Blaming Sons (An Apology for His Own Drunkenness)
White hair covers my temples,I am wrinkled and seared beyond repair,And though I have got five sons,They all hate paper and brush.A-shu is eighteen:For laziness there is none like him.A-hsüan does his best,But really loathes the Fine Arts.Yung-tuan is thirteen.But does not know “six” from “seven.”T’ung-tzŭ in his ninth yearIs only concerned with things to eat.If Heaven treats me like this,What can I do but fill my cup?
I built my hut in a zone of human habitation,Yet near me there sounds no noise of horse or coach.Would you know how that is possible?A heart that is distant creates a wilderness round it.I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge,Then gaze long at the distant summer hills.The mountain air is fresh at the dusk of day:The flying birds two by two return.In these things there lies a deep meaning;Yet when we would express it, words suddenly fail us.
Words in this poem
- seared a.
- Scorched; cauterized; hence, figuratively, insensible; not susceptible to moral influences.
- laziness n.
- The state or quality of being lazy.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Blaming Sons (An Apology for His Own Drunkenness) is in the public domain. This text is taken from A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #42290, the Arthur Waley translation; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Various, Blaming Sons (An Apology for His Own Drunkenness), in A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems (1918), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #42290, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/waley-chinese/blaming-sons-an-apology-for-his-own-drunkenness.html, id L18784.
Form and metre
Blaming Sons (An Apology for His Own Drunkenness) is 24 lines in 2 verse paragraphs. It is unrhymed, as far as the pronouncing dictionary can tell. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 75%). 83% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.8 syllables. 5 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending.
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ----A---AA---- temples · repair · sons · brush · eighteenA · him · best · arts · thirteenA · sevenA · year · eat · this · cup
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| White hair covers my temples, | 7 | ··/˘·/˘ |
| I am wrinkled and seared beyond repair, | 10 | ··/˘····˘/ |
| And though I have got five sons, | 7 | ······· |
| They all hate paper and brush. | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| A-shu is eighteen: | 5 | ···˘/ |
| For laziness there is none like him. | 9 | ·/˘˘····· |
| A-hsüan does his best, | 5 | ····· |
| But really loathes the Fine Arts. | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| Yung-tuan is thirteen. | 5 | ···// |
| But does not know “six” from “seven.” | 8 | ······/˘ |
| T’ung-tzŭ in his ninth year | 6 | ······ |
| Is only concerned with things to eat. | 9 | ·/˘˘/···· |
| If Heaven treats me like this, | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| What can I do but fill my cup? | 8 | ········ |
| I built my hut in a zone of human habitation, | 14 | ········/˘·˘/˘ |
| Yet near me there sounds no noise of horse or coach. | 11 | ··········· |
| Would you know how that is possible? | 9 | ······/˘˘ |
| A heart that is distant creates a wilderness round it. | 14 | ····/˘˘/·/˘˘·· |
| I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge, | 12 | ··˘/˘˘···/˘· |
| Then gaze long at the distant summer hills. | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| The mountain air is fresh at the dusk of day: | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| The flying birds two by two return. | 9 | ·/˘····˘/ |
| In these things there lies a deep meaning; | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Yet when we would express it, words suddenly fail us. | 13 | ····˘/··/˘˘·· |
Notes from the edition 1
Arthur Waley's notes to A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems (1918; Project Gutenberg #42290).
- Stanza 1, line 10 Written in Chinese with two characters very easy to distinguish.
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