All poems

宋 Song · 词 Ci lyric

贺铸·鹧鸪天·重过阊门万事非

Zhegulang: Passing Again Changmen, All Things Gone

贺铸

He Zhu

婉约Graceful and Restrained 悼亡Mourning for the Deceased

重过阊门万事非，同来何事不同归？
梧桐半死清霜后，头白鸳鸯失伴飞。
原上草，露初晞，旧栖新垅两依依。
空床卧听南窗雨，谁复挑灯夜补衣？

Passing again Changmen, all things are gone,
We came together, why not together return?
After clear frost, the parasol tree half dead,
White-headed mandarin ducks fly without their mate.
Grass on the plain,
Dew just drying,
Old home and new grave both cling to me.
On the empty bed I lie listening to rain at the south window,
Who again trims the lamp and mends clothes at night?

Listen

Meaning

The poet revisits the site of his former home in Changmen and is overwhelmed by the loss of his wife. He uses images of a half-dead parasol tree and a lost mandarin duck to express his grief. The final scene of lying on an empty bed and recalling his wife's nightly sewing by lamplight is poignant and vivid.

重新走过阊门，万事都已改变，当年同来为何如今不能同归？梧桐在清霜之后半死，白头鸳鸯失去了伴侣独自飞。原野上的草，露水刚刚晒干，旧居与新坟两处依依难舍。空床上卧听南窗夜雨，还有谁会挑灯在夜里为我补衣？

Appreciation

This is a masterpiece of mourning poetry. It begins with a blunt question, then employs nature imagery (tree, bird) to symbolize the poet's desolation. The contrast between the old home and the new grave deepens the sorrow. The final detail—the unspoken question 'who will mend my clothes by lamplight?'—turns ordinary domesticity into a heart-wrenching memory.

【白话串讲】贺铸重过苏州，妻子已经去世。“梧桐半死清霜后，头白鸳鸯失伴飞”——他半夜睡不着，听南窗的雨：“谁复挑灯夜补衣”？再没有人为他熬夜补衣服了。【意象与手法】上片以问起势，「同来何事不同归」直逼人心；「梧桐半死」「头白鸳鸯」借物自况，比兴兼用，写尽丧偶之孤；下片由景及情，结以「空床卧听南窗雨，谁复挑灯夜补衣」，截取夜雨补衣一细节，于平淡中见锥心之恸。【情感与主旨】贺铸娶宗室女，夫妻情笃。妻子去世后，词人途经苏州阊门（二人曾居之处），触景生悲，写下这首《鹧鸪天》。北宋士大夫词多写艳情，贺铸独以悼亡入词，情真意切，与苏轼《江城子》并称宋代悼亡双璧。【名句点睛】赏析重点：①把握抚今追昔的悼亡结构；②分析「梧桐半死」「鸳鸯失伴」的比兴；③体会结句「谁复挑灯夜补衣」细节描写的感人力量。

Background

He Zhu married a woman from the imperial clan and they shared a deep bond. After her death, he passed through Changmen in Suzhou, where they had once lived, and composed this ci poem. It is considered one of the finest mourning poems of the Song dynasty, often paired with Su Shi's 'Jiangchengzi'.

此词为贺铸悼亡词的代表作，作于其妻赵氏去世后，词人重经苏州阊门时。贺铸（1052—1125），字方回，号庆湖遗老，卫州（今河南卫辉）人，北宋词人，出身贵族而仕途偃蹇，晚年退居苏州、常州一带。贺铸之妻赵氏为宗室女，封越国夫人，夫妻感情甚笃；赵氏贤惠，曾为贺铸缝衣补裳，操持家务，夫妻相守多年。妻子去世后，贺铸重经苏州阊门——二人当年曾居于此地——目睹旧地，物是人非，遂写下这首《鹧鸪天》（题一作《半死桐》）。北宋词坛承花间余绪，士大夫词多写艳情与闲愁，以悼亡入词者极少，苏轼《江城子·乙卯正月二十日夜记梦》开悼亡词之先，贺铸此词继之，情真意切，与苏词并称宋代悼亡双璧。贺铸词风兼刚柔，既有《六州歌头》之豪放激越，亦有此词之沉郁哀婉，此词正是其「刚柔并济」词风的婉约一面，亦见其重情天性与伉俪深情。从词史看，悼亡入词始于苏轼《江城子》，贺铸此词继之而更趋细密，开南宋悼亡词（如吴文英悼亡诸作）之先声；且北宋士大夫词多托闺情写艳思，此词直写自身丧偶之痛，感情真切，不涉艳科，是词体由「应歌」转向「言志」进程中的重要一环，亦见贺铸身为武弁而情致深婉的特异之处。

