宋 Song · 词 Ci lyric
鹧鸪天·元夕有所梦
Tune: Partridge Sky — A Dream on Lantern Festival Night
肥水东流无尽期。
当初不合种相思。
梦中未比丹青见，暗里忽惊山鸟啼。
春未绿，鬓先丝。
人间别久不成悲。
谁教岁岁红莲夜，两处沈吟各自知。
At the first I should not have planted this love-thought.
In the dream she was not as clear as in the portrait; in the dark I am startled awake by a mountain bird's cry.
Spring has not yet turned green, but my temples are first silvered;
In this world, parted too long, one grows beyond sorrow.
Who makes me year by year on the red-lotus night muse apart, each knowing the other's heart?
Meaning
The Fei River flows east without end, like his love; he regrets having ever planted that love-thought. In the dream the beloved was less clear than her portrait, and a mountain bird's cry startled him awake. Spring has not turned green, yet his hair is already white. Parted so long, sorrow itself has numbed; still, year by year on the Lantern Festival night, the two muse apart, each alone knowing the other's heart.
肥水东流，无尽无期；当初真不该种下这段相思。梦中所见之人，还不如画中真切，正在恍惚之际，忽被山鸟啼声惊破。春色尚未转绿，鬓发却已先白。人间离别久了，悲伤也就渐渐麻木。是谁让我年年于红莲灯火的元夕之夜，两地沉吟，各自相思，只有彼此心知。
Appreciation
A dream on Lantern Festival, writing three decades of parted love. The upper stanza opens on the Fei River and 'planting love,' the dream fainter than the portrait, broken by a bird. The lower writes spring not green but temples silver, 'parted too long, one grows beyond sorrow,' and the two musing apart on the red-lotus night. Clear and empty in manner yet deep in feeling; the famous line 'parted too long, one grows beyond sorrow' speaks ultimate love through paradox.
【白话串讲】 姜夔写鹧鸪天，元夕梦见旧日情人：“肥水东流无尽期。当初不合种相思”。“梦中未比丹青见，暗里忽惊山鸟啼”——“春未绿，鬓先丝。人间别久不成悲”——“谁教岁岁红莲夜，两处沈吟各自知”——他写刻骨的相思。 【意象与手法】 上片写梦：以肥水东流起兴，写相思无尽；「种相思」以稼穑喻情事，奇想天成；梦不如画、鸟啼惊梦，写梦之迷离易断。下片写醒后：春绿鬓丝对照，写时光之速；「别久不成悲」翻进一层，写悲之麻木；红莲灯夜、两处沉吟，写岁岁相思之执着。清空之中见深挚。 【情感与主旨】 姜夔年轻时客居合肥，与一歌女相恋，别后终身怀念。此词作于庆元三年（1197）元夕，词人年逾不惑，梦回旧情，遂有此作。借元夕之梦写别后数十年的相思：梦已淡如画，悲已不成悲，而年年红莲夜，两处沉吟各自知——情到极处，反以淡语出之，愈淡愈深。 【名句点睛】 「人间别久不成悲」以反语写至情，是千古名句：别得太久，悲伤已麻木，而麻木之下，正是更深的悲；「两处沈吟各自知」写两地相思、各自心知，含蓄深沉。
Background
Jiang Kui (c.1155–c.1221), styled Yao-zhang, Hao White-Stone Daoist, of Poyang, a lifelong commoner and giant of Southern Song ci, master of the 'clear-and-elegant' school. This poem, titled 'A Dream on Lantern Festival,' was written on the Lantern Festival of 1197, when he lodged in Hangzhou, past forty. The 'Fei River' is the Fei Shui by Hefei, where in youth he loved a singing girl; they parted and he never forgot her. On that festival night he dreamed of her and wrote this. 'At the first I should not have planted this love-thought' and 'parted too long, one grows beyond sorrow' are no common love-talk but the sediment of thirty years. In a time of national peril, his poem keeps deep feeling within idle song, clear and lofty—a rare love lyric of Song.
