迷。妓館故基荒薺合，女墻殘月夜烏啼。風流勝事成塵土，寂寞空城蔓蒺藜。唯有江波依舊咽，滔滔流向海門西。
In the palace of the king the autumn grass is cold and forlorn; clouds hide the winding stone steps, and the path grows lost. On the old ground of the courtesans' houses wild shepherd's purse has closed over; on the battlements, under the waning moon, the night crows cry. The fine things of that gay life have become dust and earth; in the silent empty city the caltrop runs wild. Only the waves of the river sob as they did before, rolling on and on toward the sea gate in the west.
浿江之水碧於藍，千古興亡恨不堪。金井水枯垂薜荔，石壇苔蝕擁檉楠。異鄕風月詩千首，故國情懷酒半酣。月白依軒眠不得，夜深香桂落毿毿。
The water of the Paegang is bluer than indigo; I cannot bear my grief at a thousand years of rise and fall. The golden well has run dry, and ivy hangs down into it; moss has eaten the stone altar, and tamarisk and nanmu hold it in their arms. In a strange district, wind and moon bring a thousand poems; with the old kingdom in my heart the wine is half at its height. The moon is white, I lean on the railing and cannot sleep; the night deepens, and the fragrant cassia falls, drifting and soft.
中秋月色正嬋娟，一望孤城一悵然。箕子廟庭喬木老，檀君祠壁女蘿緣。英雄寂寞今何在，草樹依稀問幾年。唯有昔時端正月，淸光流彩照衣邊。
The moonlight of mid-autumn is truly lovely; one look at the lonely city, and I am sadder still. In the courtyard of Gija's shrine the tall trees have grown old; on the wall of Dangun's shrine the dodder vines are tangled. The heroes are gone into silence. Where are they now? The grass and trees are dim. I ask how many years it has been. Only that upright moon of the old days pours its clear light and shines on the edge of my robe.
月出東山烏鵲飛，夜深寒露襲人衣。千年文物衣冠盡，萬古山河城郭非。聖帝朝天今不返，閑談落世竟誰依。金轝麟馬無行迹，輦路草荒僧獨歸。
The moon rises over the eastern hill and the crows and magpies fly; the night deepens, and cold dew soaks a man's clothes. A thousand years of culture, of robe and cap, are spent; in the hills and rivers of all ages the walls are not what they were. The holy king went to court in heaven and does not come back now; if idle talk falls to the world, on whom in the end can it lean? The golden carriage and the girin horse have left no track; grass runs wild on the royal road, and only a monk goes home.
庭草秋寒玉露凋，靑雲橋對白雲橋。隋家士卒隨鳴瀨，帝子精靈化怨蜩。馳道烟埋香輦絶，行宮松偃暮鐘搖。登高作賦誰同賞，月白風淸興未消。
The courtyard grass withers in the autumn cold under jade dew; Cheongungyo faces Baegungyo. The soldiers of Sui followed the sounding rapids; the soul of the king's son turned into a bitter cicada. Mist has buried the royal road (馳道), and the fragrant carriage comes no more; the pines of the travelling palace lie bent, and the evening bell sways. I climb high and make a rhapsody, but with whom shall I share it? The moon is white, the wind is clear, and my delight is not yet spent.
生吟罷，撫掌起舞踟躕。每吟一句，歔欷數聲，雖無扣舷吹簫，唱和之樂，中情感慨，足以舞幽壑之潛蛟，泣孤舟之嫠婦也。
When Scholar Hong had finished chanting, he clapped his hands, rose to dance, and paced to and fro. At every line he chanted he sobbed a few times. There was no pleasure of beating the gunwale and playing the flute and answering song for song, yet the feeling that stirred within him was enough to set the hidden dragon of the deep ravine dancing and to make the widow in the lonely boat weep.
