Q一Q师?/SPAN>
古之学者必有师Q师者，所以传道受业解惑也。h非生而知之者，孰能无惑Q惑而不从师Q其为惑也，l不解矣。生乎吾前，光道也固先乎吾Q吾从而师之，生乎向Q其闻道也亦先乎吾，吾从而师之。吾师道也，夫庸知其q之后生于吾乎？是故Q无贉|贱，无长无少Q道之所存，师之所存也?/SPAN>
嗟乎Q师道之不传也久矣！Ʋh之无惑也隄Q古之圣人，其出Zq矣Q犹且从师而问焉；今之众hQ其下圣Z亦远矣，而d于师。是故圣益圣Q愚益愚。圣Z所以ؓ(f)圣，愚h之所以ؓ(f)愚，其皆Z此乎Q爱其子Q择师而教之；于其w也Q则d焉，惑矣Q。彼童子之师Q授之书而习(fn)其句读者，非吾所谓传光解其惑者也。句M不知Q惑之不解，或师焉，或不焉，学而大遗，吾未见其明也。巫医，乐师Q百工之人，不ȝ师。士大夫之族Q日师日弟子云者，则群聚而笑之。问之，则曰Q“彼与彼q相若也Q道怼也，位卑则，官盛则近庚。”呜|师道之不复，可知矣。巫M师百工之人，君子不Q今其智乃反不能及，其可怪也Ƥ！
圣h无常师。孔子师郯子、苌弘、师襄、老聃。郯子之陡，其贤不及孔子。孔子曰Q三Q必有我师。是故弟子不必不如师Q师不必贤于弟子Q闻道有先之后，术业有专攻，如是而已?/SPAN>
李氏子蟠Q年十七Q好古文、六艺，l传皆通习(fn)之，不拘于时Q学于余。余嘉其能行古道Q作《师说》以M?/SPAN>
On Learning from Others
By Han Yu
Translated by Wang Wuming
Learning necessitates an instructor, on whom we depend to impart knowledge to us, teach us the way of life and solve our puzzles. Who would claim to be free of bewilderment since no one was born omniscient? If we feel unsure about something and do not learn from others, the uncertainty will not be solved all the same. Those who were born before me would probably know the way of life before me, I should learn from them; those who were born after me but knew the way of life before me, I should also learn from them. What’s the matter of someone being older or younger than me when I intend to learn from him or her? Therefore, a talented person deserves to be learned from whether he or she is noble or simple, old or young.
Alas, it is a long time since the tradition of learning from others was cut off. So it is difficult to expect people to be free from puzzles. Saints of ancient times outdid us in virtue, but they still learned from others; common people of today fall behind far off, but they take it as a shame to learn from others. As a result, the wise becomes wiser and the fool more foolish. Is this the outcome of the phenomenon? A devoted parent hires an instructor to teach his offspring but feels shameful to learn himself. How stupid he is. The hired teacher teaching someone to read and write is not the one who teaches us to know the way of life and solves our puzzles. How can someone who cannot even read and writhe solve his bewilderment? To this, he may learn from others or may not do so at all. It is not wise or advisable to learn to solve petty fleabites but miss to learn to resolve worrying puzzles. Medicine men, musicians and handicraftsmen are not feeling shameful to learn from each other’s advantage. Pedantic scholars would gather together laughing someone who learns from others. I asked them and they responded, “Suppose someone is as knowledgeable as you and of about the same age, it would be shameful to learn from him if he is inferior to you and somehow flattering to do the same if he is a noble rank official.?Alas, I know why the tradition of learning from others is cut off. Pedantic scholars are despising medicine men, musicians and handicraftsmen, however, they, in return, are not wiser than them at all. How strange it is.
Saints have not just learned something from one instructor. Confucius (551-479 BC) once learned from Tanzi (?), Changhong (?-492 BC), Shixiang (?) and Laozi (?). Confucius once said that there was always something to learn from among any three people walking. So a disciple does not have to be wiser and more knowledgeable than his instructor, and vice versa. One learns the way of life earlier or later than others and has his own professional skills. That is the way it is.