姜夔（约1155—约1221），字尧章，号白石道人，饶州鄱阳（今属江西）人，南宋词坛巨擘，与辛弃疾、吴文英并称。姜夔终身布衣，未入仕途，一生依人作客、转徙江湖，其词以清空骚雅著称，为「清雅词派」宗主。此词题曰「元夕有所梦」，作于宋宁宗庆元三年（1197）元夕，时词人客居杭州，年四十余。词中「肥水」即淝水，源出合肥——姜夔年轻时曾客居合肥，与当地歌女相恋，其《踏莎行》「燕燕轻盈，莺莺娇软」、《鹧鸪天·元夕有所梦》即为此情而作。二人相恋而不克成眷属，别后音书渐绝，而词人终身不能忘情：庆元三年元夕，梦中又见其人，醒后遂有此作。「当初不合种相思」之悔、「人间别久不成悲」之痛，皆非泛泛言情，而是三十年相思的沉淀之语。南宋中期，士人于国势危殆中多寄情声妓词酒，姜夔此词却于流连之中见深情，将一己之情事写得清空深挚，品格独高，是宋词情词中不可多得的佳作。词人既以江湖游士之身漂泊终身，此一段情事遂成其生命中最温柔也最深的隐痛，年年元夕，触之辄痛。
Art
The poem's art is writing deep love in a clear, empty manner—the paler, the deeper, a model of Jiang Kui's style. The upper stanza writes the dream: 'the Fei River flows east without end' uses the river as omen of endless love; 'at the first I should not have planted this love-thought' makes love a seed, strange and apt; 'in the dream not as clear as the portrait' writes the dream's fading; 'in the dark startled by a mountain bird's cry' writes its breaking. The lower: 'spring not green, temples first silver' contrasts season and man; 'parted too long, one grows beyond sorrow' turns deeper, numbness being the extreme of grief; 'who makes me year by year on the red-lotus night muse apart' closes in question. From dream to waking, regret to grief to clinging, one breath—strict in form, high in realm.
此词之妙，在以清空之笔写深挚之情，愈淡愈深，是白石「清空骚雅」词风的典范。上片写梦，以「肥水东流无尽期」起兴：水之无尽，喻相思之无尽，起笔即以长河意象定下情感的绵长基调；「当初不合种相思」以「种」字写情，将无形相思化为可种的植物，奇想天成，悔意与情根并见；「梦中未比丹青见」写梦之淡：梦中之人，还不如画像真切——可见连梦也已遥远模糊，岁月之隔、相思之久，尽在其中；「暗里忽惊山鸟啼」写梦之断：正当恍惚相见之际，山鸟一声，梦魂惊破，怅惘可知。下片写醒后之悲：「春未绿，鬓先丝」以春与人对照，春尚嫩而人已老，时光之速、相思之耗，一语道尽；「人间别久不成悲」翻进一层：别得太久，悲已麻木——麻木并非无悲，而是悲之极处反觉无悲，以反语写至情；「谁教岁岁红莲夜，两处沈吟各自知」以问句收束：年年元夕，红莲灯下，两处沉吟，各自心知——相思之执着、之无奈、之孤独，尽在其中。全词由梦而醒、由悔而悲、由悲而执，一气流走，章法谨严，正是白石以淡语写至情的高境。
Allusions
The language is clear, allusions melted into feeling. 'Planted love-thought' makes formless love a plant, echoing the red bean (love-seed) of Wang Wei's 'South of the hills the red beans grow.' 'Portrait' (dan qing) means the painted image kept when apart. 'Red-lotus night' names a Lantern Festival lamp—Su Wei-dao wrote of festival fires, Ouyang Xiu of 'the flower market bright as day,' the festival being a lovers' meeting night, here used to sharpen loneliness by contrast. 'Muse apart' (shen yin) means silent recollection; two places, each knowing, is含蓄 and deep. All drawn at hand with no seam, the height of 'using allusion without being used by it.'
