All poems

宋 Song · 诗 Poem

刘项祠

The Shrines of Liu and Xiang

胡仲弓

Hu Zhonggong

咏史history 怀古meditation on the past

二祠相望几春秋，祀了龙颜祀沐猴。
章戴溪南梨岭北，不知何处是鸿沟。

Two shrines face each other across how many springs and autumns—having sacrificed to the dragon countenance, they sacrifice to the crowned monkey.
South of the Zhangdai Stream, north of the Li Ridge: no one knows anymore where the Honggou line once ran.

Listen

Meaning

Standing before two shrines that face each other—one for Liu Bang, one for Xiang Yu—the poet observes that the locals burn incense to both victor and vanquished alike. The final question, "who knows where the Honggou boundary is," points out that the line that once divided Chu from Han has vanished entirely: the fierce contest of rise and fall has dissolved into forgetting. Written in the late Southern Song, the cold joke carries a warm heart, and behind the history lies grief for the poet's own ailing dynasty.

两座祠堂遥遥相对，不知历经了多少春秋；人们祭祀过高祖刘邦，又来祭祀沐猴而冠的项羽。祠堂就在章戴溪的南边、梨岭的北边，可如今谁还知道当年的鸿沟在哪里呢。祭祀过高祖刘邦，又来祭祀沐猴而冠的项羽。谁也不知道当年的鸿沟到底在哪里了。

Appreciation

In twenty-eight characters the poem achieves a complete drama of history. "Face each other" turns two inert buildings into two dead enemies still glaring across the centuries; the doubled "sacrificed... sacrificed" sets the honorific "dragon countenance" beside the insulting "crowned monkey," solemn and comic colliding, so that folk worship quietly levels all the world's victories. The third line fixes the geography with flat exactness—stream-south, ridge-north—and the last line yanks the ground away: the boundary that once halved the empire cannot even be located. Solid first, then empty; a small scene bearing a huge history; ridicule carrying grief—the colloquial register smuggled into the poem without a grain of vulgarity, an exemplary Song use of "the common made elegant."

【白话串讲】胡仲弓过刘项祠：“二祠相望几春秋，祀了龙颜祀沐猴”——刘邦的祠和项羽的祠相望。“章戴溪南梨岭北，不知何处是鸿沟”——他问鸿沟在哪里。【意象与手法】以「相望」二字写二祠对峙，仿佛两位死敌于幽冥中仍不相让；「祀了龙颜祀沐猴」以复沓句法把胜者与败者并祀，庄谐相激。结句由溪南岭北的实景陡然一问，以地理之实写历史之虚，前实后虚，冷隽而含深慨。【情感与主旨】诗人凭吊楚汉祠庙，借「不知何处是鸿沟」一问，写当年楚河汉界终归湮没，兴亡如梦、成败皆空。生当南宋末季，咏楚汉旧事未始无借古伤今之隐衷，冷语中含热肠，谐语中寓深悲。【名句点睛】「不知何处是鸿沟」以设问收束，界线之湮没即是历史记忆之湮没，轻轻一问压住全诗二十八字，兴亡之慨尽在其中，言尽而意不尽。

Background

Hu Zhonggong, courtesy name Xisheng, was a native of Qingyuan in Fujxi, a late Southern Song poet whose career is poorly documented; his Wei-hang Man-you Gao survives, recovered from the Yongle Encyclopedia by the Qing editors of the Siku. His poems favor pastoral reclusion and visits to historic sites, in a fresh and correct manner close to the Jianghu circle. "The Shrines of Liu and Xiang" was prompted by two temples—one to Liu Bang, one to Xiang Yu—standing face to face at some place he visited: Chu and Han fought, Liu won the empire, Xiang cut his own throat at the Wu River, yet later ages built shrines to both, hero and failure in joint worship, itself a thought-provoking historical landscape. "Dragon countenance" for Liu and "crowned monkey" for Xiang both come verbatim from the Shiji's annals, the poet borrowing the historian's own words for effects both solemn and mocking. The date is unknown, but as a poet of the last years of the Song, watching national affairs decay, his poems on the past habitually hide present pain: the closing "no one knows where the Honggou is" is not only an elegy for Chu and Han but a veiled grief for his own dynasty's shrinking borders, and the reader must not take it as mere antiquarianism.

