杜甫：《观公孙大娘弟子舞剑器行》 Du Fu: Watching Sword Dance Performance by Gongsun Daniang's Disciple

杜甫（712-770）是中国唐朝诗人。与李白齐名，普遍被认为是中国最伟大的诗人。它最大的愿望就是要做个成功的官僚，可是使非所愿。他的生活，就好像整个国家一样，为安禄山之乱所破坏了，而他生命的最后15年，一直在动乱中过着。

唐代玄宗时期，艺术成就与奢侈皆为典范。杜甫为据说为公孙大娘之弟子李十二娘的剑舞所惊叹，而写了《观公孙大娘弟子舞剑器行》诗并序。公孙大娘是玄宗宫中的一个女剑舞者，她的剑舞可说无敌。据说著名书法家张旭为其《剑器》舞而得灵感，并把其优美舞姿融入其书法中。她的有名的剑舞有：(1) 《西河剑器》 ，(2) 《浑脱剑器》 ，(3) 《裴将军满堂势》，(4) 《邻里曲》。
以下就是序文与诗：

大历二年十月十九日夔府别驾元持宅见临颍李十二 娘舞剑器，壮其蔚跂。问其所师，曰：余公孙大娘弟子也。
开元三载，余尚童稚，记于郾城观公孙氏 舞剑器浑脱。浏漓顿挫，独出冠时。自高头宜春梨园二伎坊内人，洎外供奉，晓是舞者，圣文神武皇帝初，公孙一人而已。玉貌锦衣，况余白首！今兹弟子亦匪盛颜。既辨其由来，知波澜莫二。抚事慷慨，聊为剑器行。
昔者吴人张旭善草书书帖，数尝 于邺县见公孙大娘舞西河剑器，自此草书长进，豪荡感激。即公孙可知矣！

昔有佳人公孙氏， 一舞剑器动四方。
观者如山色沮丧， 天地为之久低昂。
霍如羿射九日落， 矫如群帝骖龙翔，
来如雷霆收震怒， 罢如江海凝清光。
绛唇珠袖两寂寞， 晚有弟子传芬芳。
临颍美人在白帝， 妙舞此曲神扬扬。
与余问答既有以， 感时抚事增惋伤。
先帝侍女八千人， 公孙剑器初第一。
五十年间似反掌， 风尘澒洞昏王室。
梨园子弟散如烟， 女乐余姿映寒日。
金粟堆前木已拱， 瞿塘石城草萧瑟。
玳筵急管曲复终， 乐极哀来月东出。
老夫不知其所往？ 足茧荒山转愁疾。
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Du Fu (712–770) was a prominent Chinese poet of the Tang Dynsaty. Along with Li Bai, he is frequently called the greatest of the Chinese poets. His greatest ambition was to serve his country as a successful civil servant, but he proved unable to make the necessary accommodations. His life, like the whole country, was devastated by the An Lushan Rebellion of 755, and his last 15 years were a time of almost constant unrest.

The Tang Dynasty during Xuan Zong's reign was probably the epitome of artistic achievements as well as indulgence. Du Fu was awed by the performance of a sword dancer Twelfth Lady Li who claimed to have been the disciple of Gongsun Da Niang, and he wrote a poem after watching her sword dance. The term Da Niang can be translated to First Lady or an honorary term for a mistress (master). Gongsun Daniang was a female sword dancer in the court of Emperor Xuan Zong who was probably the greatest in her field. It is said that famous calligrapher Zhang Xu was so inspired by her sword dance that he incorporated the beautiful dance movements into his calligraphy. Her famous dance repertoire included, (1) West River Jianqi (sword dance), (2) Dashing Demeanours Jianqi (sword dance), (3) General Pei's Grand Performance, probably named after General Pei Min (裴旻), (4) Neighbourhood Symphony.

Before writing the poem, Du Fu explained the background of his writing:

On the 19th of the tenth-month in the second year of Dali (15 Nov 767), I saw, in the house of the Kueifu official Yuanchi, a girl named Li from Lingying dancing with a sword. I admired her skill and asked who her teacher was. She replied, ‘I am a pupil of Gongsun.’
I remembered that in the third year of Kaiyuan (717) at Yancheng, when I was a little boy, I saw Lady Gongsun dance jianqi and huntuo. For purity of technique and self-confident attack she was unrivalled in her day. From the ‘royal command performers’ to the ‘insiders’ of the Spring Garden and Pear Garden schools in the palace down to the ‘official call’ dancers, there was no one during the early years of His Sagely Pacific and Divinely Martial Majesty who understood this dance as she did. Where now is that lovely figure in its gorgeous costume? Now even I am an old, white-haired man, and this pupil of hers is well passed the prime. Having found out about the pupil’s antecedents, I now realised that what I had been watching was a faithful reproduction of the great dancer’s interpretation. The train of reflections set off by this discovery so moved that I felt inspired to compose a ballad of the jianqi.
Some years ago, Zhang Xu, the great master of the cursive style of calligraphy, had several times seen Gongsun dance the West River Jianqi (sword dance) at Ye district. He discovered later, to his immense gratification, that his calligraphy had greatly improved. This gives one some idea of the sort of person Gongsun was.

There lived years ago the beautiful Gongsun,
Who, dancing with her dagger, drew from all four quarters,
An audience like mountains lost among themselves.
Heaven and earth moved back and forth, following her motions,
Which were bright as when the Archer shot the nine suns down the sky,
And rapid as angels before the wings of dragons.
She began like a thunderbolt, venting its anger,
And ended like the shining calm of rivers and the sea....
But vanished are those red lips and those pearly sleeves;
And none but this one pupil bears the perfume of her fame,
This beauty from Lingying, at the Town of the White God,
Dancing still and singing in the old blithe way.
And while we reply to each other's questions,
We sigh together, saddened by changes that have come.
There were eight thousand ladies in the late Emperor's court,
But none could dance the dagger-dance like Lady Gongsun.
...Fifty years have passed, like the turning of a palm;
Wind and dust, filling the world, obscure the Imperial House.
Instead of the Pear-Garden Players, who have blown by like a mist,
There are one or two girl-musicians now-trying to charm the cold Sun.
There are man-size trees by the Emperor's Golden Tomb
I seem to hear dead grasses rattling on the cliffs of Qutang.
...The song is done, the slow string and quick pipe have ceased.
At the height of joy, sorrow comes with the eastern moon rising.
And I, a poor old man, not knowing where to go,
Must harden my feet on the lone hills, toward sickness and despair.