唐 Tang · 文 Prose
吊古战场文·版本
An Elegy on the Ancient Battlefield (Version)
浩浩乎平沙无垠，夐不见人。
河水萦带，群山纠纷。
黯兮惨悴，风悲日曛。
蓬断草枯，凛若霜晨。
Meaning
This excerpt opens Li Hua's famous 'Elegy on the Ancient Battlefield' with a panorama of desolation. The level sands stretch boundless and empty, no human figure in sight; the river winds like a girdle while the mountains cluster in disorder. The sky is dark and mournful, the wind sighs and the sun sinks into dusk; the broken tumbleweed and withered grass make the air as cold as a frost-covered dawn. Eight four-character phrases move from distance to near, from ground to sky, layering a dead, desolate atmosphere for the battlefield and setting the tone of lament and anti-war sentiment that pervades the whole piece.
浩浩荡荡的平沙一望无垠，极目远望也看不见人影。河水像带子一样萦回环绕，群山交错纷杂地聚在一起。天色黯淡而惨然憔悴，风声悲鸣而日色昏暗。蓬草折断、野草干枯，凛冽得像严霜覆盖的清晨。
Appreciation
Plain paraphrase: The opening unfolds a full view of the ancient battlefield: boundless sands and no trace of man, only the river winding and the hills tangled; the sky dim and wan, the wind mourning, the sun dusk; broken tumbleweed and withered grass, chill as a frosty morn. Eight four-character lines, from far to near, from ground to sky, layer by layer render the dead silence and desolation of the ancient battlefield, establishing the tone of lament and the theme of anti-war for the whole piece. Artistic features: This passage is a model opening of parallel prose: mainly four-character lines, with neat antithesis (the river winds like a sash against the hills crowd in confusion; the broken tumbleweed against the chill as a frosty morn), combining sound and sight (the mourning wind is heard, the dusk sun is seen), using heavy environmental rendering to build a tragic mood—a timeless famous stroke of 'arousing feeling through scene, writing emotion through atmosphere.' Feeling and theme: On the surface it writes the desolation of the ancient battlefield; at its bone it lodges a deep lament for the slaughtered of ages and a pointed condemnation of militarism, embodying the humane feeling of the High Tang literati who 'grieved the hardships of the common people.' Famous lines: Often examined are 'Vast, vast—the level sands without bound; far, far, no man is seen' and 'Dim and drear, the light is wan; the wind mourns, the sun grows dusk'—the opening four lines of scene writing sorrow and atmosphere conveying feeling, long ranked the extreme of environmental rendering in literature lamenting the past.
【白话串讲】 李华写《吊古战场文》：“浩浩乎平沙无垠，夐不见人”——古战场一片荒凉。“河水萦带，群山纠纷”——“黯兮惨悴，风悲日曛”——“蓬断草枯，凛若霜晨”——他写战场的苍凉，“伤心哉！秦欤？汉欤？将近代欤”——他感叹战争的残酷。 【意象与手法】 此段是骈文开篇的典范：四字句为主，对仗工整（河水萦带对群山纠纷，蓬断草枯对凛若霜晨），视听结合（风悲是听，日曛是视），以浓重的环境渲染营造悲怆氛围，是「借景起兴、以境写情」的千古名笔。 【情感与主旨】 表面写古战场的荒凉景象，骨子里寄寓对历代战争惨祸的沉痛凭吊与对穷兵黩武的深切谴责，体现了盛唐文人「哀生民之多艰」的人道情怀。 【名句点睛】 常考「浩浩乎平沙无垠，夐不见人」与「黯兮惨悴，风悲日曛」——以景写悲、以境传情的开篇四句，历来被推为吊古文学中环境渲染的极致。
Background
The author of 'An Elegy on the Ancient Battlefield,' Li Hua (715–774), styled Xiaoshu, was a native of Zhaoprefecture's Zanhuang (present Zanhuang, Hebei), a renowned prose writer and poet of the late High Tang. A jinshi of the twenty-third year of Kaiyuan, in the Tianbao era he served as investigating censor, later demoted after the An Lushan Rebellion for having accepted a puppet office; in his late years he retired to Shanyang. He and Xiao Yingshi were equally famed, called 'Xiao and Li,' both forerunners of the Tang classical prose movement, advocating 'writing to carry the Way' and correcting the ornate excess of Six Dynasties parallel prose. The elegy was written during the Tianbao era (c. 747), when Emperor Xuanzong waged relentless wars on Tibet, the Khitan, and the Xi, frontier generals seeking merit and stirring trouble, soldiers' white bones covering the fields—Du Fu's 'The war frontier flows blood like the sea; the Martial Emperor's border-expanding will is not yet spent' is a contemporary witness. Li Hua, living through that age and witnessing the suffering of conscription, used 'lamenting the past' to write the reality of 'grieving the present': phrases like 'from the Qin and Han onward, much trouble with the four barbarians' and 'the central plain wasted, no age without it' shadow the border wars of the Kaiyuan–Tianbao years. Beginning with the desolate 'vast, vast—the level sands without bound,' the piece narrates the battles, the garrison soldiers, the catastrophe, and ends in the humane ideal of 'garrison at the four barbarians'—a masterpiece of parallel prose writing grief and using the past to satirize the present, alongside Du Fu's 'Ballad of the War Carts' and Gao Shi's 'Yan Ge Xing' as a representative of High Tang anti-war literature. This excerpt is its opening, rousing passage.