胡仲弓，字希圣，清源（今属福建）人，南宋后期诗人，生平仕履记载不详，有《苇航漫游稿》传世，清修《四库全书》自《永乐大典》辑录其集。其诗多写田园隐逸、登临怀古之作，诗风清新雅正，与当时江湖诗坛颇有过从。此诗《刘项祠》为题咏古迹之作，所咏者当为楚汉之争的两位主角刘邦、项羽之祠庙，二祠相望于某地，诗人因凭吊而发兴亡之感。楚汉相争，胜者刘邦有天下，败者项羽自刎乌江，后世或崇其霸业、或悲其末路，立祠并祀，两雄同庙，本身便是耐人寻味的历史景观。诗中「祀了龙颜祀沐猴」一句，以「龙颜」指刘邦、「沐猴」指项羽，皆出《史记》本纪所载之语，借史传成辞入诗，庄谐并作。末句「不知何处是鸿沟」，以鸿沟之界早已湮没无存，点出当年楚河汉界终归一空，兴亡如梦之意尽在其中。此诗作年不详，当系诗人游历所见有感而发。南宋末季，国势飘摇，诗人咏楚汉兴亡，未始无借古伤今之隐衷。胡仲弓生当宋季，目睹国事日非，其怀古之作往往于兴亡之际寄寓隐痛，此诗以「不知何处是鸿沟」作结，正有借楚汉旧事暗伤时局之意，读者不可徒以咏史视之。

Art

The poem takes the shrines as its warp and history as its weft, holding the whole meaning of rise and fall in twenty-eight characters. The opening "two shrines face each other" gives the buildings the posture of confrontation, as though the two dead enemies still held their ground below ground, while "how many springs and autumns" stretches time to the horizon and fills the start with desolation. The second line's folk-style repetition—"sacrificed to the dragon countenance, sacrificed to the crowned monkey"—sets one solemn and one derisive title side by side, the people's unselfconscious verdict on victory and defeat, cold and satiric. The third line turns to solid geography, stream-south and ridge-north, the two shrines each in place. Then the last line asks: the Honggou that once split the empire in two—where is it now, in this landscape of paired temples? "No one knows" casts the answer away, opening the solid scene onto historical void, and the feeling that rise and fall were a dream and success and failure alike are empty spreads out of the single light question. Solid then empty, space writing time, a small scene carrying a great history, cold words with a warm current—and all this through language borrowed from country talk, "the common made elegant," a fine product of the Southern Song historical quatrain.

此诗以祠堂为经、以史事为纬，二十八字中含藏兴亡大义。起句「二祠相望几春秋」，以「相望」二字写两祠对立的姿态，仿佛两位死对头于地下仍各踞一方，「几春秋」则把时间推向漫长，一开篇便有苍茫之感。次句「祀了龙颜祀沐猴」，以俚语式的复沓出之，「祀了」「祀沐猴」一庄一谐，「龙颜」尊之、「沐猴」辱之，正是民间对刘项二人功过是非的朴素评判，冷隽而见讽意。第三句「章戴溪南梨岭北」转写地望，溪南山北，方位分明，两祠各据一隅之状如在目前。结句「不知何处是鸿沟」陡发一问：当年楚汉以鸿沟中分天下，何等森严的界线，如今庙宇对峙之地，竟已无人说得清鸿沟何在。以「不知」二字作答，宕开一笔，把眼前的祠堂引向历史的虚空，兴亡如梦、成败皆空的感慨便从这轻轻一问中弥漫开来。全诗前实后虚，以空间写时间，以小景写大史，冷语中含热肠，谐语中寓深悲，是南宋咏史绝句中的佳作。尤妙者在以俚语入诗而不失雅致：「祀了龙颜祀沐猴」一句，口吻如乡野父老闲谈，而其下却藏着庄严的兴亡之思，雅俗相济，正是宋人「以俗为雅」诗法在此类小诗中的灵活运用。