此词用语清空，用典皆融化于情事之中，无一处生硬。其一，「种相思」：相思本无形，而以「种」字出之，如种树栽花，暗用相思子（红豆）传统——王维《相思》「红豆生南国，春来发几枝。愿君多采撷，此物最相思」，红豆即相思子，种相思犹种红豆，情根深种，遂成永劫。其二，「丹青」：画像之谓，旧时情人别后，以画像存其音容，词人梦中见人反不如画像真切，可见相思之淡、岁月之久，亦暗含「丹青易得，真人难见」之叹。其三，「红莲夜」：红莲为宋时元夕灯品之名，元夕灯市，红莲灯明如星海，苏味道《正月十五夜》「火树银花合」写元夕灯火，欧阳修（一作朱淑真）《生查子·元夕》「去年元夜时，花市灯如昼」写元夕约会——元夕本为情人相会之节，词人年年于此时忆旧，红莲灯愈亮，孤怀愈冷，乐景衬哀。其四，「沈吟」：低声思念、默然怀想之态，两处沈吟，写两地同心而各自心知，含蓄深永。凡此皆随手拈来，不见使典之迹，正是白石「用事不为事所使」的高境。
Commentary
Jiang Kui's representative love lyric and a famous Lantern-Festival ci. 'Parted too long, one grows beyond sorrow' is praised as a line of ultimate feeling: most love poems write fresh grief, but he writes 'long parted'—sorrow habitual, numbed past feeling, and beneath the numbness lies decades of untouched, deep grief. It is unreasonable yet wondrous, saying the reverse to show the true. Compared with Yan Jidao's infatuation or Liu Yong's devotion, Jiang Kui's grief goes deeper: he no longer cries to heaven but lightly says 'not sorrow,' and the reader knows his grief is deepest. Critics call his style 'clear and empty'—no ornate word, yet deep feeling within; this poem proves it. It inherits the love tradition of Yan and Qin Guan and opens the Southern Song elegant school's love mode. His lifelong commoner's wandering adds a loneness beyond the love itself, a long, faint resonance.
《鹧鸪天·元夕有所梦》是姜夔情词的代表作，亦是宋词元夕词中的名篇。「人间别久不成悲」一句，历来被推为至情之语：常人写相思，多写「新愁」，白石却写「别久」——别得太久，悲伤已成习惯，麻木到感觉不到悲，而麻木之下，正是积压了数十年的、不敢触碰的深悲。此语无理而妙、反语见意，与晏几道「梦后楼台高锁」的痴、柳永「为伊消得人憔悴」的执相比，白石之悲更深一层：他不再呼天抢地，只淡淡说一句「不成悲」，而读者知其悲之至深。词论家论白石词「清空」：不着一艳语、不施浓彩，而深情自在其中，此词即是明证——「春未绿，鬓先丝」之对照、「两处沈吟各自知」之默然，皆以淡语写至情。就词史而言，此词上承晏几道、秦观之情词传统，下开南宋清雅词派之情词法门，以清空写深情，为宋词情词别开生面。而姜夔终身布衣、依人作客的身世，亦使此词于男女之情外，更添一份江湖飘零、知音难觅的苍凉，情韵悠长，耐人寻味。
Prosody
Line by line
肥水东流无尽期。
The Fei River flows east without end. — Opens with the river as omen, setting the long, plaintive key; the Fei River by Hefei is where the old love lived, so the endless flow means endless love—thirty years and still the water flows east, thing constant, feeling constant.
肥水不停地向东流淌，正如相思一样，没有穷尽之期。
The Fei River flows east without end, like my longing, which has no term.
起句以水起兴，定下全词绵长悱恻的基调。「肥水」即淝水，流经合肥，是词人旧日情事的发生之地——起笔即点出情之所系，见情根之深；「东流无尽期」写水之东流、无穷无尽——水无尽，喻相思亦无尽。此句以流水写相思，渊源甚古：汉乐府《长歌行》「百川东到海，何时复西归」以水之不复喻时之不再，李白「请君试问东流水，别意与之谁短长」以流水写别意，白石此处以「无尽期」写水流之恒，正与「别久不成悲」的持久之悲相应：别三十年而水仍东流，水无尽而思无已，物之恒与情之恒，两两相映。且「肥水」实指其地，以地名入词，更增真切之感：非泛泛言情，乃确有所指、确有其地，情之所系，三十年如一日，读之怅然，起笔八字，已为全词定下绵长凄婉的基调。
The opening raises feeling through water, fixing the ci's long, tender keynote. 'The Fei River' is the Fei River, flowing through Hefei, the place of the poet's old love affair — the first stroke names the tie of feeling, showing how deep the root. 'Flows east without end' writes the river's eastward, endless flow — water without end figures longing without end. Writing longing through flowing water has a long lineage: the Han yuefu 'Hundred rivers flow east to the sea, when will they return west?' uses water's non-return for time's non-return; Li Bai 'ask the east-flowing water, which is longer, this parting feeling or it?' uses water for parting; here Baishi writes the constancy of the flow through 'without end,' answering the enduring grief of 'long parting ceases to be grief' — thirty years parted, yet the river still flows east; water without end, longing without rest, the constancy of thing and of feeling mirroring each other. Moreover 'the Fei River' is a real place; naming it in the ci adds vividness: not vague talk of love, but a definite place and affair, the tie of feeling thirty years unchanged; reading it gives a pang, and the eight characters of the opening have already fixed the ci's long, wistful keynote.
