Here follows an entire story in Classical Chinese, on a history (of a rather sordid type, as you will read) about two persons who really existed in the Koryeo period, Koryeo (also transcribed as Goryeo) being a Medieval state on the Korean peninsula. The two historical figures in question are Kim Bu-shik (金富軾, 1075 - 1151 AD) and Cheong Ji-sang (鄭知常, ? - 1135 AD). The former is especially known, as he was the scholar-official who compiled an authoritative history of the former states that Korea had known before the Koryeo dynasty was founded, named Samguksagi (三國史記).
Each fragment of the original text in Classical Chinese is followed by my translation thereof. The Classical Chinese text, along with some additional reading aids such as commas and quotation marks, is taken from the text as it appears in the learner for Classical Chinese titles Kyoyang Hanmun (敎養漢文) from Sungkyunkwan University Press (2nd edition, 6th print, 2005). The original text would be in a collection of prose and poetry called Paeg’unsoseol (白雲小設), compiled by Yi Kyu-bo (李奎報, 1168 - 1241 AD).
Now that we have provided a scant overview of the story’s protagonists and textual sources, let’s proceed with the text and translation, fragment-by-fragment!
侍中金富軾 • 學士鄭知常, 文章齊名一世, 兩人爭, 輒不相能.
Senior government scribe Kim Bu-shik and scholar Cheong Ji-sang, equally renowned contemporaries in the realm of letters, got in a conflict with each other and all of a sudden could not suffer one another.
世傳, 知相有 '琳宮 梵語罷, 天色淨琉璃' 之句, 富軾喜而索之 欲作己詩 終不許.
Legend has it that Ji-sang had (created) the following lines of poetry: “As in Buddha’s temple the (chanting of) Sanskrit ceased, the colour of the sky was as clear as glass.” Bu-shik was enthusiastic (about these lines) and sought to use them in his own poetry, but he never got permission (from Ji-sang).
後知常爲富軾所誅, 作陰鬼, 富軾一日詠春詩曰 “柳色千絲綠, 桃花萬點紅.”
Subsequently Ji-sang was caused to be executed by Bu-shik and transformed into a spirit. On some day Bu-shik sang a poem on spring with the following lines: “The willow affords a sight of a thousand green threads, the peach blossom - that of ten thousand red knots.”
忽於空中, 鄭鬼批富軾頰曰 “千絲萬點, 有孰數之也? 何不曰 '柳色絲絲綠, 桃花點點紅'?”
Out of the blue, Cheong’s spirit slapped Bu-shik on the cheek and said: “(So you are speaking of) a thousand threads and ten thousand knots, (but) was there anyone who counted them? Why would you not say instead: “The willow affords a sight of many a green thread and the peach blossom - that of a multitude of red knots”?”
富軾心頗惡之.
Bu-shik found this very abhorrent.
後往一寺, 偶登厠.
Later on (Bu-shik) went to a Buddhist temple. It so happened that he had to go to the outhouse (there).
鄭鬼從後握陰囊, 問曰 “不飮酒, 何面紅?”
Cheong’s spirit, having tailed (him), grasped the … dangling bits in (Bu-shik’s) nether region and asked: “You haven’t drunk alcohol, (so) why has your face turned red?”
富軾徐曰 “隔岸丹風照面紅.”
Bu-shik said in a slow, dignified manner: “(My) face is as red as the maple foliage in autumn glistening from the hills at the end of the valley.”
鄭鬼緊握陰囊曰 “何物皮囊子?”
Cheong’s spirit grasped the dangling bits (even more) tightly and said: “What kind of thing is (this) leather sack?”
富軾曰 “汝父囊鐵乎?” 色不變.
Bu-shik said: “Was your father’s sack of iron?!,” without changing his countenance.
鄭鬼握囊尤力, 富軾竟死於厠中.
Cheong’s spirit applied even more force in his grip on the aforementioned nether region, (and) Bu-shik finally died in the outhouse.
Finally, having rendered the full text in several fragments and subsequent translations, I would like to share with you my questions regarding its contents, which I myself do not (as yet) have a satisfying answer.
Firstly, 侍中, which I have translated as “senior government scribe,” seems to be a catch-all term for rather high-ranked officials in a certain department known at that time in Koryeo as the Munhabu (門下府), an organ which seems to be mainly involved with records and texts in several ways. Terms like 侍中 denoting more or less specific classes of officials are notoriously hard to translate somewhat understandably and in a way that does justice to the work or reputation of the office(s) they cover. If anyone within my readership has a better alternative translation than “senior government scribe,” I would be more than happy to know.
Finally, truth be told, the allure that the poetic lines '琳宮 梵語罷, 天色淨琉璃' (translated freely above as follows: “As in Buddha’s temple the (chanting of) Sanskrit ceased, the colour of the sky was as clear as glass”) must have had on Kim Bu-shik eludes me. As a matter of fact, I cannot put my finger on the actual meaning of this poetic fragment. I can think of two possibly right meanings (or interpretations, if you will): 1. The Sanskrit used had a purifying effect on the sky (or the perception of the sky, for all that matter), so that, once the chanting stopped, the poet-cum-spectator could observe the sky as being as clear as glass, or 2. Once Buddha’s temple did away with the (foolish/superstitious) chanting in a foreign language, the situation got better, which is represented by the sky that is clear as glass. Would anyone among my esteemed readers have any thoughts or educated guesses with regards to the purport of '琳宮 梵語罷, 天色淨琉璃'? Again, I would be very glad to receive further feedback!
So this wraps up my first publication here in my personal corner of Substack. Any comments on my translations, criticisms, layout used etc. will be very much appreciated, as long as they are constructive. Stay tuned and thank you for following my publications!