Li Pan, a seventeen-year-old boy, is fond of Classic Chinese writing and well versed in ancient literature. Unrestricted from the current bias, he modestly learns from me. Moved by his laudable behavior, I write this article to encourage him.
On the Teacher
By Han Yu
Translated by Luo Jingguo (|经?/SPAN>)
In ancient times those who wanted to learn would seek out a teacher, one who could propagate the doctrine1, impart professional knowledge, and resolve doubts. Since no one is born omniscient, who can claim to have no doubts? If one has doubts and is not willing to learn from a teacher, his doubts will never be resolved. Anyone who was born before me and learned the doctrine before me is my teacher. Anyone who was born after me and learned the doctrine before me is also my teacher. Since what I desire to learn is the doctrine, why should I care whether he was born before or after me? Therefore, it does not matter whether a person is high or low in position, young or old in age. Where there is the doctrine, there is my teacher.
Alas! The tradition of learning from the teacher has long been neglected. Thus it is difficult to find a person without any doubts at all. Ancient sages, who far surpassed us, even learned from their teachers. People today, who are far inferior to them, regard learning from the teacher as a disgrace. Thus, wise men become more wise and unlearned men become more foolish. This explains what makes a wise man and what makes a foolish man.
It is absurd that a person would choose a teacher for his son out of his love for him, and yet refuse to learn from the teacher himself, thinking it a disgrace to do so. The teacher of his son teaches the child only reading and punctuation, which is not propagating the doctrine or resolving doubts as the aforementioned. I don‘t think it wise to learn from the teacher when one doesn‘t know how to punctuate, but not when one has doubts unresolved, for that I find to be the folly of learning in small matters, but neglecting the big ones. Even medicine men, musicians and handicraftsmen do not think it disgraceful to learn from each other. When one of the literati calls another man his "teacher"and himself his "student" people will get together and invariably laugh at him. If you ask them why they are laughing, they will say that since he is almost of the same age and as erudite as another man, it would be degrading for him to call the other man "teacher" if the other man‘s social rank is lower than his; and it would be flattering if the other man‘s social rank is higher. Alas! It is clear that the tradition of learning from the teacher can no longer be restored. Medicine men, musicians and handicraftsmen are despised by the gentlemen. How strange it is that gentlemen are less wise than these people!
The ancient sages did not limit themselves to particular teachers. Confucius had learned from people like Tanzi2, Changhong3, Shixiang4, and Laodan5, who were not as virtuous and talented as Confucius. Confucius said "If three men are walking together, one of them is bound to be good enough to be my teacher."A student is not necessarily inferior to his teacher, nor does a teacher necessarily be more virtuous and talented than his student. The real fact is that one might have learned the doctrine earlier than the other, or might be a master in his own special field.
Pan, the son of Li‘s family, who is only seventeen years old, loves to study Chinese classics of the Qin and Han dynasties, and masters the six jing6 and their annotations. He does not follow conventions and is willing to learn from me. I appreciate his ability to act in accordance with the old tradition of learning. Therefore I dedicate this piece to him.
On the Teacher
By Han Yu
Translated by Liu Shishun (刘师?/SPAN>)
IN ANCIENT TIMES scholars always had teachers. It takes a teacher to transmit the Way, impart knowledge and resolve doubts. Since man is not born with knowledge, who can be without doubt? But doubt will never be resolved without a teacher. He who was born before me learned the Way before me, and I take him as my teacher. But if he who was born after me learned the Way before me, I also take him as my teacher. I take the Way as my teacher. Why should I care whether a man was born before or after me? Irrespective therefore of the distinction between the high-born and the lowly, and between age and youth, where the Way is, there is my teacher.
Alas, it has been a long time since the Way of the teacher was transmitted! And so it is difficult to expect people to be without doubt. Though ancient sages far surpassed the common folk, they nevertheless asked questions of their teachers. On the other hand, the masses of today, who are far inferior to the sages, are ashamed to learn from their teachers. Consequently, the sage became more sage, and the ignorant more ignorant. Indeed, is this not the reason why the sages were sage and the ignorant folk ignorant?