吟盡欲返，夜已三更矣。忽有跫音，自西而至者。生意謂寺僧聞聲，驚訝而來。坐以待之，見則一美娥也。丫鬟隨侍左右，一執玉柄拂，一執輕羅扇，威儀整齊，狀如貴家處子。生下階，而避之于墻隙，以觀其所爲。娥倚于南軒，看月微吟，風流態度，儼然有序。侍兒捧雲錦茵席以進，改容就坐，琅然言曰：「此間有哦詩者，今在何處？我非花月之妖，步蓮之姝，幸値今夕，長空萬里，天闊雲收，冰輪飛而銀河淡，桂子落而瓊樓寒，一觴一脉，暢敍幽情，如此良夜何？」
He had chanted it all and was about to go back, but the night was already at the third watch.
All at once there were footsteps coming from the west. Scholar Hong thought that a monk of the temple had heard his voice and was coming in surprise, so he sat and waited. When he looked, it was a beautiful woman. Two serving girls with their hair in knots attended her to left and right. One held a fly whisk with a jade handle and one held a light silk fan. Her bearing was composed, and she looked like the daughter of a noble house.
Scholar Hong went down the steps, drew back into a gap in the wall, and watched what she would do.
The woman leaned on the southern railing, looked at the moon and chanted softly, and her graceful manner was grave and ordered. A serving girl lifted up a mat of cloud brocade and set it before her. She composed her face, went to her seat, and said in a clear voice,
"Someone was chanting poems here. Where is he now? I am no spirit of flower and moon, no beauty who walks upon lotuses. I am fortunate to meet this evening. The long sky runs ten thousand li, the heavens are open and the clouds are gone, the wheel of ice flies and the River of Heaven is pale, the cassia seeds fall and the jade tower is cold. With one cup of wine and one thread of feeling I would open my hidden heart. What shall be done with so fine a night?"
生一恐一喜，踟躕不已，作小謦咳聲。侍兒尋聲而來，請曰：「主母奉邀。」生踧踖而進，且拜且跪。娥亦不之甚敬，但曰：「子亦登此。」侍兒以短屛乍掩，只半面相看，從容言曰：「子之所吟者，何語也？爲我陳之。」生一一以誦。娥笑曰：「子亦可與言詩者也。」卽命侍兒，進酒一行，殽饌不似人間，試啖堅硬莫吃，酒又苦不能啜。娥莞爾曰：「俗士，那知白玉醴紅虯脯乎？」命侍兒曰：「汝速去神護寺，乞僧飯小許來。」兒承命而往，須臾得來，卽飯也。又無下飯，又命侍兒曰：「汝去酒巖，乞饌來。」須臾，得鯉炙而來。生啗之。啗訖，娥已依生詩，以和其意，寫於桂箋，使侍兒，投于生前。其詩曰：
Scholar Hong was half afraid and half glad, and he could not stop pacing, and he made a small sound of clearing his throat. A serving girl came toward the sound and asked him, "My mistress bids you come."
Scholar Hong went forward with careful steps, bowed and knelt. The woman for her part did not show him much respect. She only said, "You too may come up here."
The serving girl screened them for a moment with a low screen, so that they saw only half of each other's faces. The woman said quietly, "What was it that you chanted? Set it forth for me."
Scholar Hong recited it all, line by line. The woman laughed and said, "You too are one who may be talked with about poetry."
Then she ordered the serving girl to pour a round of wine. The food was not like the food of the world of men, and when he tried it, it was hard and stiff and he could not eat it, and the wine too was bitter and he could not drink it.
The woman smiled and said, "How should a common scholar know the sweet wine of white jade and the dried meat of the red dragon?"
She ordered the serving girl, "Go quickly to Sinhosa and beg a little of the monks' rice and bring it."
The girl took the order and went, and after a while she brought it, and it was rice. There was nothing to eat with the rice, so the woman ordered the serving girl again, "Go to Juam (酒巖) and beg something to eat with it."
After a while she brought roasted carp, and Scholar Hong ate.
