Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng

By Wang Bo (Tang Dynasty)

The old prefecture of Yuzhang, now the new seat of Hongzhou.
Its stars align with the constellations Yi and Zhen; its land borders Mount Heng and Mount Lu.
Girded by the Three Rivers and belted by the Five Lakes, it commands the southern Jing region and links Ou and Yue.
Here nature’s splendor meets heaven’s treasure – the dragon’s radiance shines upon the ruins between the Ox and Dipper stars.
Here gifted people dwell in a land of spiritual grace – Xu Ru once lowered Chen Fan’s guest bed in honor.

Great cities rise like mist; talents dart like stars across the sky.
The city walls straddle the frontier between barbarian and civilized lands; host and guests alike embody the finest of the southeast.
Governor Yan, of noble repute, arrives from afar with ceremonial halberds;
Prefect Yuwen of Xinzhou, a model of virtue, temporarily halts his canopy-covered carriage.

During this ten-day holiday, distinguished friends gather like clouds;
From a thousand miles away, honored guests fill every seat.
Words soar like leaping dragons and rising phoenixes – Master Meng, master of literary elegance;
Weapons gleam like violet lightning and blue frost – General Wang, keeper of martial prowess.

My father serves as magistrate; our journey passes through this famed region.
What does a mere youth know, yet I am privileged to attend this grand feast?

It is the ninth month, deep in autumn.
The floodwaters have receded; the cold pool runs clear.
Evening haze gathers; the distant hills glow purple.
We ride fine steeds along the high road, seeking scenery among lofty peaks.
We arrive at the prince’s long islet, finding the immortal’s ancient pavilion.

Layered ridges rise emerald-green, piercing the layered heavens;
Flying galleries blaze with crimson, hanging above an abyss.
Cranes rest on sandbars; wildfowl nest on islets – winding islands coil endlessly.
Palaces of cassia and orchid follow the contours of the hills.

Pushing open brocade doors, gazing down carved rooftops –
Plains and mountains stretch boundlessly before the eyes; rivers and marshes twist in breathtaking curves.
Houses crowd the earth – homes where bells chime and cauldrons boil with feasts;
Ships and war vessels clog the ferry – prows adorned like green birds and yellow dragons.

Clouds part, rain ceases; colors brighten the world.
Falling sunset glows with a lone wild duck in flight;
Autumn waters blend seamlessly with the endless sky.
Evening songs from fishing boats echo along Pengli’s shores;
Wild geese startled by cold cry until their voices fade at Hengyang’s banks.

Our spirits soar, our thoughts wander freely.
Clear flutes stir cool breezes; delicate songs halt drifting clouds.
The green bamboo of Sui Garden outshines Tao Yuanming’s wine cup;
The red lotuses of Ye River rival the brilliance of Linchuan’s pen.

All four delights converge; both rare joys unite.
We gaze upward into the mid-heavens, reveling in leisure’s pleasures.
Heaven soars, earth stretches – how vast the universe!
Joy fades, sorrow rises – we grasp that fullness and emptiness follow fate.

We look toward Chang’an beneath the sun; glimpse Wu and Kuaiji beyond the clouds.
The land ends southward in the deep Southern Sea; the Pillar of Heaven rises, the North Star lies distant.
Mountains and passes are hard to cross – who pities the lost traveler?
Drifting like duckweed, we meet – strangers all, far from home.
Longing for the imperial court, yet unseen; when shall we serve in the Xuan Room?

Alas! Fortune is uneven; destiny is fraught with twists.
Feng Tang aged quickly; Li Guang never received his due.
Jia Yi was exiled to Changsha – not for lack of a wise ruler;
Liang Hong fled to the coast – not in absence of enlightened times.

Yet the noble person discerns the signs; the wise accept fate.
Old age strengthens resolve – shall white hair change one’s heart?
In hardship, one grows firmer – never abandoning lofty aspirations.
Drink from the Greedy Spring, yet feel refreshed;
Trapped in a dried rut, still find joy.

Though the Northern Sea is distant, a whirlwind can reach it;
Though morning is lost, evening is not too late.
Meng Chang was pure but left only patriotic longing;
Ruan Ji raged wildly – shall we mimic his tears at a dead end?

I, Bo – a humble life, just a scholar.
No path to offer my service, though like Zhong Jun at twenty;
Dreaming of casting aside my pen, I admire Zong Que’s soaring ambition.
Would trade a lifetime of official honors for filial duty across ten thousand miles.
Not a precious tree of the Xie clan, yet blessed to neighbor the Mencius household.
One day I’ll walk the courtyard, humbly receiving paternal instruction;
Today, grasping your sleeves, I rejoice to enter the Dragon Gate.

If Yang Yi had not appeared, I’d lament my lofty words unheard;
But having met Zhong Qi, why feel shame playing “Flowing Water”?

