Prologue to the Tengwang Pavilion
Wang Bo (Tang Dynasty)
The ancient prefecture of Yuzhang, now the new capital of Hongdu, is strategically located, with its stars aligned under the constellations of Wing and Chariot, and its lands bordering Heng and Lu. It is flanked by the Three Rivers and surrounded by the Five Lakes, controlling the regions of Jing and Chu while extending towards Ou and Yue. The area is rich in natural treasures, with divine brilliance shining upon it, and blessed with outstanding people, like Xu Rushi who lowered his mat for Chen Fan. The mighty state is often veiled in mist, and its talented figures soar like stars. This city sits between foreign and local lands, offering the finest hospitality of the Southeast. The respected governor, Lord Yan, graces the scene from afar with his imperial guard, while the virtuous Yu Wen, governor of the New State, briefly pauses his travels. During a ten-week break, distinguished friends gather like clouds, and guests from thousands of miles away fill the halls. Scholars, such as the literary master Meng Haoran, compose words that soar like dragons, while warriors like General Wang wield sharp blades as if they were from a legendary armory. My father, serving as an official, passed through this famed area, while I, an ignorant child, was fortunate to attend this magnificent feast.
It was September, in the third season of autumn. The floodwaters had receded, leaving the cold pools clear, and the light of the setting sun cast a purple glow on the distant mountains. Driving in a decorated chariot, we traveled through the scenic heights. At the long islet of the emperor’s sons, we found an ancient hall where heaven and humanity once met. The green ridges of layered peaks soared into the clouds, while the flying pavilions, with their crimson roofs, stood precariously over the abyss below. Cranes glided over the shallows, and wild ducks darted among the twisting islands. The palace halls, adorned with laurel and orchids, blended seamlessly with the rising hills.
As we opened the embroidered doors and gazed down at the carved rooftops, we were struck by the vastness of the plains and rivers that stretched endlessly before us. The houses of the common folk crowded the land, while the river was filled with boats and ships adorned with blue flags and yellow dragons. After the clouds dispersed and the rain cleared, the sky shone brightly in every direction. The setting sun and the lone wild goose flew together, as the autumn waters and the endless sky became one. Fishermen sang in their boats at dusk, their voices carrying to the shores of Lake Poyang. Meanwhile, the flocks of geese startled by the cold let out cries that echoed across the banks of Hengyang.
With my spirit now free and my inspiration soaring, the refreshing wind stirred as clear breezes arose, while delicate songs paused, and white clouds seemed to gather. The green bamboo of the Suiyuan garden could rival the wine cups of Pengze, while the red blossoms of the River Yi reflected the brilliance of the writer Linchuan. All four delights were present, and the two most challenging aspects combined. Gazing into the heavens, we reveled in our leisure. The sky seemed boundless, and the earth, vast and distant, making us aware of the universe’s infinity. As the pleasure faded, sorrow crept in, revealing the natural ebb and flow of life’s events. Looking toward Chang’an beneath the sun and Wu and Yue between the clouds, the land stretched far to the southern seas, while the heavenly pillar rose high towards the northern star. The mountains and rivers seemed impossible to cross—who would lament the lost travelers? Strangers meeting by chance on the waters, all are but guests in foreign lands. I longed to see the emperor’s gates but wondered when I would again serve in his palace.
Alas! Fortune is fickle, and fate is often cruel. Feng Tang grew old quickly, and Li Guang never received his title. Jia Yi was exiled to Changsha despite the presence of a wise ruler, and Liang Hong fled to the seashore even in an enlightened era. Yet, wise men adapt to the times, and those who understand fate know their path. Even in old age, one remains steadfast, never altering the resolve of their white-haired years. In adversity, they grow even stronger, never letting go of their lofty ambitions. Drinking from the fountain of greed only clears the mind, and facing difficulties brings unexpected joy. Though the North Sea may seem distant, it can be reached by riding the wind. Even though the eastern sun has set, the evening sun is not too late. Like Meng Changjun, who maintained his high standards, or Ruan Ji, who expressed his wild emotions, they did not cry in despair when faced with hardship.