Art

The poem uses a direct opening with a question, then a series of metaphors (parasol tree, mandarin duck) on the pathos of widowhood. The second stanza shifts to a natural scene (grass, dew) and then to a personal moment (empty bed, rain). The final line is a powerful domestic detail that conveys loss through the absence of daily care.

此词艺术上最突出之处，在于以家常细节写至情，语言朴挚、不假雕饰而深情自见。上片以问起势：「重过阊门万事非」点出重游旧地、物是人非之悲，「同来何事不同归」以问句直逼人心——当年同来此地，如今为何不能同归？一问之中，丧偶之痛喷薄而出，沉痛有力。「梧桐半死清霜后，头白鸳鸯失伴飞」借物自况：梧桐经霜而半死，喻夫妻中道相失；鸳鸯白头而失伴，喻老来丧偶之孤，比兴兼用，以物写人，凄清入骨。下片由景及情：「原上草，露初晞」以原草之露喻妻子新逝（化用薤露歌），「旧栖新垅两依依」写旧居新坟两处依恋难舍，物犹有情，何况于人。结句「空床卧听南窗雨，谁复挑灯夜补衣」是全词最动人处：空床独卧，听南窗夜雨，想起当年妻子挑灯补衣的情景，如今再无人为之——截取日常生活的一个细节，以小见大，于平淡中见锥心之恸，催人泪下。再就细节言，「重过」「同来」以今昔对照起笔，「旧栖新垅」以生死对举收束，全词时间线在「当年同来」与「今日独归」之间往复折叠，悼亡之悲因此有了纵深；而「空床」「南窗雨」「挑灯」「补衣」等日常生活意象的连缀，更使悼亡之情落于实处，不流于空泛，正是清真词外贺铸「以实写虚」的独特本领。

Allusions

'Half-dead parasol tree' alludes to Mei Sheng's 'Seven Stimuli' (Qifa), where a parasol tree is half-alive, half-dead, used here to describe the grief of losing a spouse. 'Mandarin ducks' are traditional symbols of conjugal fidelity. 'Dew just drying' echoes a yuefu poem about the brevity of life.

此词用典不多而皆自然融入。「梧桐半死」典出枚乘《七发》：「龙门之桐，高百尺而无枝……其根半死半生。」后以「梧桐半死」喻丧偶（琴瑟之弦断、伉俪之半失），白居易《长恨歌》「秋雨梧桐叶落时」亦以梧桐写失偶之悲，贺铸取此意象自况，贴切而含蓄。「头白鸳鸯失伴飞」以鸳鸯失伴写夫妻离散——鸳鸯本为情侣之鸟，白头鸳鸯更见相守之久，失伴而独飞，孤凄之状如见。此句与前句「梧桐半死」对偶，「半死」「失伴」两两相对，写尽丧偶之痛。「露初晞」化用古乐府《薤露》「薤上露，何易晞」——薤露易干，喻人生短促、死者如露，古人出殡挽歌即用薤露，词人以「露初晞」点出妻子新逝，哀婉之至。诸典融化无痕，皆服务于悼亡抒情，增其沉郁。又，「旧栖新垅两依依」之「依依」本写柳丝摇曳、恋恋不舍（如《诗经》「昔我往矣，杨柳依依」），词人移以写旧居与新坟，使无情的场所俱含依恋之情；「南窗」暗用陶渊明「倚南窗以寄傲」之典，以闲居之景衬今日之悲。诸典皆融化于家常语中，不矜才使学，而倍增其沉郁。

Commentary

The Qing critic Chen Tingzhuo called this poem 'most sorrowful among mourning works.' Modern critics praise the final line for its use of a quotidian detail to express profound grief, setting a new standard for the ci form.