He who loves his son selects a teacher for the child‘s education, but he is ashamed to learn from a teacher himself. He is indeed deluded. The teacher of a child is one who gives instruction on books and on the punctuation of sentences. This is not what I meant when I talked about one who transmits the Way and resolves doubts. To take a teacher for instruction in correct punctuation and not to take a teacher to help resolve doubts is to learn the unimportant and leave out the important. I do not see the wisdom of it. Shamans, doctors, musicians and craftsmen are not ashamed to take one another as teachers. But, when the scholar-officials speak of teachers and pupils, there are those who get together and laugh at them. When questioned, their reply is that so and so is of the same age as so and so and that their understanding of the Way is similar. If one takes another who holds a low position as his teacher, it is something to be ashamed of. If it is some high official who is taken as a teacher, it is a form of flattery. Alas, the Way of the teacher is no longer understood! Shamans, doctors, musicians and craftsmen are not respected by a gentleman, but their wisdom is beyond that of the gentleman. Is this not strange?
Our sages had no constant teachers. Confucius took T‘an-tzu, Ch‘ang-hung, Shih-hsiang and Lao-tan as his teachers, all of whom were not so wise as himself. Said Confucius, "Among three men who walk with me, there must be a teacher of mine". The pupil is therefore not necessarily inferior to the teacher, and the teacher is not necessarily wiser than the pupil. What makes the difference is that one has heard the Way before the other and that one is more specialized in his craft and trade than the other—that is all.
Li P‘an, who is seventeen, is fond of ancient literature and is deeply versed in the six arts, the classics and chronicles. Not subject to the trend of the day, he has studied under me. Pleased that he can practice the ancient Way, I have written this essay on the teacher to present to him.
Q二Q?/SPAN>醉翁亭记
环滁皆山也。其西南诸峰Q林壑尤，望之蔚然而深U者，琅琊也。山行六七里Q渐L声z潺，而泻Z两峰之间者，酿泉也。峰回\转，有亭然临于泉上者，醉翁亭也。作亭者谁Q山之僧Z也。名之者谁Q太守自谓也。太守与客来饮于此，饮少辄醉Q而年又最高，故自h醉翁也。醉之意不在酒Q在乎山水之间也。山水之乐，得之心而寓之酒也?/SPAN>
若夫日出而林霏开Q云归而岩I暝Q晦明变化者，山间之朝暮也。野芛_而幽香，xU而繁荫，风霜高洁Q水落而石，山间之四时也。朝而往Q暮而归Q四时之景不同，而乐亦无I也?/SPAN>
至于负者歌于途，行者休于树(wi)Q前者呼Q后者应Q伛L携，往来而不l者，滁h怹。(f)溪而渔Q溪p鱼肥；酿泉为酒Q泉香而酒z；p野蔌Q杂然而前陈者，太守宴也。宴酣之乐，非丝非竹Q射者中Q奕者胜Q觥{交错，坐v而喧哗者，众宾Ƣ也。苍颜白发，颓然乎其间者，太守醉也?/SPAN>
已而夕阛_山，人媄散ؕQ太守归而宾客从也。树(wi)林阴I鸣声上下Q游人去而禽鸟乐也。然而禽鸟知山林之乐Q而不知h之乐Qh知从太守游而乐Q而不知太守之乐其乐也。醉能同其乐Q醒能述以文者，太守也。太守谓谁？庐陵Ƨ阳修也?/SPAN>
The Arbour of the Drunken Graybeard
Translated by Xie Baikui (谢百?/SPAN>)
Surrounding Chu Prefecture are all mountains. Those standing in the southwest with wooded peaks and valleys are the most sublime. The one that commands a view of luxuriant forests, imparting a sense of seclusion and veiled beauty, is Mount Langya. A walk of six or seven li along the mountain trail brings one within earshot of gurgling water, which announces Niang Spring gushing out between two peaks. The path twists and the peak gives a changed aspect. Then one comes in sight of an arbour soaring like a bird spreading its wings over the spring. This is namely the Arbour of the Drunken Graybeard. Who set up the arbour? The monk of the mountains called Zhi Xian. Who gave it the name? His Excellency the prefect. The prefect and his guests often come here to drink. Even with a few sips, the former would become intoxicated, and being the oldest, styled himself the Drunken Graybeard. The Drunken Graybeard does not aim at wine, but at the splendid scenery. The delight it bestows is acquired by heart but deposited in wine.