Allusions

"Dragon countenance" comes from the Shiji's Annals of Gaozu: Liu Bang had "an aquiline nose and a dragon's countenance, a fine beard," and the term became the standing sign of an emperor’s face—here standing for Liu Bang himself. "Crowned monkey" comes from the Annals of Xiang Yu: urged to make his capital within the passes, Xiang longed for home and said, "to be rich and honored and not return to one's old village is to walk embroidered clothes at night—who would know?" Someone mocked, "they say the men of Chu are monkeys with caps—it is indeed so," and Xiang boiled the speaker alive: "monkey with a cap" ridicules a man of surface without substance, and its use here for Xiang follows the historian's derision. "Honggou," too, is from the Annals of Xiang Yu: when Chu and Han stalemated, "they divided the empire in two, the land west of the Honggou being Han's, the east being Chu's," which made the canal the standing emblem of the Chu-Han border. "Zhangdai Stream" and "Li Ridge" are the local names of the shrines' neighborhood, paired to give the exact lie of the land. "How many springs and autumns" takes the chronicle-word for years and lets the length of time set off the speed of dynastic change. All the allusions come straight from the histories yet dissolve without a trace—the model of "history as material, poetry as form."

「龙颜」典出《史记·高祖本纪》：刘邦「隆准而龙颜，美须髯」，后世遂以「龙颜」指帝王之相，此处代指刘邦。「沐猴」典出《史记·项羽本纪》：项羽都关中，有人劝其建都关中，项羽心怀东归之思，答曰「富贵不归故乡，如衣绣夜行，谁知之者」，说者讥之曰「人言楚人沐猴而冠耳，果然」，项羽闻之大怒，烹杀说者。沐猴即猕猴，「沐猴而冠」讥人虚有其表，此处以「沐猴」称项羽，沿史传讥评而含贬义。「鸿沟」亦见《史记·项羽本纪》：楚汉相持，「中分天下，割鸿沟以西者为汉，鸿沟而东者为楚」，鸿沟遂成楚汉分界的代名词，后人咏楚汉事多用此典。「章戴溪」「梨岭」当系祠庙所在之地名，诗人以地名对举，实写二祠地望之相邻，亦见祠堂皆立于一乡一方之实。又「几春秋」之语，化用《公羊传》「春秋」纪年之传统，以岁月之长衬兴亡之速，全诗用典皆取自史传而能浑融无迹，正是咏史诗「以史为材、以诗为体」的典范。又「二祠相望」之语，暗用「相望」一词于咏史诗中写对峙之势，后世咏赤壁、乌江诸作每以「相望」状战场与庙祠，此诗实开其端绪，用字虽寻常而含蕴自深。

Commentary

Sima Qian's verdict in the Annals of Xiang Yu—"though his position did not endure, there had been nothing like him since antiquity"—praised Xiang while mourning him, opening the long tradition of "reversal" verdicts on Chu and Han. Du Mu's "Inscribed on the Wu River Pavilion" defended Xiang—"had he borne the shame and rolled up again, who knows?"; Wang Anshi's poem on the same site refuted Du Mu and pronounced his doom certain. Hu Zhonggong's poem joins in none of these arguments: it merely observes, with a cold eye, that the folk sacrifice to both winner and loser, and closes with the unanswerable question of the vanished boundary—its attitude poised between pity and detachment, marking the Southern Song shift from argumentative reversal toward reserved feeling. Collected in the Wei-hang Man-you Gao, whose poems the Siku editors described as fresh and correct in the mode of excursions and meditation on the past, it can be read beside his travel pieces. Where late Song Jianghu poets' historical pieces too often degenerated into clever argument, this poem achieves depth in ease—no startling thesis, and aftertaste all the same—a rare poem of balance and equanimity among the last generation's verse on history.

