Account of the Pavillion of an Old Drunkard [left of a pair]

Kōtaku was most responsible for the spread of karayō (Chinese-style) calligraphy also by publishing instructive guidebooks. The Chinese statesman, calligrapher, and poet Ouyang Xiu (1007–1072) wrote the story of the Old Drunkard's Pavilion in 1046. Chu has mountains all around it, but the forests and valleys in the southwestern range are particularly attractive. There is one that even from a distance appears to be the most lush and elegant; that is Langye Mountain. If you walk a few miles into its hills, you gradually become aware of the sound of gurgling water flowing out from between two peaks; this is Wine-Brewing Brook. The road winds past veering heights, and soon you come to a pavilion that spreads out beside the spring: this is Old Drunkard’s Pavilion. Who was it that built this pavilion? A monk of the mountains, Zhi Xian. Who named it? The Governor, who named it after himself. The Governor and his friends go there often to drink. The Governor gets drunk on even a small amount of wine, and he is also the oldest in the group; that is why he calls himself the Old Drunkard. However, the Old Drunkard’s real interest is not the wine but the mountains and streams. Having caught the joys of the mountains and streams in his hear, he lodges them in wine. When the sun rises, the forest mists vanish; these alternations of light and darkness mark the mountains’ dawns and dusks. As the wild flowers blossom they send forth subtle fragrance, as tall trees bloom they yield deep shade; then the winds and frost are lofty and pure, the rivers dry up and their stones are exposed; these are the four seasons in the mountains. If one spends the day walking in the mountains, one finds that the scenery changes with each season, and the pleasure it provides likewise has no end. Men carrying heavy loads sing in the valleys, travelers rest under the trees, those in front call out, and those behind yell back. From old men with crooked backs to children led by the hand—people pass back and forth continuously; those are the natives of Chu moving along the paths. One may find fish in the brook, whose water is fragrant and whose wine is clear. To have, in addition, mountain fruits and wild herbs arrayed before one; this is the Governor’s feast. The pleasures of the feast are not those of strings and flutes. One man shoots and hits the target while another wins at a game of chess. Goblets and tallies are strewn about in the chattering hubbub of men, some sitting and others standing; these are the enjoyments of the guests. Then there is one man with a wrinkled face and white hair who sprawls on the ground; this is the drunken Governor. Later, the setting sun touches the mountains and men’s shadows overlap; this signals the Governor’s departure, with the guests close behind. Then the forest lies in darkness with no sound but the chirping of birds; the revelers have left and the birds now are joyous. But although the birds know the joys of the mountain forest, they do not know the joy of the guests. And although the guests know the joy of accompanying the Governor, they do not know the Governor’s joy in their joy. While drunk he shares in their joy, and when he sobers up he records it all in writing; this is the Governor. Who is the Governor? Ouyang Xiu of Luling.