当初不合种相思。
At the first I should not have planted this love-thought. — A core line of love through regret, unreasonable yet wondrous: making love a seed that once planted can never be pulled; 'should not' shows the deeper infatuation—only because he cannot forget does he regret the planting. With 'parted too long, one grows beyond sorrow' it is a line of ultimate feeling by reversal.
当初真不该种下这段相思之情，以致如今难以自拔。
I should never, at the beginning, have planted this love-longing.
此句以悔语写深情，是全词情感的核心，无理而妙。「种相思」三字是奇想：相思本无形无色，不可捉摸，而着一「种」字，则如种树栽花——相思有了种子，种下便会生根发芽、开花结果，且一旦种下，便再也拔除不掉，除非连根断绝。以「种」写情，既见情根之深（当初种下，遂成永劫），又见情之难解（种易除难），更暗用红豆相思子的传统（王维《相思》「红豆生南国」），含蓄蕴藉。「不合」即不该，是彻骨之悔：早知今日相思之苦，当初何必相遇相恋？然而「不合」二字愈见其痴——真不合，则早该忘记；正因为忘不掉，才悔当初种下。以悔写爱，以否定写肯定，正是白石此词「无理而妙」处，与「人间别久不成悲」同为翻进一层的至情之语，亦见情根之深已不可拔。
This line writes deep feeling through words of regret, the emotional core of the ci, unreasonable yet exquisite. The three words 'plant this love-longing' are a strange conceit: longing is originally formless, elusive, yet adding one verb 'plant' makes it like planting a tree or flower — longing has a seed, and once planted it will root, sprout, bloom and bear fruit; once planted, it can never be pulled up unless the root is cut. Writing feeling through 'plant' shows both the depth of its root (planted at the start, become an eternal kalpa) and the difficulty of its riddance (easy to plant, hard to root out), and secretly uses the tradition of the red bean of longing (Wang Wei's 'red beans grow in the south'), restrained and pregnant. 'Should never' means ought not, a bone-deep regret: had I known today's pain of longing, why meet and fall in love at the start? Yet 'should never' all the more shows the dotage — if truly 'never,' he should have forgotten long ago; precisely because he cannot forget, he regrets planting it then. Writing love through regret, affirmation through negation, is precisely Baishi's 'unreasonable yet exquisite,' and together with 'in this world, long parting ceases to be grief' is a feeling turned one layer deeper, showing the root of love already beyond plucking.
梦中未比丹青见，暗里忽惊山鸟啼。
In the dream she was not as clear as in the portrait; in the dark I am startled awake by a mountain bird's cry. — Writes the dream's faintness and breaking: after thirty years even the dream is dimmer than the kept portrait; a bird's cry shatters it. Faint and broken, the waking grief is certain—ending the upper stanza like a sigh.
梦中所见之人，还不如画像真切；暗夜之中，忽然被山鸟的啼声惊破。
In the dream she is less clearly seen than in the painting; in the dark, suddenly a mountain bird's cry startles me awake.
此二句写梦之淡与梦之断，是全词最凄清处。「梦中未比丹青见」：梦中见到旧日情人，而其面目竟不如画像真切——可见年深日久，记忆中的音容已渐渐模糊，连梦也淡了；而词人尚珍藏其画像（丹青），睹物思人，愈见情之执着。此句写梦之淡，淡得令人心惊：相思三十年，梦中相见，竟如隔雾看花。「暗里忽惊山鸟啼」写梦之断：正于恍惚迷离之际，山鸟一声，梦魂惊破——「暗里」写夜之深，亦写梦之幽；「忽惊」写醒之骤，怅惘之感扑面而来。两句一写梦之不得真切，一写梦之不得长久，梦既淡且断，则醒后之悲可知。以山鸟惊梦收束上片，如一声叹息，为下片「别久不成悲」的麻木与深悲作势，亦见白石于梦境中亦不能得偿所愿的悲凉。
These two write the faintness and the breaking of the dream, the bleakest place of the ci. 'In the dream she is less clearly seen than in the painting': seeing the old beloved in dream, yet her face less vivid than in the portrait — showing that after long years the remembered features have blurred, even the dream grown faint; yet the poet still treasures her portrait, seeing the object and thinking of the person, all the more the fixation of feeling. The line writes the dream's faintness, faint to the point of alarm: longing for thirty years, meeting in dream, yet like seeing flowers through mist. 'In the dark, suddenly a mountain bird's cry startles me awake' writes the dream's breaking: just in the trance, a mountain bird's cry shatters the dream-soul — 'in the dark' writes the depth of night and the obscurity of dream; 'suddenly startles' the abruptness of waking, the wistfulness pressing on the reader. One phrase writes the dream unable to be clear, one the dream unable to last; since the dream is both faint and broken, the grief after waking may be imagined. Closing the upper stanza in a mountain bird startling the dream is like a sigh, building momentum for the lower stanza's numbness and deep grief of 'long parting ceases to be grief,' showing Baishi's desolation of being unable to be fulfilled even in dream.