历代评家于此词评价极高，尤重其以家常细节写至情的手法。清人陈廷焯《白雨斋词话》评此词为「悲悼之作，最为沉痛」，谓其「哀怨缠绵，皆以平易出之」。近人论宋代悼亡词，多举苏轼《江城子》与此词并观：苏词「十年生死两茫茫」「小轩窗，正梳妆」以梦境写相思，时空跨越十年，恍惚迷离；贺词「空床卧听南窗雨，谁复挑灯夜补衣」以实景写孤寂，截取夜雨补衣一细节，更见生活质地。论者或谓贺词结句较苏词「小轩窗」更见家常之真——补衣是日复一日的寻常事，一旦失去，才知那寻常之中藏着多少深情，此即「至情无文」而愈显其文的道理。此词语言朴挚，全无雕琢，而情感之真、细节之切，使其成为悼亡词中细节描写的典范，千载之下犹能动人心魄。此词在当代的接受亦值得注意：其「谁复挑灯夜补衣」之句，常被引作夫妻深情的经典写照，入选各类词选与教材；影视、散文亦屡化用其意。这正说明真正的悼亡之诗，不在辞藻之华美，而在细节之真切——一件补衣，胜过千言万语，贺铸以家常语写至情，遂使此词历千载而常新。

Prosody

Form Ci in the tune 'Zhegulang', 55 characters, three even rhymes per stanza词·《鹧鸪天》双调五十五字，上片四句三平韵，下片五句三平韵。

Rhyme Even rhymes throughout (fei, gui, fei, yi, yi, yi)押平声韵，韵脚「非」「归」「飞」「依」「衣」等，一韵到底，音节和婉而情悲。

Tone pattern Parallelism in the third and fourth lines of each stanza《鹧鸪天》源于唐人七言律诗减字增句，上片如七律前四句，下片第三句减为三字两句（「原上草，露初晞」），声情于整饬中见参差；上片第三、四句「梧桐半死清霜后，头白鸳鸯失伴飞」对仗工整，下片起三字句「原上草，露初晞」亦成对。

Reading note This tune derives from a Tang quatrain with added phrases, adapted here for a mournful tone.此词为《鹧鸪天》词牌，双调五十五字，上片四句三平韵、下片五句三平韵，押平声韵一韵到底（非、归、飞、依、衣）。《鹧鸪天》本由唐人七绝、七律演变而来，句式七、七、七、七（上片）、三、三、七、七（下片），既有七言诗的整饬，又有三字句的错落，声情和婉而多变。贺铸取此调写悼亡，正合其「和婉中含沉痛」的需要：上片七字句连绵而下，如泣如诉；下片「原上草，露初晞」三字句短促顿挫，音节一转，由室外之景转入室内之情；结句以问句收束，声情摇曳。全词用韵疏密相间，节奏低回，与悼亡之悲相配。贺铸此词以一调写悼亡，音节情韵俱臻化境，是《鹧鸪天》词牌的名篇，亦见词牌与题材声情相济的典范。

Line by line

重过阊门万事非，同来何事不同归？

Again I pass the Chang Gate; all things are changed. We came together — why do we not return together?

重新走过阊门，万事都已改变；当年同来，为何如今不能同归？

Once more I pass the Chang Gate, and everything has changed; we came here together — why cannot we return together?

起笔即写重游旧地之悲，以问句直逼人心。「重过阊门」点出地点与动作——阊门为苏州城门，是当年夫妻同居之处；「万事非」三字总揽物是人非之变，举重若轻，不说具体何事变了，而「万事」皆非，其痛更深。次句「同来何事不同归」是千古一问：当年我们同来此地，如今为何不能一同归去？一问之中，丧偶之痛喷薄而出——不是「不同归」的诘问，而是「斯人已逝」的哀恸，明知故问，愈问愈痛。两句以问起势，开门见山，把全词的悼亡基调一举定下，沉痛有力，令人不忍卒读。

The opening writes the grief of revisiting the old place, the question pressing the heart at once. Again I pass the Chang Gate names the place and the action — the Chang Gate of Suzhou, where the couple once lived; all things are changed sums the things-changed-and-person-gone in three words, lifting the heavy with a light hand, not saying what changed, and yet all things changed, the grief the deeper. The second line, why do we not return together? is an immortal question: we came here together then, and why cannot we return together now? Within one question the grief of widowhood bursts forth — not the inquiry of why not return, but the lament of the person gone, the question knowing the answer, and the more it questions the more it grieves. The two lines rise on the question, opening straight, fixing the ci's elegy tone at one stroke, somber and forceful, almost too painful to read.