When he had finished eating, the woman had already taken Scholar Hong's poems for her ground and answered their meaning. She wrote it on cassia paper and had the serving girl throw it down before him. Her poems said,
東亭今夜月明多，淸話其如感慨何。樹色依稀靑蓋展，江流瀲瀲練裙拖。光陰忽盡若飛鳥，世事屢驚如逝波。此夕情懷誰了得，數聲鐘磬出烟蘿。
At the eastern pavilion the moon is bright tonight; in this clear talk, what is to be done with all this feeling? The color of the trees is faint, like a green canopy spread; the river runs glittering, like a skirt of white silk trailing. Time is suddenly spent, like a bird in flight; the affairs of the world startle us again and again, like waves running away. Who will understand the heart of this evening? A few strokes of bell and chime come out of the misty vines.
故城南望浿江分，水碧沙明呌雁群。麟駕不來龍已去，鳳吹曾斷土爲墳。睛嵐欲雨詩圓就，野寺無人酒半醺。忍看銅駝沒荊棘，千年蹤跡化浮雲。
From the old walls I look south, where the Paegang divides; the water is blue, the sand is bright, and flocks of geese cry. The girin carriage does not come and the dragon has gone; the phoenix pipes broke off long ago, and earth became a grave. The clear haze is about to turn to rain, and the poem comes round whole; there is no one at the country temple, and the wine half warms me. How can I bear to see the bronze camels sunk in the thorns? The traces of a thousand years have become drifting clouds.
草根咽咽泣寒螿，一上高亭思渺茫。斷雨殘雲傷往事，落花流水感時光。波添秋氣潮聲壯，樓蘸江心月色凉。此是昔年文物地，荒城疎樹惱人腸。
At the roots of the grass the cold cicada sobs and weeps; once I climb the high pavilion my thoughts go far and dim. Broken rain and torn cloud grieve me with things long past; falling blossoms and running water move me with the passing of time. The waves take on the air of autumn, and the sound of the tide is strong; the tower is dipped in the heart of the river, and the moonlight is cold. This was the ground of the culture of those years; the ruined walls and the thin trees torment a man's heart.
錦繡山前錦繡堆，江楓掩映古城隈。丁東何處秋砧苦，欸乃一聲漁艇回。老樹倚巖緣薜荔，斷碑橫草惹莓苔。凭欄無語傷前事，月色波聲摠是哀。
Before Geumsusan the brocade is heaped high; the maples by the river hide and light the corner of the old wall. Tap, tap: where is the autumn fulling block at its bitter work? At one cry of the boatman a fishing boat comes back. The old tree leans on the rock, wound about with ivy; the broken stele lies across the grass, drawing moss to it. I lean on the railing without a word and grieve for what is gone; the moonlight and the sound of the waves are all of them sorrow.
幾介疎星點玉京，銀河淸淺月分明。方知好事皆虛事，難卜他生遇此生。醽醁一樽宜取醉，風塵三尺莫嬰情。英雄萬古成塵土，世上空餘身後名。
A few scattered stars dot the Jade Capital (玉京); the River of Heaven is clear and shallow and the moon is plain to see. Now I know that good things are all of them empty things; it is hard to foretell that another life will meet this life. With one jar of linglu (醽醁) it is right to get drunk; do not hang your heart on three feet of sword in the dust of the world. Heroes through all the ages have become dust and earth; in the world there is left, and left in vain, a name after the body.
夜何知其夜向闌，女墻殘月正團團。君今自是兩塵隔，遇我却賭千日歡。江上瓊樓人欲散，階前玉樹露初溥。欲知此後相逢處，桃熟蓬丘碧海乾。
How goes the night? The night draws to its end; on the battlements the waning moon is perfectly round. You are now parted from me by two worlds of dust, yet in meeting me you have staked a thousand days of joy. On the jade tower above the river the people are about to scatter; on the jade tree before the steps the dew first grows thick. Would you know where we shall meet after this? When the peaches ripen and the blue sea dries at the hill of Penglai.
