— Li He
The mason of Duanzhou has marvel-doing hands,
Whetting his knife to carve blue clouds, aloft he stands.
He grinds the stone in order to make an inkwell;
Violet flowers look dim like cold blood shed pell-mell.
Black flowers seem like spring at noon behind the screen;
The pine-soot ink steeped in water smells like musk keen.
Smooth, water-proof, flat and heavy, it stands steadfast;
Like autumn bright its color, rain or shine, will last.
Your brush will make no noise when on paper you write.
Could the inkstone of Confucius give such delight?
Note
Li He (790–816 CE), nicknamed the “Ghostly Genius” of the Tang Dynasty, was a wildly imaginative and stylistically innovative poet known for his surreal imagery, vivid colors, and fascination with the mystical, the artisanal, and the macabre. Though he died young, his work left a lasting mark on Chinese poetry through its intense sensory detail and unconventional metaphors.
His poem “Master Yang’s Azure-and-Purple Stone Inkstone” (The Violet Inkstand of Master Yang) is a dazzling tribute to a masterfully crafted inkstone from Duanzhou (modern Zhaoqing), famed for its high-quality inkstone. Rather than merely describe the object, Li He transforms its creation into a mythic act: the stone carver is so skilled he “treads the sky and grinds his blade to slice purple clouds” – a hyperbolic image blending celestial wonder with artisanal precision.
He then evokes the inkstone’s texture and function: it holds water like full lips, and when ink is ground, it seems to release the “cold blood-stains of Chang Hong,” a legendary minister whose spilled blood turned green after death – linking the ink’s deep hue to ancient sacrifice and moral integrity.
The middle lines luxuriate in the writing experience: warm daylight filters through gauze curtains, ink blooms like spring flowers, and the scent of pine soot and musk rises with delicate foam. The finished ink is smooth, rich, and evenly viscous – so luminous that “for several inches around, autumn light shines even without sun.”
Finally, Li He declares that with such a brush and inkstone, the famed Confucian scholar Kong Rong’s broad, old-fashioned inkstone is no longer worth mentioning – celebrating innovation over tradition.
Through extravagant metaphor and sensory richness, Li He elevates a humble writing tool into an object of cosmic artistry and cultural reverence.
杨生青花紫石砚歌
— 李贺
端州石工巧如神，踏天磨刀割紫云。
傭刓抱水含满唇，暗洒苌弘冷血痕。
纱帷昼暖墨花春，轻沤漂沫松麝薰。
干腻薄重立脚匀，数寸光秋无日昏。
圆毫促点声静新：孔砚宽硕何足云！
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