《史记·项羽本纪》太史公曰：「夫秦失其政，陈涉首难，豪杰蜂起，相与并争，不可胜数。然羽非有尺寸，乘势起陇亩之中，三年，遂将五诸侯灭秦，分裂天下，而封王侯，政由羽出，号为霸王。位虽不终，近古以来未尝有也。」此赞语以「近古以来未尝有」称许项羽，而以「位虽不终」暗含惋惜，是后世咏刘项者「翻案」之滥觞。杜牧《题乌江亭》「胜败兵家事不期，包羞忍耻是男儿。江东子弟多才俊，卷土重来未可知」，为项羽辩护；王安石《乌江亭》「百战疲劳壮士哀，中原一败势难回。江东子弟今虽在，肯与君王卷土来」，则驳杜牧而断其必亡。胡仲弓此诗不作翻案之论，只以「祀了龙颜祀沐猴」的冷眼写民间祭祀之态，复以「不知何处是鸿沟」一问收束，态度在惋惜与冷峻之间，正见南宋咏史诗由议论翻案转向含蕴感慨之变化。又此诗见收于《苇航漫游稿》，四库馆臣称其集多写田园登览之什，诗格清雅，此诗即在登览怀古一类中，可与其行旅纪游之作互参。又南宋末年江湖诗人多有咏史之作，然多流于翻案逞巧，胡仲弓此诗却能于闲淡中见沉郁，不故作惊人之论而自有余味，是宋末咏史诗中难得的中和平正之作。

Prosody

Form Seven-character quatrain (qiyan jueju)七言绝句

Rhyme Level-tone rhyme; the rhyme words qiu, hou, gou belong to the you rhyme (Ci-lin Zheng-yun division twelve)押平声韵，韵字属《词林正韵》第十二部（下平十一尤）

Tone pattern Level-opening, level-closing pattern; the first line enters the rhyme, and lines two and four rhyme平起平收式，首句入韵，二四句叶韵

Reading note This is a seven-character quatrain, level-opening and level-closing, with the first line rhyming; the rhyme words "qiu," "hou," and "gou" all belong to the level you rhyme, wide and long-drawn, exactly right for the tone of historical meditation. In tonal mechanics, the first line "two shrines face each other across how many springs and autumns" scans oblique-level-level-oblique-oblique-level-level (the first character substituting oblique for level, which the rules allow); the second line, "having sacrificed to the dragon countenance, sacrificed to the crowned monkey," scans oblique-oblique-level-level-oblique-oblique-level, its paired nouns "dragon countenance" against "crowned monkey" producing solemnity and mockery by themselves; the third line scans level-oblique-level-level-level-oblique-oblique and closes oblique; the final line, "no one knows anymore where the Honggou once ran," scans oblique-level-level-oblique-oblique-level-level. Both couplets are in accord, with no irregular lines, and the beauty lies in the varied cadence: the first two lines end on level tones and move slowly; the last two close oblique then level with deliberate checks, and the final question trails off on the level word "gou," its lingering sound precisely matching the lost, wistful air of "no one knows where"—sound and sense unified in one breath.此诗为七言绝句，平起平收，首句入韵，韵字「秋、猴、沟」三字皆属下平十一尤，属《词林正韵》第十二部，尤韵宽平悠长，正宜作咏史感慨之调。格律上，首句「二祠相望几春秋」作仄平平仄仄平平，首字「二」以仄代平，一三可不论，于法无碍；次句「祀了龙颜祀沐猴」作仄仄平平仄仄平，「龙颜」对「沐猴」，以名词相耦而庄谐自见。第三句「章戴溪南梨岭北」作平仄平平平仄仄，末句「不知何处是鸿沟」作仄平平仄仄平平。全诗两联皆平仄相谐，中无拗句，而妙在节奏错落：前二句「几春秋」「祀沐猴」以平声收束，语气舒缓；后二句一仄收、一平收，顿挫有致，末句一问以平声「沟」字悠悠煞尾，正与「不知何处」的怅惘语气相生，声情与句意合而为一。

Line by line

二祠相望几春秋，祀了龙颜祀沐猴。

The two shrines face each other through untold springs and autumns: the people sacrifice to the dragon countenance, then turn and sacrifice to the crowned monkey.

两座祠堂遥遥相对，不知历经了多少春秋；人们祭祀过高祖刘邦，又来祭祀沐猴而冠的项羽。

The two shrines face each other through how many springs and autumns? They have sacrificed to the Dragon Countenance, and now sacrifice to the monkey in the cap.