《吊古战场文》作者李华（715—774），字遐叔，赵郡赞皇（今河北赞皇）人，盛唐后期著名散文家、诗人，开元二十三年进士，天宝中官监察御史，后因事去官，安史之乱中被俘受伪职，乱平贬官，晚年隐居山阳。他与萧颖士齐名，世称「萧李」，同为唐代古文运动的先驱，主张「文以载道」，力矫六朝以来骈文的绮靡之弊。《吊古战场文》作于天宝年间（约747年前后），其时唐玄宗穷兵黩武，连年对吐蕃、契丹、奚等用兵，边将邀功生事，士卒白骨蔽野，杜甫《兵车行》「边庭流血成海水，武皇开边意未已」正是同时代的写照。李华身历其世，目睹征戍之苦，遂借「吊古」之名写「伤今」之实：文中「秦汉而还，多事四夷」「中州耗斁，无世无之」等语，实是借历代战祸影射开元天宝间开边战争的惨剧。全文以「浩浩乎平沙无垠」的苍凉景象起兴，历叙古战场上的征战、戍卒、惨祸，终归于「守在四夷」的仁政理想，是一篇以骈文写悲慨、以吊古寓讽今的杰作，与杜甫《兵车行》、高适《燕歌行》并为盛唐反战文学的代表作。本文所截即其开篇起兴数句。
Art
As the opening of parallel prose, its artistry may be seen in four aspects. First, the prospect moves from grand to minute: it first writes the vastness of 'level sands without bound,' then the landforms of 'river winds like a sash, hills crowd in confusion,' then narrows to the near scene of 'broken tumbleweed and withered grass'—the lens from far to near, large to small, like a scroll slowly unrolling, finally fixing on the most striking detail of desolation, orderly in layers. Second, it writes both sight and sound, color and feeling: 'the wind mourns' is auditory, 'the sun grows dusk' visual, 'dim and drear' a general write of light and color, 'chill as a frosty morn' a direct write of bodily sensation—sight, sound, touch, feeling intermingle, making the dead silence of the ancient battlefield palpable. Third, mainly four-character lines with neat antithesis: 'vast, vast—the level sands without bound; far, far, no man is seen' leads with the exclamatory 'hu'; 'the river winds like a sash, the hills crowd in confusion,' 'dim and drear, the light is wan; the wind mourns, the sun grows dusk,' and 'the broken tumbleweed, the withered grass; chill as a frosty morn' are three groups of four-character antithetical lines, like three folds of a mournful song unfolding in sequence—orderly in diction yet vast in mood, a model of parallel prose that 'shows spirit within order.' Fourth, the characters are wrought: 'winds like a sash' compares the river to a belt, writing its winding; 'crowd in confusion' writes the hills' tangled force, like tangled hemp—both highly crafted; 'dusk' (xun) writes the dim of the setting sun, more desolate than 'dark'; 'chill' (lin) writes bone-piercing cold, pressing to the frosty dawn. Not one of the eight lines lacks deliberation, yet read in one breath without trace of carving—showing Li Hua's superb wrist of 'parallel and prose interworking, breath moving the diction.' Brief as it is, this passage suffices to show the beauty of parallel prose's 'arousing through scene, setting tone through atmosphere.'