梧桐半死清霜后，头白鸳鸯失伴飞。

The parasol tree, half dead after the pure frost; the white-headed mandarin duck flies, its mate lost.

梧桐在清霜之后半死，白头鸳鸯失去了伴侣独自飞。

The parasol tree is half dead after the pure frost; the white-headed mandarin duck flies, its mate lost.

两句借物自况，写尽丧偶之孤，是上片最工的对偶。「梧桐半死清霜后」：梧桐本是连理之木，经霜而半死，喻夫妻中道相失、生机已折其半——「半死」二字凄厉入骨，正合「半死桐」的题名；「头白鸳鸯失伴飞」：鸳鸯白头，喻夫妻相守到老，如今失伴独飞，其孤凄之状如见。两句一写树、一写鸟，一写「半死」、一写「失伴」，以自然界之物写人间丧偶之痛，比兴兼用，物我合一。对仗亦精工：「梧桐」对「鸳鸯」、「半死」对「失伴」、「清霜后」对「失伴飞」，天然凑泊，不见雕琢之痕，是悼亡词中借物写哀的典范。

The two lines figure the self through things, writing the loneliness of widowhood to the full, the first stanza's most crafted couplet. The parasol tree, half dead after the pure frost: the parasol tree by nature the linked tree, half dead after the frost, figuring the couple's midway loss, the life broken in half — the half-dead two words piercing to the bone, answering the title's half-dead parasol; the white-headed mandarin duck flies, its mate lost: the mandarin duck white-headed figures the couple's growing old together, and now the mate lost, flying alone, the loneliness visible. Two lines, one the tree one the bird, one the half-dead one the mate-lost, writing the human widowhood through the natural things, bixing fused, thing and self one. The balance is exact: parasol against mandarin duck, half-dead against mate-lost, after-the-pure-frost against mate-lost-fly, natural as if made, without the trace of carving, the model of the elegy ci's writing grief through things.

原上草，露初晞，旧栖新垅两依依。

The grass on the plain, the dew just dried; the old dwelling and the new grave — both cling, lingering.

原野上的草，露水刚刚晒干；旧居与新坟，两处依依难舍。

The grass on the plain, the dew just dried; the old lodging and the new grave — the two, lingering and reluctant.

过片由室外的旷野景象转入对旧居新坟的依恋，承上启下。「原上草，露初晞」化用《薤露》「薤上露，何易晞」——露水易干，喻人生短促，暗示妻子新逝不久，如晨露之消逝；「旧栖新垅两依依」写旧居与新坟：旧栖是昔日同住之所，新垅是妻子新坟，一旧一新、一生一死，「两依依」把「依依」赋予两处无情的场所——旧居依恋着主人，新坟依恋着亡者，而词人对两者都难舍难分。此句以物写情，把丧偶之后无处安放的依恋写得具体可感：生者徘徊于旧居与新坟之间，往昔与现时交叠，寸心两处，凄恻动人。

The turning moves from the outdoor plain to the clinging of the old dwelling and the new grave, above and below joined. The grass on the plain, the dew just dried draws on the dew on the shallot, how easily dried — the dew's quick drying figures life's shortness, hinting the wife newly dead, gone like the morning dew; the old lodging and the new grave — the two, lingering and reluctant: the old dwelling the house they shared, the new grave the wife's new tomb, one old one new, one living one dead, the two-lingering endows the word lingering on two feelingless places — the old dwelling clinging to its master, the new grave clinging to the dead, and the poet unable to part from either. The line writes feeling through things, making the after-widowhood's nowhere-to-rest attachment concrete: the living man lingering between the old dwelling and the new grave, the past and the present overlaid, one heart in two places, desolate and moving.