春未绿，鬓先丝。
Spring has not yet turned green, but my temples are first silvered. — Contrasts season and man: spring not yet green, hair already white; 'not yet' and 'first' show time's cruelty—spring returns, man only ages. Subtly answers the Lantern-Festival season, man worse than spring, grief arising.
早春时节，春色尚未转绿，而我的鬓发却已先白如丝。
Spring has not yet turned green, yet my temples are already white as silk.
此二句以春与人对照，写时光之速、相思之耗，是全词最警策处。「春未绿」写时令：元夕之时，早春初至，草木尚未转绿——春方萌而人已老，时间的错位触目惊心；「鬓先丝」写鬓发：丝者，白发如丝也——鬓发竟先于春色而白。「未」与「先」对举，写尽岁月无情：春年年会绿，而人只能年年老去；春未绿而鬓先丝，则相思之耗、愁苦之深，不言可知。此语脱胎于宋人「白发新添」的传统，而对照之精（春与鬓、未与先）、造语之新（以丝状白发），皆超越前人。且「春未绿」亦暗应「元夕」之时令：元夕在立春前后，正是春未转绿之时，写景与时令相合，景中有情，是白石善于将时令、景物、情感打并一处的功力所在——春之将绿，反衬鬓之先丝，人不如春，悲从中来。
These two set spring and the person in contrast, writing the swiftness of time and the drain of longing, the most aphoristic place of the ci. 'Spring has not yet turned green' writes the season: at the Lantern Festival early spring has just come, plants not yet green — spring just sprouting while the person already old, the dislocation of time striking. 'My temples are already white as silk' writes the temples: 'silk' means white hair like thread — the temples white before the spring green. 'Not yet' and 'already' stand opposed, exhausting the mercilessness of years: spring will turn green year after year, but the person can only grow old year after year; spring not green while temples already white — the drain of longing, the depth of grief, need not be stated. The words derive from the Song tradition of 'white hair newly added,' yet the precision of contrast (spring and temples, not yet and already) and the freshness of phrasing (white hair as silk) both surpass predecessors. Moreover 'spring not yet green' secretly answers the Lantern Festival season: the festival falls around the start of spring, precisely when spring is not yet green, scenery and season accord, scenery holding feeling; this is Baishi's mastery of fusing season, scenery and feeling — spring about to turn green sets off the temples already white, the man less than spring, grief rising from within.
人间别久不成悲。
In this world, parted too long, one grows beyond sorrow. — The famous line, speaking ultimate love by paradox: grief so deep it numbs, the more he says 'not sorrow' the deeper it is; 'in this world' lifts private grief to a common human experience, the poem's deepest point.
人间离别久了，悲伤也就渐渐不成其为悲伤。
In this world, when parting lasts long, grief ceases to be grief.