The sun rises, the fog in the forests dissipates, and the stone caves become obscured as clouds are vanishing—the shift of light to darkness marks the passage of time from dawn till dusk. And then the wild flowers blossom, emitting their delicate fragrance, the woods are clad with lush foliage. Again, nature is hoary with rime and stones stand out in the shallow stream—all this shows the changes of the four seasons in the mountains. Setting out from morn and returning at eve, one perceives the different views in different seasons and the joy of admiring nature’s beauty is simply infinite.
As for the carriers singing on the way, the ramblers resting in the trees?shade, the men walking ahead calling and being answered by those trailing behind, and the senile trudging with bowed bodies or the adults leading their children by the hand, all forming an uninterrupted passage of people to and fro –it is the Chu folks sauntering on the mountain. Angling in the deep stream teeming with fat fish, brewing aromatic wine with Niang Spring water, hunting for game and gathering wild edible plants—all this is for the preparation of a miscellaneous feast in honour of the prefect. The jocundity of the feast does not find expression in music. You can see the contestants shooting their arrows into the pots for prizes, the chess players winning their games, cups and goblets scatters in confusion, and people roistering in standing or sitting postures —it is the guests revelling. And the white-haired old man, striken in years, lying prostrate in their midst —it is the prefect being inebriated.
Then the sun is setting down the mountain ridges, and the excursionists are dispersing in different directions. The prefect is going home, followed by his guests. Under the canopy of leaves, birds are warbling everywhere, for they are glad of the departure of the intruders. However, the fowls know the joy of wooded mountains, but they are beyond the knowledge of man’s happiness. And the folks know how to make merry in the company of the prefect, but they have no idea how His Excellency enjoys himself. The one who is able to share the common mirth when intoxicated and put it down in refined description when sobered is none other than the prefect. Who is the prefect? Ouyang Xiu of Luling.
The Arbour of the Drunken Graybeard
Translated by Luo Jingguo (|经?/SPAN>)
Chu Zhou* is surrounded with mountains. The forests and valleys on the southwest ridge are especially beautiful. Lying in the distance, where the trees grow luxuriantly and gracefully is the Langya Mountain. Six or seven li up the mountain path, a gurgling sound grows clearer and clearer. It is from a spring that falls between two mountains. The spring is called the Wine-Making Spring. The path turns and twists along the mountain ridge, and above the spring rests a pavilion perching aloft like a bird with wings outstretched. This is the Pavilion of the Drunken Old Man. Who built this pavilion? Monk Zhixian, who lived in the mountain. And who furnished it with that name? It was the prefect, who named it after his own alias. The prefect often comes here to drink wine with his friends and he easily gets tipsy after a few cups. Being oldest in age among his companions, he calls himself "the drunken old man". The drinker‘s heart is not in the cup, but in the mountains and waters. The joy he gets from them is treasured in the heart, and now and then he will express it through wine-drinking.
In the morning, the rising sun disperses the forest mists, and in the evening, the gathering clouds darken the caves and valleys. This shifting from light to darkness is morning and evening in the mountains. In spring, blooming flowers send forth a delicate bouquet; in summer, the flourishing trees afford deep shades; in autumn, the sky is high and crisp, and the frost, snowy white; in winter, the water of the creek recedes and the bare bedrock emerges. These are the mountain scenes in the four seasons. Going to the mountain in the morning and returning home in the evening and enjoying the beauties of the mountain in different seasons is a delight beyond description!