Ah!
Rare are such places; grand banquets seldom repeat.
Orchid Pavilion is gone; Zi Ze lies in ruins.
At parting, I offer these words – grateful for grace at this magnificent feast.
Ascending heights to compose verse – that is my hope for you, honored guests.

Dare I bare my humble thoughts? I respectfully offer this brief preface.
Each composes a line; four rhymes complete the poem:

High stands Prince Teng’s pavilion by river isle;
Jade pendants and phoenix bells fall silent, dance and song done.
At dawn, painted beams greet clouds from southern shore;
At dusk, pearl screens roll up western mountain rain.
Leisurely clouds, pond shadows – days drift slow;
Seasons shift, stars wheel – how many autumns pass?
Where is the prince who built this pavilion now?
Beyond the rail, the Yangtze flows on – empty, eternal.

Note

Wang Bo (650–676 CE) was one of the Four Great Masters of the Early Tang Dynasty, renowned for his precocious literary talent. Born into a scholarly family, he gained fame as a teenager for his brilliant essays and poetry. However, his career was short and turbulent – he offended the court with satirical writings and was dismissed from office early in life.

Though he died young – at only 26 – his works left a lasting mark on Chinese literature, especially for their emotional depth, rhetorical elegance, and mastery of parallel prose (pianwen). His most famous works include Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng, Farewell to Prefect Du, On the High Terrace, etc.

The Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng was composed around 675 CE, when Wang Bo was just 25 years old. According to legend, while traveling to visit his father (who had been demoted to a remote post in modern-day Vietnam), Wang Bo stopped in Hongzhou (present-day Nanchang, Jiangxi). There, he attended a grand banquet hosted by Governor Yan at the newly restored Pavilion of Prince Teng – a structure originally built by Li Yuanying, a son of Emperor Taizong of Tang.

Though uninvited, Wang Bo impressed everyone by spontaneously composing this ornate, rhymed prose preface filled with historical allusions, vivid imagery, and philosophical reflections. The piece became an instant classic, celebrated for its linguistic brilliance and emotional depth. Tragically, Wang Bo died shortly afterward, drowning in the South China Sea during a storm.

This work exemplifies “parallel prose” (pianwen) – a highly stylized form using balanced couplets, rich metaphors, and classical references – and remains one of the most admired pieces of Chinese literary prose.

Historical Figures & Allusions in the Prologue

Wang Bo’s essay is rich with classical Chinese references. Below are the main historical figures and allusions mentioned:

Xu Ru (Xu Zhi) and Chen Fan

– Xu Ru was a virtuous recluse of the Eastern Han dynasty. Prefect Chen Fan, known for his integrity, kept a special guest bed only for Xu – lowered when Xu visited, raised when he left. This symbolizes sincere respect for talent and virtue.

Feng Tang

– A Han official who remained obscure until old age. The phrase “Feng Tang easily grows old” laments wasted talent and late recognition.

Li Guang

– A famed Han general celebrated for bravery but never granted a noble title despite his merits. His story represents unfulfilled ambition.

Jia Yi

– A brilliant Confucian scholar of the early Han, exiled to Changsha by Emperor Wen. Though the emperor was wise, political intrigue led to Jia’s marginalization – showing that even good rulers can misjudge.

Liang Hong

– An Eastern Han moralist who fled to the coast (Shandong) to avoid corrupt politics. His exile wasn’t due to dark times but personal principle, illustrating righteous withdrawal.

Tao Yuanming (implied as “Pengze”)

– Referred to via “Pengze’s wine cup” (he once served as magistrate of Pengze). Symbolizes poetic retreat and love of nature. His most famous works include Returning to Dwell in Gardens and Fields, Drinking Wine, The Peach Blossom Spring, Biography of Master Five Willows, etc.

Cao Zhi (“Linchuan’s pen”)

– Though “Linchuan” technically refers to later writer Xie Lingyun, here it evokes Cao Zhi of the Three Kingdoms – a literary genius famed for his elegant verse.

Zong Que

– A Southern Dynasties general who, as a youth, declared his ambition: “I wish to ride the long wind and break ten thousand waves!” Wang Bo cites him to express his own lofty aspirations.

Zhong Jun

– A young Han envoy who volunteered at age 18 to secure foreign allegiance, saying, “Give me a silken cord to bind the enemy.” Wang Bo compares himself to Zhong, lamenting he has “no path to offer service.”

Meng Chang

– A righteous official of the Jin dynasty known for integrity but unable to serve his country effectively – symbolizing frustrated patriotism.

Ruan Ji

– A poet-philosopher of the Wei-Jin period who, despairing of politics, would drive his cart aimlessly and weep when reaching a dead end. Wang Bo rejects this passive despair: “Shall I imitate Ruan Ji’s tears at a dead end?”