此句是全词的名句，以反语写至情，历来传诵。「别久不成悲」字面之意：离别太久了，悲伤已不成为悲伤——悲到极处，反觉麻木，如伤疤结痂，痛已不痛。然而「不成悲」并非真的无悲，而是悲之积压过久、过深，已沉入心底，化为一种说不出的苍凉；愈说「不成悲」，愈见其悲之不可言说、不可排遣。此语翻进一层，超越了一切「断肠」「销魂」的直写：写相思而能不着一「愁」字、「泪」字，只淡淡说「不成悲」，正是白石「清空」词风的极致。且「人间」二字，将一己之悲提升为人间普遍的体验：人间多少离别，别久则悲麻木，麻木则更悲——此语既是自伤，亦是普泛的人生感慨，故能引起千古共鸣。以淡语写至情，以反语写真语，此句遂成情词中的不刊之论，亦是全词情感最深沉的凝点。
This is a famous line of the ci, writing utmost feeling through inverted words, cherished through the ages. 'When parting lasts long, grief ceases to be grief': literally, parting too long, sorrow has ceased to be sorrow — grief at its extreme turns numb, like a scab forming, the pain no longer pain. Yet 'ceases to be grief' is not truly no grief, but grief piled too long and too deep, sunk into the heart and turned into an indefinable desolation; the more one says 'ceases to be grief,' the more one shows grief unspeakable and unspeakable. The line turns one layer deeper, transcending every direct writing of 'broken bowels' and 'soul-shaking': writing longing without a single word of 'sorrow' or 'tears,' only faintly saying 'ceases to be grief,' is precisely the extreme of Baishi's 'clear and empty' style. Moreover the words 'in this world' lift one man's grief into the universal experience of humanity: how many partings in the world, parting long and grief numb, numbness and yet deeper grief — the words are at once self-pity and a general sigh of life, hence the resonance across the ages. Writing utmost feeling through faint words, true words through inverted words, this line has become an unassailable verdict in love ci, and the deepest condensation of the ci's feeling.
谁教岁岁红莲夜，两处沈吟各自知。
Who makes me year by year on the red-lotus night muse apart, each knowing the other's heart? — Closes in question on the yearly clinging: the red-lotus Lantern night, two places, each musing, knowing the other's heart; 'each knowing' shows distant hearts in accord within loneliness. From 'planted' to 'not sorrow' to 'each knowing,' love tried yet never forgotten.
是谁让我年年于红莲灯火的元夕之夜，两地沉吟，各自相思，只有彼此心知。
Who has ordained that every year, on the red-lantern night, we two, apart, sigh in longing, each knowing in the heart?
结句以问句收束，写年年元夕的相思之执，是全词情感的归结。「谁教」一问，问得痴绝：是谁让我年年如此？是命耶？是情耶？还是那解不开的当初？「岁岁红莲夜」写元夕灯市：红莲是宋时元夕灯品，年年元夕，灯海如昼，而词人年年于此夜忆旧——佳节愈喧闹，孤怀愈冷寂，以乐景衬哀情；「两处沈吟各自知」写两地同心：她在合肥，他在杭州，两地之人，各自于元夕之夜沉吟相思，而彼此心知——「各自知」三字最见深情：相思不可语、不可寄，唯有自知，然「各自」二字，又见天涯同心、两心相印，于孤独中见默契。全词以水起，以问结，由「种相思」之悔，到「不成悲」之麻木，再到「各自知」之执着，情虽磨折而终不能忘，正是「不思量，自难忘」的又一绝唱，余韵悠长，令人低回不已。
The close ends in a question, writing the fixation of yearly Lantern longing, the conclusion of the ci's feeling. The question 'who has ordained' asks with utter dotage: who has made me thus year after year? Fate? Feeling? Or that unloosable beginning? 'Every year, on the red-lantern night' writes the Lantern Festival lantern market: 'red lotuses' were a Song lantern type; every year at the festival the sea of lamps is bright as day, and every year on this night the poet recalls the past — the noisier the festival, the colder the solitary heart, joyful scenery setting off sorrow. 'We two, apart, sigh in longing, each knowing in the heart' writes hearts united across distance: she in Hefei, he in Hangzhou, two people in two places, each sighing with longing on the Lantern night, yet each knowing the other — the three words 'each knowing' best show deep feeling: longing cannot be spoken nor mailed, only self-known; yet 'each' also shows hearts across the horizon, two hearts imprinted, understanding within solitude. The ci opens in water and closes in a question, from the regret of 'planting longing,' to the numbness of 'ceases to be grief,' to the fixation of 'each knowing'; feeling though buffeted yet unforgettable, precisely another masterpiece of 'never thinking of it, yet never able to forget,' the aftertone long, leaving the reader lingering.
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Ouyang Xiu's (or Zhu Shu-zhen's) 'Sheng Cha Zi' ('Last year on the festival night…') and Jiang Kui's 'Partridge Sky' are both famous Lantern-Festival longing poems yet opposite: the former contrasts last year's meeting with this year's tears, bright and flowing, still youthful; the latter opens on the Fei River for thirty years' parted love, dream faint, sorrow numbed, clear and cold to the bone. One writes the festival's meeting, the other its dream; one youth's grief, the other middle-age's sorrow. Read together they show the Lantern-Festival theme deepening from Northern to Southern Song.