生得詩且喜，猶恐其返也，欲以談話留之。問曰：「不敢聞姓氏族譜。」娥噫而答曰：「弱質，殷王之裔，箕氏之女。我先祖，實封于此，禮樂典刑，悉遵湯訓，以八條敎民，文物鮮華，千有餘年。一旦天步艱難，灾患奄至，先考敗績匹夫之手，遂失宗社。衛瞞乘時，竊其寶位，而朝鮮之業墜矣。弱質顚蹶狼藉，欲守貞節，待死而已。忽有神人撫我曰：‘我亦此國之鼻祖也。享國之後，入于海島，爲仙不死者，已數千年，汝能隨我紫府玄都，逍遙娛樂乎？’余曰：‘諾。’遂提携引我，至于所居，作別館以待之，餌我以玄洲不死之藥。服之累月，忽覺身輕氣健，磔磔然，如有換骨焉。自是以後，逍遙九垓，儻佯六合，洞天福地，十洲三島，無不遊覽。一日，秋天晃朗，玉宇澄明，月色如水，仰視蟾桂，飄然有遐擧之志。遂登月窟，入廣寒淸虛之府，拜嫦娥於水晶宮裏。嫦娥以我貞靜能文，誘我曰：‘下土仙境，雖云福地，皆是風塵，豈如履靑冥驂白鸞，挹淸香於丹桂，服寒光於碧落，遨遊玉京，遊泳銀河之勝也？’卽命爲香案侍兒，周旋左右，其樂不勝可言。忽於今宵，作鄕井念，下顧蜉蝣，臨睨故鄕，物是人非，皓月掩烟塵之色，白露洗塊蘇之累，辭下淸宵，冉冉一降，拜于祖墓，又欲一玩江亭，以暢情懷。適逢文士，一喜一赧，輒依瓊琚之章，敢展駑鈍之筆，非敢能言，聊以敍情耳。」
Scholar Hong was glad to have the poems, but he feared she would go back, and he wished to hold her with talk. He asked her,
"I dare not ask your family name and your line."
The woman sighed and answered,
"I, weak as I am, am a descendant of the kings of Yin and a daughter of the house of Gija. My ancestor was truly enfeoffed in this land. In rites and music, in statute and punishment, he followed the teaching of Tang in everything, and he taught the people with eight articles, and our culture was bright and fair for more than a thousand years.
In one morning the steps of heaven grew hard and disaster and trouble came all at once. My late father was defeated at the hand of a common man, and at last he lost the altars of the ancestors. Wiman (衛瞞) took his chance and stole that precious seat, and the work of Joseon fell.
I, weak as I am, was thrown down and tumbled about in the confusion, and I meant only to keep my chastity and wait for death. Then all at once there was a divine man who stroked me and said,
'I too am the first ancestor of this country. After I had enjoyed the kingdom I went into an island in the sea, and I have been an immortal and have not died for some thousands of years now. Can you follow me to Xuandu (玄都), the purple abode, and wander there and take your pleasure?'
I said, 'I can.'
Then he took my hand and led me, and we came to the place where he lived. He made a separate lodge and received me there, and he fed me the deathless medicine of Xuanzhou (玄洲). I took it for some months, and all at once I felt my body grow light and my breath grow strong, and there was a cracking sound, as if my bones were being changed.
From that time I wandered to the ends of the nine heavens and roamed the six directions, and of the grotto heavens and blessed grounds, of the ten islands and the three mountains, there was none I did not see.
One day the autumn sky was bright and the jade heavens were clear, and the moonlight was like water. I looked up at the toad and the cassia, and lightly there came upon me a wish to rise far away. So I climbed to the cave of the moon, entered the palace of Guanghan (廣寒) of the clear void, and bowed to Chang'e (嫦娥) within the palace of crystal.