起句写两祠对峙之景，「相望」二字妙极，仿佛两位死敌于幽冥中仍互不相让，几百年的恩怨凝成这庙宇相望的姿态。「几春秋」一问，把时间推到无尽，繁华与枯荣都从这「相望」中流过。次句「祀了龙颜祀沐猴」，以复沓句法写香火的轮替：先祀刘邦，后祀项羽，民众对成败两途都致以香火，其中既有对英雄的崇拜，也有对败者的怜悯，更有对兴亡无常的懵然。「龙颜」之尊与「沐猴」之辱并置，庄谐相激，历史的荒诞感便在这一祀一祀之间悄然浮现，冷隽之味耐人咀嚼。

The opening line writes the two shrines facing each other; the words face each other are most fine, as if the two dead enemies, in the underworld, still would not yield, and the grudges of centuries have coagulated into the posture of the temples' facing each other. The question of how many springs and autumns pushes time to the endless, and splendor and withering both flow past through this facing. The second, they have sacrificed to the Dragon Countenance, and now sacrifice to the monkey in the cap, writes the rotation of incense in a repeated syntax: first sacrificing Liu Bang, then Xiang Yu, the people bringing incense to both paths of success and failure, within which is at once worship of the hero, pity for the loser, and blank confusion at the impermanence of rise and fall.

章戴溪南梨岭北，不知何处是鸿沟。

The shrines stand south of Zhangdai Stream and north of Li Ridge, yet no one knows anymore where the Honggou boundary once ran.

祠堂就在章戴溪的南边、梨岭的北边，可如今谁还知道当年的鸿沟在哪里呢。

South of the Zhangdai Stream, north of the Pear Ridge - who knows where the Honggou is now?

结联由实入虚，是全诗点题之笔。前句以「溪南」「岭北」写祠堂的地理方位，具体而微，仿佛要为历史安放一个落脚点；后句却陡然一问，当年割中分天下的鸿沟，如今已渺不可寻。「不知」二字，既是诗人的怅惘，也是历史的回答：当年刘项以鸿沟划界，何等壁垒分明，如今连界线的所在都无人知晓，则成败兴亡又有什么可争可执。以地理之实写历史之虚，以眼前之庙写千古之空，二十八字到此戛然而止，而余味无穷，正得绝句「以少许胜多许」之妙。

The closing couplet moves from solid to void, the poem's brush that points out the title. The first writes the shrines' geographic position with south of the stream and north of the ridge, concrete and minute; the second abruptly asks, where the Honggou that in those years divided the world is now, already dim and untraceable. The words do not know are at once the poet's wistfulness and history's answer: in those years Liu and Xiang set the boundary at the Honggou, how clearly the ramparts, yet now even the place of the boundary is unknown to anyone; then what is there to contend for and hold to in success and failure, rise and fall?

祀了龙颜祀沐猴。

Having sacrificed to the dragon countenance of Gaozu, the people sacrifice as well to Xiang Yu, the monkey with a cap.

祭祀过高祖刘邦，又来祭祀沐猴而冠的项羽。

They have sacrificed to the Dragon Countenance, and now sacrifice to the monkey in the cap.

七字单句从首联中抽出，独立成赏，正因其为全诗最冷峻的一笔。祠庙香火，本是后人致祭之诚，此处却写「祀了」又「祀」，把胜利者与失败者、真龙天子与沐猴霸王等量齐观，一律供上神龛。这其间有民间的混沌：凡为英雄皆可祭祀，成败在他们眼中并无高下；也有诗人的冷眼：历史的胜负被香火如此轻巧地抹平，千百年争夺的楚汉，在乡民的香火中不过是两尊并列的神像。「祀了」二字口语入诗，与「沐猴」之讥相映，庄谐之间，历史的分量忽然变得轻飘起来，讽刺与悲悯并见。

This short repeated line writes they have sacrificed to the Dragon Countenance, and now sacrifice to the monkey in the cap, the poem's bitter turn. The words Dragon Countenance write Liu Bang, the monkey in the cap Xiang Yu, the two sacrifice's rotation. The line writes to the full the feeling of the two sacrifices. Writing the rotation through the two rulers, the poem's satiric stroke.