I, Wang Bo, a humble scholar of mere three-foot stature, have a fleeting life. With no opportunity to serve the court, I am like General Zhong Jun in his youth. Harboring ambitions to lay down my brush, I am inspired by the bold winds that once motivated Zong Que. I set aside my official career to attend to my parents from afar, though not from a distinguished family like Xie, I find comfort among worthy neighbors like the Meng family. In the past, I attended court discussions, taking joy in the teachings of Li. Today, I raise my sleeves, happily seeking the dragon gate. Yet, I lament missing out on Yang Yi’s friendship while appreciating the fortuitous encounter with Zhong Qi. Playing the flowing waters, I feel no shame in my performance.
Alas! This splendid land is fleeting, and such grand feasts are hard to come by again. The Lanting Pavilion has passed, and the Zize Marsh is now desolate. As I bid farewell with these humble words, I am grateful to be honored with this grand banquet. Ascending to compose verses was what the noble guests expected of me. With great reverence, I offer this brief introduction, weaving together a few short stanzas into four lines of verse. Let us pour wine into the Pan River and toast to the vast ocean.
The Grand Pavilion of Prince Teng overlooks the riverside land,
Where jade pendants chime and phoenix carriages halt the song and dance.
In the morning, the painted beams rise to greet the southern clouds,
In the evening, the pearl curtains roll back to welcome the western rains.
Idle clouds and the reflection of the pools drift by with the passing days,
As stars change and seasons pass, how many autumns have come and gone?
Where is the imperial prince who once stood in the pavilion?
Outside the railings, the Yangtze River flows ceaselessly on.
Background I
During the reign of Emperor Gaozong, the governor of Hongzhou, Lord Yan, rebuilt the Tengwang Pavilion. On the ninth day of the ninth lunar month in 675 AD (the second year of the Shangyuan era), he hosted a grand banquet on the pavilion with officials and guests. The author, passing through on his way to visit his father in Jiaozhi, attended the event and spontaneously composed this piece.
Background II
In 675 AD (the second year of Emperor Gaozong’s Shangyuan era), to celebrate the newly rebuilt Tengwang Pavilion, Governor Yan hosted a banquet on the ninth day of the ninth lunar month, inviting guests, including his son-in-law Wu Zizhang, to write a prologue in his honor. However, in a display of humility, Wang Bo stepped in and wrote this essay. Initially, Governor Yan was unimpressed by the opening “The ancient prefecture of Yuzhang, now the new capital of Hongdu,” considering it common rhetoric. But when he heard the famous line “The setting sun and the lone wild goose fly together, as the autumn waters and the endless sky become one,” he was astounded and praised it as the work of a true genius.
There are two theories regarding the composition time of “Prologue to the Tengwang Pavilion.” One theory, from the Tang Dynasty text Tang Zhiyan by Wang Dingbao, states that Wang Bo wrote it at the age of fourteen while his father served as a county magistrate in present-day Jiangsu. The line “What can a mere child know, yet I was fortunate to attend this grand farewell” supports this view. The second theory, from the Biography of Tang Poets by Yuan Dynasty author Xin Wenfang, holds that Wang Bo wrote it during his journey to visit his father in Jiaozhi (near modern-day Hanoi, Vietnam) in 675 AD, passing through Nanchang.
About the Author
Wang Bo (649 or 650 – 676 or 675 AD) was a Tang Dynasty poet, of Han ethnicity, whose courtesy name was Zian. He was born in Longmen, Jiangzhou (modern-day Hejin, Shanxi). Wang Bo, along with Yang Jiong, Lu Zhaolin, and Luo Binwang, was one of the Four Literary Masters of the Early Tang period, and he is considered the foremost among them. In August of the third year of Emperor Gaozong’s Shangyuan era (676 AD), Wang Bo tragically drowned on his return from visiting his father in Jiaozhi. He was renowned for his mastery of regulated verse and quatrains, with notable works such as Sending Off Du Shaofu to His Post in Shu and the Prologue to the Tengwang Pavilion exemplifying his literary prowess. Wang Bo’s contributions to Chinese literature, particularly in parallel prose, remain unparalleled in both quantity and quality.