Chang'e, because I was chaste and quiet and could write, coaxed me and said,
'The realms of the immortals in the land below are called blessed ground, yet they are all of them dust. How can they match the splendor of treading the blue sky and driving the white luan, of drawing clear fragrance from the red cassia and wearing cold light in the green heaven, of roaming the Jade Capital and swimming in the River of Heaven?'
Then she made me a serving girl of the incense table, to go about at her side, and the pleasure of it was more than words can say.
Tonight all at once the thought of home came to me. I looked down at the world of mayflies below and stole a glance at my old country, and the things were as they had been, but the people were not. The bright moon covered the color of smoke and dust, and the white dew had washed away the filth of the clods, and so I took my leave of the clear night and came down, drifting gently, and bowed at the graves of my forebears.
Then I wished to look once at the river pavilion and open my heart there. It happened that I met a man of letters, and I was half glad and half ashamed. I took your poems of fair jade for my ground and dared to set out my dull brush. I do not claim to write well. I have only set out my feeling."
生再拜稽首曰：「下土愚昧，甘與草木同腐，豈意與王孫天女，敢望唱和乎？」生卽於席前，一覽而記。又俯伏曰：「愚昧宿障深厚，不能大嚼仙羞，何幸粗知字畵，稍解雲謠，眞一奇也。四美難具，請復以江亭秋夜玩月爲題，押四十韻，敎我。」佳人頷之，濡筆一揮，雲煙相軋，走書卽賦曰：
Scholar Hong bowed twice, touched his head to the ground and said,
"This foolish body of the land below was content to rot with the grass and the trees. How could I have looked to answer poem for poem with a king's descendant, a woman of heaven?"
Scholar Hong then looked at the poems once before his seat and had them by heart. He bowed low again and said,
"This foolish body has a thick old burden of sin, and I could not take large bites of the food of the immortals. Yet I know my letters a little and understand a little of the songs of the clouds, and that is truly a wonder. The four fair things are hard to have together. I beg you to take 'Looking at the moon on an autumn night at the river pavilion' for your title once more, to set forty rhymes, and to teach me."
The fair one nodded, wet her brush and swept it once. Cloud and mist seemed to press on one another, and she ran her brush and made the poem at once.
月白江亭夜，長空玉露流。淸光蘸河漢，灝氣被梧楸。皎潔三千界，嬋娟十二樓。纖雲無半點，輕颯拭雙眸。瀲灩隨流水，依稀送去舟。能窺蓬戶隙，偏映荻花洲。似聽霓裳奏，如看玉斧修。蚌珠胚貝闕，犀暈倒閻浮。願與知微翫，常從公遠遊。芒寒驚魏鵲，影射喘吳牛。隱隱靑山郭，團團碧海陬。共君開鑰匙，乘興上簾鉤。李子停盃日，吳生斫桂秋。素屛光粲爛，紈幄細雕鎪。寶鏡磨初掛，永輪駕不留。金波何穆穆，銀漏正悠悠。拔劍妖蟆斫，張羅▩兎罦。天衢新雨霽，石逕淡煙收。檻壓千章木，階臨萬丈湫。關河誰失路，鄕國幸逢儔。桃李相投報，罍觴可獻酬。好詩爭刻燭，美酒剩添籌。爐爆烏銀片，鐺翻蟹眼漚。龍涎飛睡鴨，瓊液滿癭甌。鳴鶴孤松驚，啼螿四壁愁。胡床殷瘦話，晉渚謝遠遊。彷彿荒城在，簫森草樹稠。靑楓搖湛湛，黃葦冷颼颼。仙鏡乾坤闊，塵閒甲子遒。故宮禾黍穗，野廟梓桑樛。芳臭遺殘碣，興亡問泛鷗。纖阿常仄滿，累塊幾蜉蝣。行殿爲僧舍，前王葬虎丘。螢燐隔幔小，鬼火傍林幽。弔古多垂淚，傷今自買憂。檀君餘木覓，箕邑只溝婁。窟有麒麟跡，原逢肅愼鍭。蘭香還紫府，織女駕蒼虯。文士停花筆，仙娥罷坎堠。曲終人欲散，風靜櫓聲柔。
A moonlit night at the river pavilion; in the long sky the jade dew flows. Clear light is steeped in the River of Heaven; a vast air covers paulownia and catalpa. White and pure: three thousand worlds; lovely and fair: twelve towers. Not half a speck of thin cloud; a light breeze wipes both my eyes. It glitters and follows the running water; faint and dim, it sends the boat away. It can peep through the chink of a wattle gate; it shines aslant on the shore of reed flowers. I seem to hear the Nishang (霓裳) melody; I seem to see the jade axe at its trimming. Mussel pearls take form in the