赠汪伦
李白乘舟将欲行，
忽闻岸上踏歌声。
桃花潭水深千尺，
不及汪伦送我情。
Literal translation
Li Bai boards the boat, about to depart,
suddenly hears singing and stamping feet from the shore.
Peach Blossom Pool’s waters run a thousand feet deep,
yet still fall short of Wang Lun’s affection for me.
Artistic interpretation
The poem opens with motion—departure, imminent departure—then halts it with sound: not a farewell speech, but spontaneous, rhythmic foot-stomping song.
That visceral, communal act of 'tapping feet while singing' (tà gē) transforms a moment of parting into shared joy.
In the third line, hyperbole blooms: 'a thousand feet deep'—not measured, but felt—only to be dwarfed by human feeling in the final line.
The comparison isn’t mathematical; it’s ontological: depth of water is physical; depth of friendship is metaphysical.
Author mood
In early 755 CE, Li Bai was traveling south after leaving the Tang court disillusioned—no longer the 'Banished Immortal' in imperial favor, but a wandering poet seeking authenticity.
Wang Lun hosted him generously in remote Jingxian, offering hospitality without agenda.
This poem radiates gratitude so unguarded it verges on vulnerability—a rare warmth in Li Bai’s often defiant or intoxicated voice.
It’s not melancholy parting; it’s luminous reciprocity. He doesn’t mourn separation—he consecrates the bond.
Historical Context
The poem was written months before the An Lushan Rebellion erupted in late 755—a cataclysm that shattered the High Tang era.
Li Bai’s lightness here is historically poignant: it’s the last breath of peace before empire fractured.
Wang Lun’s gesture—spontaneous, grounded, local—stands in quiet contrast to the crumbling central authority.
This isn’t just friendship poetry; it’s an anchor cast in still water, right before the flood.
Cultural context
In classical Chinese poetics, 'song-and-stomp' (tà gē) was no mere folk pastime—it was a ritualized expression of sincerity, often performed at farewells to affirm emotional continuity across distance.
'Tao Hua Tan' (Peach Blossom Pool) evokes not just a place, but a Daoist-tinged ideal: peaches symbolize immortality; flowing water, unbroken connection.
Western readers may miss this: the 'thousand feet' isn’t about scale—it’s a culturally encoded measure of *unmeasurability*, like saying 'deeper than time itself.'
And crucially—Wang Lun wasn’t a scholar-official or poet; he was a local magistrate and devoted admirer. This poem elevates ordinary devotion to the level of literary canon—a quiet rebellion against hierarchy.
Socratic questions
- 1 What does it mean for a feeling to be 'deeper' than something physically measurable—and why must poetry invent such impossible comparisons to speak truth?
- 2 If Wang Lun had written a poem about Li Bai instead, how might its rhythm, imagery, or humility shift—and what would that reveal about power, voice, and who gets to memorialize whom?
- 3 When we translate 'tà gē' as 'stomping-song,' do we hear the earth, the body, the community—or just the sound? What gets lost when ritual becomes phonetic notation?
- 4 Why does Li Bai choose water—not mountains, stars, or silk—as the measure against which human feeling must be weighed?