Carriers are singing all along the way, and pedestrians are taking rest beneath the trees. Some are shouting from the fore and are answered by others from behind. There are hunchbacked old folks, and children led by their elders. They are people from Chu zhou who have come here in an endless stream. Some are fishing by the creek where the water is deep and the fish are big. The water itself is faintly scented and the wine brewed from it is crystal clear. Upon the prefect‘s banquet table is a sundry layer of dishes, including the meat of wild beasts and the flavorings of edible mountain herbs. The joy of the feast lies not in the musical accompaniment of strings or flutes, but in winning the games, such as throwing arrows into the vessel, or chess playing. Wine cups and gambling chips lay scattered in blithe disarray. The revelers, now sitting, now standing, cavort madly among themselves. These are the prefect‘s guests, and the old man with wizened face and white hair among them, who is half drunk, is none other than the prefect himself.
As dusk falls, one sees shifting shadows scattering in all directions. The prefect is leaving for home, and his guests are following him. The shadows of the trees are deepening, and birds are chirping high and low. The people are going home, leaving the birds free to enjoy themselves. The birds only know their joy in the wooded mountains, but are unaware of what makes the people joyful. The people only know that they are joyful on their excursion with the prefect, but are unaware that the prefect finds his joy in seeing them joyful. He, who enjoys himself with the people when drunk, and records this excursion in writing when sober, is the prefect himself. And who is the prefect? He is Ouyang Xiu of Luling.
The Arbour of the Drunken Graybeard
Translated by Yang Xianyi (杨宪?/SPAN>)
The district of Chu is enclosed all around by hills, of which those in the southwest boast the most lovely forests and dales. In the distance, densely wooded and possessed of a rugged beauty, is Mount Langya. When you penetrate a mile or two into this mountain you begin to hear the gurgling of a stream, and presently the stream - the Brewer‘s Spring - comes into sight cascading between two peaks. Rounding a bend you see a hut with a spreading roof hard by the stream, and this is the Roadside Hut of the Old Drunkard. This hut was built by the monk Zhi Xian. It was given its name by the governor, referring to himself. The governor, coming here with his friends, often gets tipsy after a little drinking; and since he is the most advanced in years, he calls himself the Old Drunkard. He delights less in drinking than in the hills and streams, taking pleasure in them and expressing the feeling in his heart through drinking.
Now at dawn and dusk in this mountain come the changes between light and darkness: when the sun emerges, the misty woods become clear; when the clouds hang low, the grottoes are wrapped in gloom. Then in the course of the four seasons you find wild flowers burgeoning and blooming with a secret fragrance, the stately trees put on their mantle of leaves and give a goodly shade, until wind and frost touch all with austerity, the water sinks low and the rocks at the bottom of the stream emerge. A man going there in the morning and returning in the evening during the changing pageant of the seasons, can derive endless pleasure from the place.
And the local people may be seen making their way there and back in an endless stream, the old and infirm as well as infants in arms, men carrying burdens who sing as they go, passers-by stopping to rest beneath the trees, those in front calling out and those behind answering. There the governor gives a feast with a variety of dishes before him, mostly wild vegetables and other mountain produce. The fish are freshly caught from the stream, and since the stream is deep the fish are fat; the wine is brewed with spring water, and since the spring is sweet the wine is superb. There they feast and drink merrily with no accompaniment of strings or flutes; when someone wins a game of cottabus or chess, when they mark up their scores in drinking games together, or raise a cheerful din sitting or standing, it can be seen that the guests are enjoying themselves. The elderly man with white hair in the middle, who sits utterly relaxed and at his ease, is the governor, already half drunk.
Then the sun sinks towards the hills, men‘s shadows begin to flit about and scatter; and now the governor leaves, followed by his guests. In the shades of the woods birds chirp above and below, showing that the men have gone and the birds are at peace. But although the birds enjoy the hills and forests, they cannot understand men‘s pleasure in them; and although men enjoy accompanying the governor there, they cannot understand his pleasure either. The governor is able to share his enjoyment with others when he is in his cups, and sober again can write an essay about it. Who is this governor? Ouyang Xiu of Luling.
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