空床卧听南窗雨，谁复挑灯夜补衣？

On the empty bed I lie and hear the rain at the south window; who will again, trimming the lamp, mend my clothes at night?

空床上卧听南窗夜雨，还有谁会挑灯在夜里为我补衣？

On the empty bed I lie listening to the south window's rain; who will again trim the lamp and mend my clothes by night?

结句是全词最动人的句子，截取夜雨补衣的日常生活细节，于平淡中见锥心之恸。「空床卧听南窗雨」写眼前之实景：妻子已逝，床为之空，独卧听雨，一夜无眠——「空」字写形单影只之孤，「南窗雨」写秋夜雨声之凄，环境与心境交融。「谁复挑灯夜补衣」以问作结，回忆往昔：当年妻子常在灯下为我挑针补衣，如今还有谁？一个「复」字，写尽「此情此景永不再得」的怅惘。补衣本是寻常家务，一旦失去，才知那寻常之中藏着多少深情——以最家常的细节写最深的丧偶之痛，平中见奇，淡中见浓，催人泪下，是悼亡词细节描写的典范。

The closing is the ci's most moving line, taking the daily detail of the night's mending under the rain, the piercing grief in the plainness. On the empty bed I lie and hear the south window's rain writes the present scene: the wife gone, the bed empty, lying alone and listening to the rain, a sleepless night — the empty writes the solitary loneliness, the south window's rain the autumn night's desolation, the setting and the mind fused. Who will again, trimming the lamp, mend my clothes by night? ends in the question, recalling the past: the wife once sat by the lamp threading the needle for me, and now who? The one word again writes the never-again longing for this sight. Mending clothes by nature a common task, and once lost, one learns how much feeling lay within the commonness — writing the deepest widowhood grief in the homeliest detail, the strange within the plain, the strong within the faint, moving the reader to tears, the model of the elegy ci's detail writing.

Study

Word focus

非 not; changed; gone 「重过阊门万事非」之「非」字，总揽物是人非之悲，是全词的立骨之字。「非」即「变了、不同了」——重过旧地，城中街巷、屋宇或未大改，而词人眼中「万事皆非」，可见其变不在景而在情：妻子已逝，则整个世界都变了样，故「万事非」三字不是写景之变，而是写心之变。此字妙在举重若轻：不说「悲」「痛」「失」等直露之字，而以一个平平的「非」字道出，含蓄之中分量极重——越是平淡，越是沉痛。与次句「同归」相对，「非」与「归」一叹一问，物是人非之悲与同归不得之痛交织，开篇即定下全词的悼亡基调。

空 A key expression in this poem; read it with the Chinese note below. 「空床卧听南窗雨」之「空」字，写形单影只、无人相伴的凄凉，是下片最见功力的用字。「空床」之「空」含两层意味：一是写实——床上无人，妻子已逝，唯余空床；二是写意——心亦成空，生活因失去伴侣而空虚落寞。此字与「南窗雨」相配：空床独卧，听雨声滴沥，愈见其孤；而「空」字又暗与上片「梧桐半死」相应——树已半死，床亦成空，物之残缺与人之孤寂一脉相通。下句「谁复挑灯夜补衣」之「复」字与「空」呼应：床空则无人补衣，无人补衣则更觉床空，二字回环，把丧偶后的生活之空、心理之空写得淋漓尽致。

复 A key expression in this poem; read it with the Chinese note below. 「谁复挑灯夜补衣」之「复」字，是结句的点睛之字，以反问写「此情此景永不再得」的余痛。「复」即「再、又」——当年妻子挑灯补衣，是日复一日的寻常光景，如今还有谁会再为我挑灯补衣？一个「复」字，把「从前有」与「如今无」的对举凝于一字：正因为从前「复复」如是，如今「谁复」一问才如此锥心。此字又暗含时间之叹：补衣之景既不可复，则逝者之不可追、旧日之不可返，尽在其中。以一字写尽「此情可待成追忆」的怅惘，与「空」字相映，平字见奇，是悼亡词炼字的典范。