conch palace; the halo of the rhinoceros horn shines upside down on Yanfu (閻浮). I would look at it with Zhiwei (知微), and always follow Luo Gongyuan (羅公遠) in his wandering. At the cold light the magpies of Wei take fright; the shadow strikes, and the ox of Wu pants. Dim are the ramparts of the green hills; round is the corner of the blue sea. With you I open the lock, and in high spirits climb to the hook of the blind. It is the day Li Bai stopped his cup, the autumn Wu Gang (吳剛) chopped at the cassia. The white screen is brilliant with light; the silk curtain is finely carved and worked. The treasure mirror is polished and newly hung; the wheel that turns for ever does not stay. How gentle are the golden waves, how slow and calm the silver water clock. I draw a sword and cut at the uncanny toad; I spread a net and □ cover the hare. On the road of heaven the new rain has cleared; on the stone path the thin mist lifts. The railing presses down a thousand trees; the steps look over a pool ten thousand fathoms deep. Who lost his way at the passes and the river (關河)? In my home country I have happily met a companion. We throw peach and plum to each other in return; we press the wine jar and the cup on each other. We vie in good poems and score the candle; with fine wine we freely add tally sticks. In the brazier a flake of black silver burns; in the kettle bubbles like crab eyes roll over. Ambergris flies from the drowsing duck censer; the jade liquor fills the knotted bowl. The crying crane startles the lonely pine; the crying cicada fills the four walls with care. On the camp stool (胡床) is Yin and his talk of growing thin; by the shore of Jin is Xie and his far wandering. Dimly the ruined city is there; desolate, the grass and trees stand thick. The green maples shake and ripple; the yellow reeds rustle coldly. In the realm of the immortals heaven and earth are wide; in the space of dust the years press hard. In the old palace, ears of rice and millet; at the country shrine, catalpa and mulberry bent low. Good name and ill name are left on a broken stele; of rise and fall I ask the floating gulls. Xian'e (纖阿) is always waning and waxing; of the heaped clods, how many are mayflies? The travelling palace has become a house of monks; the former king is buried at Huqiu (虎丘). The firefly light beyond the curtain is small; the ghost fires beside the wood are faint. I mourn the old days and let many tears fall; I grieve for the present and buy sorrow for myself. What is left of Dangun is only Mongmyeok (木覓); the town of Gija is only Guru (溝婁). In the cave there are traces of the girin; on the hill one meets the arrows of Suksin. Lanxiang (蘭香) goes back to the purple abode; the Weaving Maid rides a blue dragon. The man of letters stops his flowered brush; the immortal woman leaves off her watching. The song is over and the people are about to scatter; the wind has died and the sound of the oars is soft.
〔One character after "I spread a net" is missing in the source text.〕
寫訖，擲筆凌空而逝，莫測所之。將歸，使侍兒傳命曰：「帝命有嚴，將驂白鸞，淸話未盡，愴我中情。」俄而，回飇捲地，吹倒生座，掠詩而去，亦不知所之。蓋不使異話，傳播人間也。
When she had finished writing she threw down the brush, rose over the empty air and was gone, and no one could tell where. As she was about to go she sent word by a serving girl, "The command of the Emperor is strict, and I must drive the white luan. Our clear talk is not finished, and it grieves my heart."