此段作为骈文开篇，其艺术匠心可从四个方面看。其一，取景由宏入微：先写「平沙无垠」的旷远，再写「河水萦带、群山纠纷」的地貌，继而收至「蓬断草枯」的近景，镜头由远及近、由大及小，如画卷徐徐展开，最终定格于最触目的荒败细节，层次井然。其二，视听兼写、声色并作：「风悲」是听觉，「日曛」是视觉，「黯兮惨悴」是总写光色，「凛若霜晨」是直写体感，视、听、触、感四觉交融，把古战场的死寂写得可感可触。其三，四字句为主、对仗工整：「浩浩乎平沙无垠，夐不见人」以「乎」字感叹领起，破骈偶于先；「河水萦带，群山纠纷」「黯兮惨悴，风悲日曛」「蓬断草枯，凛若霜晨」三组四字对句，如三叠悲歌次第展开，词采整饬而意境苍茫，是骈文「于整饬中见气韵」的典范。其四，炼字传神：「萦带」以带喻河，写水之回环，「纠纷」写山之势杂，如乱麻纠结，皆极锤炼；「曛」字写黄昏落日之昏暗，比「昏」更见日光将尽的惨淡；「凛」字写寒意砭骨，直逼霜晨之晨寒。八句之中，无一字不经过推敲，而读来一气呵成，毫无雕琢之痕，可见李华「骈散相济、以气运辞」的高超腕力。此段虽短，已足见骈文「以景起兴、以境定调」的章法之美。
Allusions
Though this passage is scene-opening, its imagery and diction are deeply rooted in Chinese literary tradition. First, the image of 'level sands without bound' has a long lineage: since Han frontier poetry, 'level sands' and 'vast sea' became classic images of battlegrounds; Bao Zhao's 'Fu on the Ruined City' ('the lone tumbleweed stirs itself, startled sand flies sitting') and Yu Xin's 'Fu on Lamenting the South' ('of old the tiger crouched, the dragon coiled, with yellow banners and purple aura') both write rise-and-fall through ruined cities and forts; Li Hua's opening with 'level sands' follows the Six Dynasties parallel-fu tradition of 'lamenting the past,' setting the desolate tone for the whole lament. Second, 'the river winds like a sash' covertly holds the ancient omen of 'river and mountain like belt and whetstone': the ancients compared rivers to a girdle—Emperor Gaozu's oath to his meritorious ministers, 'the Yellow River as a belt, Mount Tai as a whetstone,' originally figured enduring rule; here the river still winds and the hills unchanged, only human affairs are gone—the eternal hills and rivers set against vanished life naturally stir the thought of lamenting the past. Third, 'the hills crowd in confusion' writes the hills' tangled disorder, covertly figuring the ancient battlefield after slaughter—corpses strewn, hills and streams discolored; 'confusion' writes both hill and history, as if the battlefield's martial aura still congeals among the hills. Fourth, 'the wind mourns, the sun grows dusk' and 'chill as a frosty morn' inherit the Chuci tradition of lamenting autumn: Song Yu's 'Nine Arguments' ('sorrowful, autumn's breath—desolate, the plants shake loose and decay') opens autumn lament; Wang Can's 'Fu on Climbing the Tower' ('the wind soughs and rises, the sky is gloomy and colorless') writes mournful wind and dim sun; Li Hua's passage is one link in this 'mournful wind, dim sun' lineage, using heaven-and-earth's desolation to write humanity's catastrophe, making every scene line build force for the later lament 'how sorrowful! Qin or Han, or nearer ages?'
此段虽为写景起兴，其意象与语汇却深植于中国文学的传统土壤。其一，「平沙无垠」的意象源流悠长：自汉代边塞诗始，「平沙」「瀚海」即成为描写征战之地的经典意象，鲍照《芜城赋》「孤蓬自振，惊沙坐飞」、庾信《哀江南赋》「昔之虎踞龙盘，加以黄旗紫气」皆以荒城废垒写兴亡，李华以「平沙」开篇，正是承六朝骈赋「吊古」传统而来，为全篇凭吊之情定下苍凉的基调。其二，「河水萦带」暗含「山河带砺」的古老符命：古人以「带」喻河流之环绕，汉高祖封功臣有「黄河如带，泰山若砺」之誓，本喻江山永固，而此处河水萦带依旧、山河不改，唯人事已非，以永恒之山河对照消逝之生命，吊古之思油然而生。其三，「群山纠纷」写山势之杂乱纠结，暗喻古战场上千军万马厮杀后的尸横遍野、山川失色，「纠纷」二字既是写山，亦是写史，山川间仿佛还凝结着古战场的杀气。其四，「风悲日曛」「凛若霜晨」承《楚辞》悲秋传统：宋玉《九辩》「悲哉秋之为气也，萧瑟兮草木摇落而变衰」开悲秋之端，王粲《登楼赋》「风萧瑟而并兴兮，天惨惨而无色」写悲风惨日，李华此段正是这一「悲风惨日」意象谱系中的一环，以天地之惨淡写人间之惨祸，使写景句句都在为后文「伤心哉！秦欤汉欤，将近代欤」的悲慨蓄势。
Commentary
'An Elegy on the Ancient Battlefield' is a famous piece of Tang parallel prose and one of the most celebrated anti-war essays in Chinese literary history, long highly praised. In literature, it was anthologized by the Qing in 'A Collection of Parallel Prose' and many selections; its opening 'vast, vast—the level sands without bound; far, far, no man is seen' writes the vast with parallel form, ranked the extreme of 'parallel prose writing grief'; Qing critics praised it as 'throughout taking grief as its bone, yet its diction is splendid,' showing that though Li Hua was a forerunner of the classical prose movement, his parallel prose achievement was equally supreme. In thought, the essay uses lamenting the past as name but satirizing the present as fact, enumerating the catastrophes of border wars from Qin and Han—'slain fill the wild,' 'bones exposed on the sand'—and ending in the humane ideal of 'garrison at the four barbarians,' sounding with 'Ballad of the War Carts' and 'Yan Ge Xing' as the strong note of High Tang anti-war literature; its passage 'vast, vast the common people—who lacks father and mother? upheld and borne, fearing they will not live long' writes the conscript's misery through human ties, especially piercing, seen by critics as a typical expression of High Tang humane spirit. In literary history, this essay inherits the parallel-fu tradition of Bao Zhao's 'Fu on the Ruined City' and Yu Xin's 'Fu on Lamenting the South,' and opens the way for Du Mu's 'Fu on the Epang Palace' ('the six kings finished, the four seas one') of fu satirizing the present—a pivotal work in parallel prose's turn from Six-Dynasties ornateness to Tang realism. Li Hua himself, for 'able to honor the classics in writing,' was named with Xiao Yingshi, seen as the precursor of Han Yu's classical prose movement; 'An Elegy on the Ancient Battlefield' is the best footnote to his creed of 'writing with the ancient Way, writing with a humane heart.'