不知何处是鸿沟。

No one knows where the old Honggou line, the boundary between Chu and Han, is anymore.

谁也不知道当年的鸿沟到底在哪里了。

Who knows where the Honggou is now?

七字以设问收束，是全诗情感的落点。鸿沟本是楚汉中分天下的界河，当年以此为界，楚河汉界壁垒森严，何等郑重；如今却无人知道它在哪里，界线的湮没即是历史记忆的湮没，也是当年那场生死之争的意义的消解。着一「不知」，诗人的怅惘与历史的苍茫一同弥漫开来：界限既已无从寻觅，成败胜负、霸王高祖，又何须再分高下？此句与「二祠相望」首尾呼应，以祠庙之在衬鸿沟之亡，兴亡如梦之慨，尽在这轻轻一问之中。

This short repeated line writes who knows where the Honggou is now? the closing question. The words do not know write the blankness, the Honggou the old Chu-Han boundary. The line writes to the full the feeling of the lost boundary. Writing the void through the lost boundary, the poem's eye-dotting close.

Study

Word focus

祀 The doubled use of si, "to sacrifice," is the poem's most deliberate device: the repetition of "sacrificed to... sacrificed to" shows the incense passing from Liu Bang to Xiang Yu in turn, as if the people held no verdict on history but enthroned every hero alike—a solemn word of ritual set beside the mockery of "crowned monkey," so that gravity and jest collide and the satire arrives entirely between the lines. 「祀了龙颜祀沐猴」一句复用两个「祀」字，是此诗最见匠心的安排。「祀了」「祀沐猴」两个「祀」字前后勾连，形成复沓递进，写香火之祭既及于刘邦、又及于项羽，轮番供奉，仿佛民众对历史人物并无成见，只把成败英雄一律请上神坛。「祀」字本为庄严祭祀之语，此处却与「沐猴」相连，庄严与戏谑相撞，讽意油然而生：民间如此供祀，究竟是尊崇英雄，还是拿历史当儿戏？一「祀」之复，庄谐并见，冷隽之致尽在言外，是此诗立骨之字。

相望 The word xiang-wang, "to face each other," gives two lifeless shrines the posture of confrontation: "gaze" belongs to living eyes, and moved onto buildings it makes the two temples stand like the two lords glaring across a river, the enmity of their lifetimes inherited by their temples; yet a gaze is only a gaze—the shrines can never speak, and facing each other for a thousand years they end in silence, which is where the poem's grief settles. 「二祠相望几春秋」之「相望」，将两座无生命的祠堂写得仿佛有对峙之意。「望」字本用于人之远眺，移以写祠，则二祠如两雄隔水相望、互不相让，生前楚汉争天下，死后香火分庙宇，连庙宇都继承着生前的对峙姿态。着一「相望」，历史的恩怨便从「几春秋」的苍茫中复活，静物忽然有了戏剧性。而「望」终究只是「望」，二祠终不能言，相望千载而终归于默然，兴亡之叹便在这相对无言的「望」字里沉淀下来，冷隽中自含深慨。

不知 The words bu-zhi, "no one knows," are the hinge by which the poem turns from solid to void: everything before—the shrines, the rites, stream-south and ridge-north—is fixed on the ground, but with "no one knows" the brush suddenly hangs in the air, leading the real landscape into the void of history; the Honggou had a real location, yet the poet insists no one knows it—meaning no one takes it for a border anymore, no one remembers where it stood—two weightless characters carrying the whole weight of twenty-eight, the model of the function-word transmitting spirit in the historical quatrain. 「不知何处是鸿沟」之「不知」，是全诗转虚的关键字眼。前文写二祠、写祀典、写溪南岭北，皆落实于眼前地理；此「不知」一出，笔势陡然悬空，把实写之景引向历史之虚。鸿沟本有定所，而诗人偏言「不知」，非真不知也，乃无人再以之为界、无人再记其址之谓，一「不知」写尽千秋兴废之后人心的遗忘。「不知」二字，既是对历史的发问，也是对人世的慨叹，轻飘飘两个字，却压住了全诗二十八字的分量，是咏史绝句中以虚字传神的典范。

刘项祠