Then a whirlwind rolled along the ground, blew over the seat where Scholar Hong sat, and snatched the poems away, and no one knew where they went either. It was so that this strange tale should not be spread abroad among men.
生惺然而立，藐爾而思，似夢非夢，似眞非眞。倚闌注想，盡記其語，因念奇遇，而未盡情款。乃追懷以吟曰：
Scholar Hong came to himself and stood, and his thoughts went far away. It was like a dream and not a dream, like the truth and not the truth. He leaned on the railing and poured out his thoughts, and he remembered all her words, and thinking of that strange meeting he was sorry their warm feeling had not been fulfilled. So he called it back to mind and chanted,
雲雨陽臺一夢間，何年重見玉簫還。江波縱是無情物，嗚咽哀鳴下別灣。
The cloud and rain of Yangtai (陽臺) lay within one dream; in what year shall I see the jade flute come back again? The waves of the river are a thing without feeling, yet they sob and cry in grief as they go down to the bay of parting.
吟訖四盻，山寺鐘鳴，水村鷄唱，月隱城西，明星暳暳，但聽鼠啾于庭，蟲鳴于座，悄然而悲，肅然而恐，愴乎其不可留也。返而登舟，怏怏鬱鬱，抵于故岸，同伴競問曰：「昨宵，托宿甚處？」生紿曰：「昨夜，把竿乘月，至長慶門外朝天石畔，欲釣錦鱗。會夜凉水寒，不得一鮒，何恨如之？」同伴亦不之疑也。
When he had finished chanting he looked all about him. The bell of the mountain temple rang and the cocks of the river village crowed, the moon hid west of the city and the morning star glittered. He heard only the squeaking of mice in the courtyard and the crying of insects at his seat. He was forlorn and sad, he was awed and afraid, and in his grief he could not stay.
He went back and boarded the boat, sullen and heavy at heart. When he reached the old bank his companions asked him, one after another, "Where did you lodge last night?"
Scholar Hong deceived them and said, "Last night I took my rod and rode the moon out to the Jocheonseok beyond Janggyeongmun, meaning to fish for brocade scales. It happened that the night was cool and the water was cold, and I did not get a single carp. What grief is there like it?"
His companions for their part did not doubt him.
其後，生念娥，得勞瘵尫羸之疾，先抵于家，精神恍惚，言語無常，展輾在床，久而不愈。生一日，夢見淡妝美人，來告曰：「主母奏于上皇，上皇惜其才，使隸河鼓幕下爲從事。上帝칙勅汝，其可避乎？」生驚覺，命家人，沐浴更衣，焚香掃地，鋪席于庭，支頥暫臥，奄然而逝，卽九月望日也。殯之數日，顔色不變，人以爲遇仙屍解云。
After this Scholar Hong thought of the woman and fell ill of a wasting sickness (勞瘵) that left him thin. He had reached home first, but his mind was clouded and his words were not as they should be. He tossed on his bed for a long while and did not get better.
One day Scholar Hong saw in a dream a beautiful woman in plain dress, who came and told him, "My mistress reported you to the Emperor on High (上皇), and the Emperor on High, cherishing your talent, has attached you to the staff of Hegu (河鼓) as an attendant officer (從事). The Lord of Heaven has commanded you. Can you escape it?"〔After "the Lord of Heaven" the source text writes the sound of 勅 once more in hangul.〕
Scholar Hong woke in alarm and ordered his household to bathe him and change his clothes, to burn incense and sweep the ground. They spread a mat in the courtyard, and he lay down a little while with his chin on his hand and passed away all at once. It was the fifteenth day of the ninth month.
For several days after he was laid out his face did not change color, and people said that he had met an immortal and had been released from the body (尸解).