《吊古战场文》是唐代骈文中的名篇，也是中国文学史上最著名的反战散文之一，历来评价极高。文学上，此文被清人收入《骈体文钞》与诸多文选，其开篇「浩浩乎平沙无垠，夐不见人」等句，以骈偶之体写苍茫之境，被推为「以骈文写悲慨」的极致；清代评家赞其「通篇以悲怆为骨，而词采烂然」，可见李华虽为古文运动先驱，其骈文成就同样卓绝。思想上，文章以吊古为名而讽今为实，历数秦汉以来开边战争「杀人盈野」「骨暴沙砾」的惨祸，终以「守在四夷」的仁政理想作结，与《兵车行》《燕歌行》同声相应，构成盛唐反战文学的强音；其「苍苍蒸民，谁无父母？提携捧负，畏其不寿」一段，以人伦之情写征戍之惨，尤为沉痛，被论者视为盛唐人道主义精神的典型表达。在文学史上，此文上承鲍照《芜城赋》、庾信《哀江南赋》的骈赋吊古传统，下启杜牧《阿房宫赋》「六王毕，四海一」的赋体讽今笔法，是骈文由六朝绮靡转向唐代写实的枢纽之作。李华本人亦因「文能宗经」而与萧颖士并称，被视为韩愈古文运动的先声；《吊古战场文》正是他「以古道为文、以仁心为文」主张的最佳注脚。
Prosody
Line by line
浩浩乎平沙无垠，夐不见人。
The opening two lines set the tone for the whole piece, famous lines of 'arousing through atmosphere' in literature lamenting the past. The three words 'vast, vast' (haohao hu), closing with the exclamatory 'hu,' seize the reader at once, pouring the sense of the boundless level sands directly into him; 'level sands without bound' writes spatial vastness, 'far, far, no man is seen' writes the dead silence of the human realm—the character 'xiong' (far, boundless) is especially fine, its original meaning 'distant,' here an adverb 'from afar,' joined with 'no man is seen' to write that gazing into the distance one sees nothing, adding a layer of remote desolation beyond 'far, far no man' or 'quite no man.' Together the two lines write the first trait of the ancient battlefield: emptiness. Yet this emptiness is not the grandeur of 'the lone smoke straight in the vast desert,' but the dead silence of 'no man is seen'—the vaster, the more absolute the isolation; the more no man, the more desolate. The whole piece writes the battlefield not from banners, drums, or fighting, but first from the emptiness after men have gone—the high craft of writing 'presence' through 'absence,' writing 'misery' through 'emptiness': the myriad conscripts have become dry bones, so no figure is seen on the level sands; the emptiness itself is the most piercing indictment. These two lines lay the first cornerstone for the whole piece's lament over the dead.
浩浩荡荡的平沙一望无垠，极目远望也看不见人的踪影。
Vast, the level sand without bound, far off and not a man.