欧阳修（一作朱淑真）《生查子·元夕》「去年元夜时，花市灯如昼。月上柳梢头，人约黄昏后」与姜夔《鹧鸪天·元夕有所梦》同为元夕怀人名作，而面目迥异：生查子以去年与今年对照，去年人约黄昏、今年泪湿春衫，是元夕情事的典型写法，明快流丽，怅惘中尚有青春气息；鹧鸪天以肥水东流起兴，写别后三十年的相思，梦淡如画、悲不成悲，是中年以后的沉挚之语，清空幽冷，苍凉入骨。一写元夕之会，一写元夕之梦；一年少之愁，一中岁之悲。二词对读，可见元夕怀人题材由北宋至南宋的深化：欧词之情清浅明朗，白石之情深挚沉郁，恰是两代人心态与词风变迁的缩影。
江城子·乙卯正月二十日夜记梦 Jiang Cheng Zi — A Dream on the 20th Night of the 1st Month 苏轼 · 记梦怀人的两种隔阂：生死与岁月 Two dream-records of the absent: by death vs. by timeSu Shi's 'Jiang Cheng Zi' ('Ten years dead and living, two vast…') and Jiang Kui's 'Partridge Sky' both dream of the lost one, but what separates them differs: Su mourns his dead wife Wang Fu—ten years, even if met you'd not know me, dust-filled, temples frost, brief dream, longest grief; Jiang recalls an old love—separated by time, dream fainter than portrait, spring not green, temples silver, grief numbed. One writes straight 'heart-break,' the other by 'not sorrow'; one a elegy, the other a love-dirge. Both use reversal to show feeling—'not forgetting though not thinking' and 'parted too long, one grows beyond sorrow' are one deep feeling's two faces.
苏轼《江城子·乙卯正月二十日夜记梦》「十年生死两茫茫，不思量，自难忘」与姜夔《鹧鸪天·元夕有所梦》同写梦回旧人，而所隔有别：苏词悼亡妻王弗，所隔者是生死——十年生死，纵使相逢应不识，尘满面，鬓如霜，梦短情长，悲之至痛；姜词怀旧日情人，所隔者是岁月——别久梦淡，梦中未比丹青见，春未绿而鬓先丝，悲已成麻木。一以「断肠」直写，一以「不成悲」反写；一为悼亡之绝唱，一为怀旧之绝调。二词对读，可见记梦怀人的两种极致：苏轼以情之烈写生死之痛，姜夔以情之淡写岁月之悲——而「不思量，自难忘」与「别久不成悲」实是同一深情的一体两面，皆以反语见意，千古同悲。
鹧鸪天·代人赋 Partridge Sky — Written for Another 辛弃疾 · 同调写相思：稼轩之痴与白石之淡 Same tune, same love: Xin's infatuation vs. Jiang's palenessXin Qiji's 'Partridge Sky — Written for Another' ('If the eyes held no parting-grief, I'd not believe the world has white hair…') and Jiang Kui's 'Partridge Sky' both use the tune for love, yet opposite in manner: Xin speaks for a longing woman with bold, deep strokes; Jiang writes his own affair with pale, clear, cold strokes. One rich, one pale; one love's intensity, one love's length. Read together they show the tune's two faces in the two Song dynasties.
辛弃疾《鹧鸪天·代人赋》「若教眼底无离恨，不信人间有白头」「情知已被山遮断，频倚阑干不自由」与姜夔《鹧鸪天·元夕有所梦》同用鹧鸪天词牌写相思，而风格迥异：稼轩代闺中思妇立言，以「不信人间有白头」的假设、「频倚阑干不自由」的情态写痴，笔致清刚深挚，是豪放词人的婉约之笔；白石自写情事，以「别久不成悲」的反语、「两处沈吟各自知」的默然写淡，笔致清空幽冷，是清雅词人的深情之致。一浓一淡，一写相思之烈，一写相思之久。二词对读，可见鹧鸪天一词于两宋词人笔下的不同面目，亦见相思母题的两极写法：稼轩以情之深胜，白石以情之淡胜，而皆能动人于千古。