Yang Yi and Sima Xiangru

– Yang Yi recommended Sima Xiangru, whose grand rhapsodies moved Emperor Wu of Han. Wang Bo sighs, “If Yang Yi had not appeared,” implying his own genius might go unrecognized.

Bo Ya and Zhong Zi (Zhong Qi)

– Legendary musician Bo Ya played “Flowing Water”; only his friend Zhong Zi truly understood his music. After Zhong’s death, Bo smashed his zither. Wang Bo says, “Now that I’ve met Zhong Qi, why feel shame playing ‘Flowing Water’?” – expressing gratitude for finding kindred spirits at the banquet.

Prince Teng (Li Yuanying)

– Son of Emperor Taizong of Tang, who built the pavilion in Nanchang in 653 CE. By Wang Bo’s time, the prince was gone – prompting the famous closing line: “Where is the prince now? Beyond the rail, the Yangtze flows on – empty, eternal.”

Orchid Pavilion (Lanting) and Zi Ze

– The Orchid Pavilion refers to Wang Xizhi’s famous 4th-century gathering; Zi Ze was a luxurious garden of the Jin dynasty. Both symbolize past cultural glory now vanished – underscoring the theme of transience.

These allusions allow Wang Bo to weave personal emotion, historical reflection, and philosophical insight into a single, dazzling literary tapestry – celebrating talent, mourning impermanence, yet affirming enduring spiritual freedom.

《滕王阁序》唐·王勃

豫章故郡，洪都新府。星分翼轸，地接衡庐。襟三江而带五湖，控蛮荆而引瓯越。物华天宝，龙光射牛斗之墟；人杰地灵，徐孺下陈蕃之榻。雄州雾列，俊采星驰。台隍枕夷夏之交，宾主尽东南之美。都督阎公之雅望，棨戟遥临；宇文新州之懿范，襜帷暂驻。十旬休假，胜友如云；千里逢迎，高朋满座。腾蛟起凤，孟学士之词宗；紫电青霜，王将军之武库。家君作宰，路出名区；童子何知，躬逢胜饯。

时维九月，序属三秋。潦水尽而寒潭清，烟光凝而暮山紫。俨骖騑于上路，访风景于崇阿。临帝子之长洲，得仙人之旧馆。层峦耸翠，上出重霄；飞阁流丹，下临无地。鹤汀凫渚，穷岛屿之萦回；桂殿兰宫，即冈峦之体势。

披绣闼，俯雕甍，山原旷其盈视，川泽纡其骇瞩。闾阎扑地，钟鸣鼎食之家；舸舰迷津，青雀黄龙之舳。云销雨霁，彩彻区明。落霞与孤鹜齐飞，秋水共长天一色。渔舟唱晚，响穷彭蠡之滨，雁阵惊寒，声断衡阳之浦。

遥襟甫畅，逸兴遄飞。爽籁发而清风生，纤歌凝而白云遏。睢园绿竹，气凌彭泽之樽；邺水朱华，光照临川之笔。四美具，二难并。穷睇眄于中天，极娱游于暇日。天高地迥，觉宇宙之无穷；兴尽悲来，识盈虚之有数。望长安于日下，目吴会于云间。地势极而南溟深，天柱高而北辰远。关山难越，谁悲失路之人；萍水相逢，尽是他乡之客。怀帝阍而不见，奉宣室以何年？

嗟乎！时运不齐，命途多舛。冯唐易老，李广难封。屈贾谊于长沙，非无圣主；窜梁鸿于海曲，岂乏明时？所赖君子见机，达人知命。老当益壮，宁移白首之心？穷且益坚，不坠青云之志。酌贪泉而觉爽，处涸辙以犹欢。北海虽赊，扶摇可接；东隅已逝，桑榆非晚。孟尝高洁，空余报国之情；阮籍猖狂，岂效穷途之哭！勃，三尺微命，一介书生。无路请缨，等终军之弱冠；有怀投笔，慕宗悫之长风。舍簪笏于百龄，奉晨昏于万里。非谢家之宝树，接孟氏之芳邻。他日趋庭，叨陪鲤对；今兹捧袂，喜托龙门。杨意不逢，抚凌云而自惜；钟期既遇，奏流水以何惭？

呜乎！胜地不常，盛筵难再；兰亭已矣，梓泽丘墟。临别赠言，幸承恩于伟饯；登高作赋，是所望于群公。敢竭鄙怀，恭疏短引；一言均赋，四韵俱成。请洒潘江，各倾陆海云尔：

滕王高阁临江渚，佩玉鸣鸾罢歌舞。

画栋朝飞南浦云，珠帘暮卷西山雨。

闲云潭影日悠悠，物换星移几度秋。

阁中帝子今何在？槛外长江空自流。