开篇两句为全篇定下基调，是吊古文学中「以境起兴」的千古名句。「浩浩乎」三字以感叹词「乎」收束，先声夺人，把平沙无垠的旷远之感直接灌注给读者；「平沙无垠」写空间之辽阔，「夐不见人」写人间之死寂——「夐」字极见功力，本义为辽远，此处作副词「远远地」解，与「不见人」连用，写极目远眺而一无所见，比「远不见人」「殊不见人」更添一层遥远苍茫之意。两句合观，写出古战场的第一重特征：空旷。然而这空旷不是「大漠孤烟直」的壮阔，而是「不见人」的死寂——惟其辽阔，愈显孤绝；惟其无人，愈觉荒凉。全篇写战场，不从旌旗、鼓角、厮杀写起，而先写人去后的空，正是以「无」写「有」、以「空」写「惨」的高明笔法：百万征人已尽成枯骨，故平沙之上不见人影，空旷本身就是最沉痛的控诉。此两句为全篇「哀生民之死」的悲慨立下第一块基石。
The opening two lines fix the key of the whole, the age-famous line of rising through the scene in mourning literature. The three words vast, closing with the interjection hu, carry the voice first, pouring the far-off sense of the boundless level sand directly into the reader. The level sand without bound writes the space's vastness, far off and not a man writes the human dead silence - the word far off is the most polished, its root meaning distant, here as the adverb far, used with not a man, writing the gaze to the utmost yet seeing nothing, adding a layer of remote desolation beyond far off no man. The two lines together write the first feature of the ancient battlefield: emptiness. Yet this emptiness is not the grandeur of the lone smoke rising straight in the great desert, but the dead silence of not a man - the vaster, the more solitary; the more manless, the more desolate. The whole writes the battlefield not from banners, drums, or slaughter, but first from the emptiness after men are gone, exactly the high craft of writing being through nothing and writing the misery through the void: a million conscripts all become dry bones, hence on the level sand no man is seen, the emptiness itself the most bitter accusation. These two lines lay the first cornerstone of the whole's grief at the people's death.
河水萦带，群山纠纷。
These two lines write the landform of the ancient battlefield, turning from the emptiness of 'no man' to the real scene of hills and river—a model of parallel antithesis and a subtle stroke of 'conveying feeling through scene.' 'The river winds like a sash' compares the river to a belt: the water meanders like a ribbon winding among the level sands, apt and vivid; 'the hills crowd in confusion' writes the hills' tangled disorder, as if the hills, under history's weight, are pressed into a knot, inseparable. The upper line writes the river's softness and winding, the lower the hills' hardness and tangling—one soft, one hard, one moving, one still, forming neat antithesis (river against hills, winds like a sash against crowd in confusion), excellent in both music and diction. The deeper intent lies in the contrast of 'hills and river unchanged' against 'human affairs gone': the winding river and tangled hills are still those of the ancient battlefield a thousand years before, while the armored men of then are dust; only these speechless hills and river silently watch the rise and fall of history—using eternal landscape to set off brief human affairs is the very meaning of literature lamenting the past. Moreover, 'confusion' covertly holds martial aura, writing the hills' tangle as if the battlefield's killing aura and layered bones still congeal among them, spreading a heavy, gloomy ground for the later dim wind and broken tumbleweed.
河水像带子一样萦回环绕，群山交错纷杂地聚集在一起。
The river winds like a girdle, the hills tangled.
此两句写古战场的地貌，由「不见人」的空旷转入山河的实景，是骈文对仗的典范，也是「以景传情」的妙笔。「河水萦带」以带喻河：河水蜿蜒，如一条飘带萦回在平沙之间，比喻贴切而画面宛然；「群山纠纷」以「纠纷」写山之杂乱纠结，仿佛群山在历史的重压下挤作一团、难解难分。上句写水之柔、之回环，下句写山之刚、之纷杂，一柔一刚、一动一静，构成工整的对仗（河水对群山、萦带对纠纷），音律与辞采俱佳。而两句的深意在于「山河依旧」与「人事已非」的对照：萦带之河、纠纷之山，还是千百年前古战场上的河山，而当年金戈铁马的征人已化为尘土，唯剩这无言的山河静观着历史的兴亡——以永恒之山水衬短暂之人事，正是吊古文学的题中应有之义。此外，「纠纷」一词暗含杀气，写山之纠结，仿佛山川之间仍凝结着古战场的腾腾杀气与层层尸骨，为下文的惨悴风日、断蓬枯草铺展出浓重的阴惨底色。
The two lines write the ancient battlefield's landform, turning from the emptiness of not a man to the real scene of river and hills, the model of parallel prose, and the fine brush of conveying feeling through scenery. The river winds like a girdle uses the girdle for the river: the river winding, like a ribbon looping among the level sand, the simile apt and the picture vivid. The hills tangled uses tangled to write the hills' disordered knotting, as if the ranges under history's weight huddled together, hard to part. The upper line writes the water's softness and looping, the lower the hills' hardness and disorder, one soft one hard, one moving one still, forming a wrought parallel (the river against the hills, the girdle against the tangle), the tone and the diction both fine. The deep meaning of the two lines lies in the contrast of the hills and rivers as before and human affairs no more: the girdling river and tangled hills are still the hills and rivers of the ancient battlefield a thousand years ago, yet the armored riders of that year have turned to dust, only the speechless hills and rivers left calmly watching history's rise and fall - using the eternal water and hills to set off the brief human affairs, exactly the proper meaning of mourning literature. Besides, the word tangled secretly holds the killing air, writing the hills' knotting as if the mountains and rivers still condensed the ancient battlefield's rising killing air and layer on layer of bones, spreading a dense gloomy ground for the later forlorn wind and sun and broken reed.
黯兮惨悴，风悲日曛。
These two lines turn from landform to sky, taking 'drear' as bone, writing the light and sound of the ancient battlefield as if present. 'Dim and drear, the light is wan' writes the sky's dimness and dreariness: 'dim' (an) is the darkness of light, 'drear' (can cui) the sadness of manner—personifying the sky as 'wan' from the battlefield's catastrophe, moving feeling into scene, piercingly sorrowful; the 'xi' (兮) is an echo of Chuci syntax, the syllable drawn, adding a mournful chant. 'The wind mourns, the sun grows dusk' writes wind and sun: 'wind mourns' is auditory—the wind has no feeling, but the man is sad so he feels the wind mourn; 'sun dusk' (xun) is visual, the dim glow of the setting sun, writing the sun like a dying patient, pale and lightless. Within four characters, sound and color are both drear, heaven and earth grieve together. These two lines are a model of 'writing both sight and sound': using the heard 'wind mourns' for the heart's sorrow, the seen 'sun dusk' for the eye's dreariness, interweaving auditory and visual, pushing the gloomy atmosphere to its peak. A deeper meaning is 'heaven's wrath and men's grievance': the dim sky and mourning wind seem heaven and earth mourning the wronged souls, building the atmosphere of heaven-and-earth-grieving for the later direct lament 'how sorrowful! Qin or Han, or nearer ages?'
天色黯淡而惨然憔悴，风声悲鸣而日色昏暗，天地之间笼罩着一片阴惨凄凉的气氛。
Dismal, forlorn, the wind grieves, the sun dim.
此两句由地貌转入天象，以「惨」字为骨，把古战场的光色与声响写得如在目前。「黯兮惨悴」写天色之昏暗与惨淡：「黯」是光色之暗，「惨悴」是情态之哀，将天人格化——天也因古战场的惨祸而「憔悴」，移情入景，凄楚动人；「兮」字为楚辞句法的遗响，音节拖长，平添悲吟之致。「风悲日曛」写风声与日色：「风悲」是听觉，风本无情，而人悲故觉风悲；「日曛」是视觉，曛为日落之昏光，写太阳如垂死的病人，惨淡无光。四字之中，声色俱惨，天地为之同悲。这两句在写法上是「视听兼写」的典范：以「风悲」之听写心中之哀，以「日曛」之视写眼前之惨，听觉与视觉交织，把阴惨的气氛推向顶点。而其更深一层的意思是「天怒人怨」：黯惨的天色、悲鸣的风声，仿佛天地也在为战死的冤魂致哀，为后文「伤心哉！秦欤汉欤，将近代欤」的直抒悲慨，蓄足了天地同悲的氛围。
The two lines turn from the landform to the sky, with the word forlorn as the bone, writing the battlefield's light and sound as if before the eye. Dismal, forlorn writes the sky's dimness and desolation: dismal the dark light, forlorn the mournful mood, personifying the sky - heaven too forlorn because of the battlefield's horror, the feeling projected into the scenery, mournful and moving. The word xi is the aftertone of the Chuci syntax, the syllable drawn out, adding the mournful chant. The wind grieves, the sun dim writes the wind and sun: the wind grieves is hearing, the wind originally heartless, yet man grieving so feels the wind grieving; the sun dim is sight, dim the dying light of sunset, writing the sun like a dying patient, bleak and lightless. Within four characters, sound and hue both forlorn, heaven and earth grieving together. The two lines in method are the model of writing seeing and hearing together: using the wind grieving's hearing to write the heart's grief, using the sun dim's sight to write the present misery, hearing and sight interwoven, pushing the gloomy air to its peak. The deeper meaning is heaven's wrath and man's grievance: the dismal sky, the grieving wind, as if heaven and earth too were mourning the slain, gathering the atmosphere of heaven and earth grieving together for the later direct outcry heartrending! is it Qin? is it Han? or nearer our own times?
蓬断草枯，凛若霜晨。
The last two lines close the opening scene description, drawing the lens from heaven-and-earth to the grass and plants at one's feet, the final fixation of the whole passage's atmosphere. 'The broken tumbleweed, the withered grass' writes the state of plants: the tumbleweed broken, the grass withered; the two characters 'broken' and 'withered' write the end of life and the desolation—the tumbleweed is by nature a drifting thing (the ancients used 'peng' for the traveling man, 'the conscript leaves the Han frontier' is such), the broken peng more figures the conscript's death, the withered grass more figures the battlefield's desolation; the breaking and withering of plants is the miniature of the myriad dry bones. 'Chill as a frosty morn' closes with metaphor: the battlefield's chill is as piercing as a frost-covered dawn—'chill' (lin) writes bone-piercing cold, 'frosty morn' writes the whitened, solemn killing; turning the formless 'cold' into the sensible 'frosty morn' image. The two lines together, with 'broken,' 'withered,' 'chill' used in succession, each character carrying withering, solemn aura, render the ancient battlefield a forbidden zone of life. And the 'frosty morn' metaphor covertly holds a time dimension: though a frosty morn is cold, the sun will rise; the battlefield's misery is eternally night—using 'morn' to set off 'eternal night,' the lament of the past grows heavier. Thus the level sands, river, hills, wind and sun, tumbleweed—layered and dyed—the desolate picture of the ancient battlefield is complete, the whole piece's lamenting feeling fully drawn, only awaiting the later 'how sorrowful' to pour forth.
蓬草折断、野草干枯，凛冽得就像严霜覆盖的清晨。
The reed breaks, the grass withers, the chill as on a frosty dawn.
末两句收束开篇的景物描写，把镜头从天地之间收拢到脚下的一草一木，是全段氛围的最终定格。「蓬断草枯」写草木之态：飞蓬折断，野草干枯，两个「断」「枯」字写出生命的终结与萧杀，蓬草本是漂泊之物（古人以「蓬」喻征人远行，「征蓬出汉塞」是也），蓬断更喻征人之殒命，草枯更喻疆场之荒芜，草木的枯断正是百万枯骨的缩影。「凛若霜晨」以比喻收束：战场上的寒意凛冽，就像严霜覆盖的清晨——「凛」字写寒气砭骨，「霜晨」写万物凝白的肃杀，把无形之「寒」化为可感的「霜晨」意象。两句合观，以「断」「枯」「凛」三字连用，字字带着枯槁肃杀之气，把古战场渲染成一片生命的禁区。而「霜晨」之喻又暗含时间维度：霜晨虽寒，终有日出；古战场之惨，却万古如夜——以「晨」反衬「永夜」，吊古之悲愈发深重。至此，平沙、河水、群山、风日、蓬草，层层铺染，古战场的苍凉图景完整呈现，全篇凭吊之情已蓄满弓弦，只待下文「伤心哉」的悲慨一泻而出。
The last two lines close the opening scenery, drawing the lens from heaven and earth down to the grass and trees at the feet, the final fixing of the whole passage's atmosphere. The reed breaks, the grass withers writes the plants' state: the tumbleweed broken, the wild grass dried, the two words broken and withered writing life's end and the killing air; the reed and grass originally things of drifting (the ancients used the reed for the conscript's far journey, as in the conscript reed leaving the Han pass), the reed broken further meta-phoring the conscript's death, the grass withered the field's desolation, the withered and broken plants exactly the epitome of a million dry bones. The chill as on a frosty dawn closes in simile: the battlefield's piercing chill like the dawn covered with hard frost - the word chill writing the cold that cuts the bone, the frosty dawn the killing whiteness of all things, turning the formless cold into the palpable frosty-dawn image. The two lines together, with the three words broken, withered, and chill in succession, every word carrying the withered killing air, rendering the ancient battlefield a forbidden zone of life. The frosty-dawn simile also secretly holds the time dimension: the frosty dawn though cold yet has sunrise; the ancient battlefield's horror yet night-like through the ages - using the dawn to set off the long night, the mourning grief the deeper. Here, the level sand, the river, the hills, the wind and sun, the reed and grass, layer on layer spread, the desolate picture of the ancient battlefield complete, the whole's mourning feeling drawn to the bowstring, only waiting for the later heartrending to pour forth.
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Related Reading
Du Fu's 'Ballad of the War Carts' opens with the seeing-off scene 'carts clatter, horses neigh, each man with bow and arrows at his waist,' narrating the misery of 'clinging to clothes, stamping feet, blocking the road in tears' and 'the war frontier flows blood like the sea,' ending with the folk sorrow 'truly know bearing a son is ill, better bear a daughter.' Li Hua's 'An Elegy on the Ancient Battlefield' opens with the desolate 'vast, vast—the level sands without bound,' laying out the conscript's catastrophe, ending in the humane ideal of 'garrison at the four barbarians.' Both are representatives of High Tang anti-war literature, kindred in spirit yet different in form: Du's poem is yuefu ballad, realistic through plain description and narration, emotion grave and repressed; Li's essay is parallel prose, impressionistic through exposition and rendering, mood vast and mournful. One poem one prose, one narrates one laments, one writes 'the misery of seeing-off' one writes 'the emptiness of the battlefield'—read together they show the High Tang literati's complete observation of border wars from human suffering to heaven-and-earth desolation, and the respective strengths of poetry and parallel prose in expressing the anti-war theme.
杜甫《兵车行》以「车辚辚，马萧萧，行人弓箭各在腰」的送征场面起笔，历写「牵衣顿足拦道哭」「边庭流血成海水」的惨状，终以「信知生男恶，反是生女好」的民间悲声作结；李华《吊古战场文》则以「浩浩乎平沙无垠」的古战场苍凉起兴，铺陈征戍惨祸，归于「守在四夷」的仁政理想。二作同为盛唐反战文学的代表，精神相通而文体迥异：杜诗为乐府歌行，以白描与叙事写实，情感沉郁顿挫；李文为骈体散文，以铺陈与渲染写意，意境苍茫悲怆。一诗一文，一叙一吊，一写「送征之惨」一写「战场之空」，合观可见盛唐文人对开边战争从人间悲苦到天地苍凉的完整观照，也可见诗歌与骈文两种文体在表达反战主题时各自的优势。
阿房宫赋 Fu on the Epang Palace 杜牧 · 同为以赋讽今的骈赋名篇，一吊战场一吊宫阙 Both are famous parallel-fu using the past to satirize the present—one laments the battlefield, one the palace.Du Mu's 'Fu on the Epang Palace' opens with the parallel 'the six kings finished, the four seas one; Shu's hills bare, Epang rises,' expounding Qin's extreme extravagance, ending with the argument 'it is not Qin that destroyed the six states, but the six states themselves; it is not the world that destroyed Qin, but Qin itself,' using Qin's fall to satirize Tang's extravagance. Li Hua's 'An Elegy on the Ancient Battlefield' opens with the desolate 'vast, vast—the level sands without bound,' enumerating the conscript's catastrophe, ending in the humane rule of 'garrison at the four barbarians.' Both fu belong to the 'using the past to satirize the present' parallel-fu tradition, both using expansive rhetoric to write historical lessons, yet one object is the palace, the other the battlefield; one theme warns against extravagance, the other against war. In art, Du Mu's fu is ornate in diction and trenchant in argument, Li Hua's essay vast in mood and mournful in feeling; both are parallel yet 'moved by breath,' read exhilarating. Read together, the two fu show the complete face of Tang parallel-fu 'taking history as mirror, voicing ambition through fu,' and the two typical forms of the 'remonstrance' tradition in parallel prose.
杜牧《阿房宫赋》以「六王毕，四海一，蜀山兀，阿房出」的排句起笔，铺陈秦之穷奢极欲，终以「灭六国者六国也，非秦也；族秦者秦也，非天下也」的议论作结，借秦之覆亡讽唐之奢靡；李华《吊古战场文》则以「浩浩乎平沙无垠」的苍凉起兴，历数征戍惨祸，归于「守在四夷」的仁政。二赋同属「借古讽今」的骈赋传统，皆以铺陈扬厉的笔法写历史教训，而对象一为宫阙、一为战场，主旨一戒奢、一戒战。艺术上，杜牧之赋辞采秾丽、议论峭拔，李华之文意境苍茫、情辞悲怆；二文皆为骈体而以「气」运辞，读来酣畅淋漓。合观二赋，可见唐代骈赋「以史为鉴、以赋言志」的完整面貌，也可见「讽谏」传统在骈文中的两种典型形态。
燕歌行 Yan Ge Xing 高适 · 同写边塞征战之苦的盛唐名篇 Both famous High Tang works writing the suffering of frontier warfare.Gao Shi's 'Yan Ge Xing' opens with 'the Han house's smoke and dust in the northeast; the Han general leaves home to break the remnant foe,' narrating 'half the soldiers die before the army, while beauties sing and dance under the tent' and 'see the white blades bloodily cross,' ending with 'do you not see the suffering of the battlefield, to this day still recalling General Li.' Li Hua's 'An Elegy on the Ancient Battlefield' enters from the battlefield itself, writing the historical cycle of 'ever overturning the three armies' through desolate scene. Both write the suffering of frontier warfare and deeply criticize militarism, yet differ in focus: Gao's poem emphasizes 'man'—the contrast of the common soldier's grief and the general's dissipation; Li's essay emphasizes 'realm'—the desolation of the ancient battlefield and the lone souls of conscripts. One is the grand, mournful seven-character ballad, the other the vast, sorrowful parallel prose, both peaks of High Tang frontier literature. Read together, the two show the High Tang literati's complex mentality facing frontier war—both admiring its grandeur and denouncing its cruelty—and the similarities and differences of the ballad and parallel prose forms in writing the war theme.
高适《燕歌行》以「汉家烟尘在东北，汉将辞家破残贼」起笔，历写「战士军前半死生，美人帐下犹歌舞」的军中不公与「相看白刃血纷纷」的沙场惨烈，终以「君不见沙场征战苦，至今犹忆李将军」收束；李华《吊古战场文》则从战场本身切入，以苍凉的景象写「常覆三军」的历史循环。二作皆写边塞征战之苦，皆对穷兵黩武深致批判，而侧重点不同：高诗重在写「人」——士卒的悲欢与将帅的荒淫对照；李文重在写「境」——古战场的苍凉与征人的孤魂。一为七言歌行的雄浑悲壮，一为骈体散文的苍茫沉痛，同属盛唐边塞文学的巅峰。合观二篇，可见盛唐文人面对边塞战争时，既激赏其悲壮、又痛斥其惨酷的复杂心态，也可见歌行与骈文两种文体写战争主题的异同。