宋 Song · 词 Ci lyric
兰陵王
To the Tune of Lanling Wang: Seeing Off Spring in the Bingzi Year
送春去。
春去人间无路。
秋千外、芳草连天，谁遣风沙暗南浦。
依依甚意绪。
漫忆海门飞絮。
乱鸦过，斗转城荒，不见来时试灯处。
春去。
最谁苦。
但箭雁沉边，梁燕无主。
杜鹃声里长门暮。
想玉树凋土，泪盘如露。
咸阳送客屡回顾。
斜日未能度。
春去。
尚来否。
正江令恨别，庾信愁赋。
苏堤尽日风和雨。
叹神游故国，花记前度。
人生流落，顾孺子，共夜雨。
Spring departs, and within the world of men there is no road left.
Beyond the swing, fragrant grasses run to the sky; who sent the wind-borne sand to darken the southern ford?
Some lingering mood holds me — what is this mood?
Vainly I recall the flying catkins by the seaside gate.
Disordered crows sweep past; the Dipper has turned, the city lies waste —
I no longer see the place where, when I came, the trial lanterns were lit.
Spring departs.
Who suffers most of all?
Only the arrow-struck geese sinking beyond the frontier, the swallows on the beams left with no master.
In the cuckoo's cries, dusk settles over the Gate of Everlasting Spring.
I think of the jade tree fallen into the dust, the tear-dish brimming like dew.
At Xianyang, the guests sent away turn to look back again and again.
The slanting sun itself cannot get across.
Spring departs.
Will it ever come again?
It is the hour of Lord Jiang's parting-grief and Lord Yu's sorrow-laden fu.
The Su Causeway is beaten by wind and rain the whole day long.
I sigh: my spirit roams the old capital — the flowers still remember my last visit.
In this drifting life of exile, I can only look to my little child and share the night's rain with him.
Meaning
Liu Chenweng wrote this lyric in 1276, when Yuan armies captured the Southern Song capital of Lin'an. The 'spring' he sees off is not merely the season but the fallen dynasty itself; its departure leaves no road at all in the world of men. Through three repeated cries of 'Spring departs' — despair, unendurable sorrow, and one last hopeless question — he mourns a lost country, its captured court, and its orphaned people. The lyric closes in the smallest scene imaginable: an exiled poet keeping his child company through a night of rain.
送春归去。春归去了，人间已无路可寻。秋千之外，芳草连天，是谁遣那风沙，遮暗了南浦。依依不舍，究竟是什么意绪。漫忆那海门的飞絮。乱鸦飞过，斗转星移，城池荒凉，再也见不到来时试灯的地方。春归去了。最苦的是谁呢。但见箭雁沉于边地，梁燕无主可依。杜鹃声里，长门宫已近暮色。想那玉树凋落于土中，泪盘如露。咸阳送客，屡屡回头顾望。斜日未能度过。春归去了。还会再来吗。正是江令恨别，庾信写愁赋。苏堤整日风雨凄凄。叹神游故国，花还记得前度。人生流落，唯有顾着孩子，共对这夜雨。
Appreciation
[Plain Paraphrase] The lyric bids farewell to spring in three strophes, each opening with the refrain 'Spring departs.' The first mourns a world from which spring has vanished without a trace; the second asks who suffers most — the arrow-struck geese, the masterless swallows; the third asks whether spring will ever return, and ends in a night of rain shared with a child. [Structure] The triple repetition of 'chun qu' (Spring departs) is the backbone of the poem, turning a farewell into a dirge sung in three strophes. The scope narrows at every turn: from 'no road in the world of men,' to a whole city in ruins, to one exiled man and one child in the rain. [Imagery] Every image is doubled: spring means the dynasty, the wild crows and wasted city mean fallen Lin'an, the arrow-geese mean the captured emperors, the masterless swallows mean the people left behind. The 'tear-dish brimming like dew' recalls the bronze immortal of the Han weeping as a capital fell.
【白话串讲】 刘辰翁写《兰陵王》：“送春去。春去人间无路”——“秋千外、芳草连天，谁遣风沙暗南浦”——“乱鸦过，斗转城荒，不见来时试灯处”——“春去。最谁苦”——他写送春与故国之思。 【意象与手法】 上阕以“春去人间无路”写故国之亡，以“乱鸦过，斗转城荒，不见来时试灯处”写临安城破之惨；中阕以“箭雁沉边，梁燕无主”写宋室覆亡、遗民无依；下阕以“江令恨别，庾信愁赋”写哀伤之深；终以“人生流落，顾孺子，共夜雨”的凄凉作结。以“春去”三叠为纲、层层写尽亡国之痛。 【情感与主旨】 刘辰翁写于元兵破临安之际，以送春写亡国之痛，是宋亡之际最沉痛的哀歌之一，与文天祥《正气歌》同为宋末民族气节的绝唱。 【名句点睛】 常考“春去人间无路”以春去无路写亡国之痛；“乱鸦过，斗转城荒，不见来时试灯处”以乱鸦城荒写临安城破。
Background
Liu Chenweng (1233-1297), courtesy name Huimeng, literary name Xuxi, was a native of Luling (modern Ji'an, Jiangxi). A jinshi of the late Song, he refused to serve the Yuan after its conquest and lived in retirement, writing lyrics of loss. He wrote this piece in 1276, the year Yuan forces stormed Lin'an and the Song court was marched north; its alternate title 'Seeing Off Spring in the Bingzi Year' fixes the date. 'Spring' is the Southern Song, and seeing it off is bidding farewell to a dynasty. The lyric was long celebrated as one of the most grievous elegies of the Song collapse, ranking with Wen Tianxiang's Song of Righteousness as a testament of loyalty at a dynasty's end.
此词为宋末词人刘辰翁的名作，题《丙子送春》。丙子年为宋恭帝德祐二年（1276年），这一年元兵攻破临安，南宋都城沦陷，宋室北迁，南宋政权实际灭亡。刘辰翁（1233—1297），字会孟，号须溪，庐陵（今江西吉安）人，宋末元初的爱国词人。他曾中进士，入元后隐居不仕，一生以词写亡国之痛、故国之思。此词作于丙子年临安陷落之后，「送春」即送别故国——春天象征南宋王朝，春去即国亡。词中以三叠「春去」为纲，层层展开：第一叠「春去人间无路」，写故国已亡、人间无路可走的绝望；「乱鸦过，斗转城荒，不见来时试灯处」，写临安城破、试灯处（元宵灯市）已不可见的荒凉。第二叠「春去。最谁苦」，写亡国之痛中最苦之人；「箭雁沉边，梁燕无主」，以箭雁（受伤中箭的雁，喻被俘的宋帝）沉于边地、梁燕（无主之燕，喻遗民）无主，写宋室覆亡、遗民无依；「想玉树凋土，泪盘如露」，以玉树凋落、铜人铅泪写亡国之哀。第三叠「春去。尚来否」，写对故国复归的渺茫之望；「正江令恨别，庾信愁赋」，以江淹《恨赋》《别赋》、庾信《哀江南赋》写哀伤之深；「苏堤尽日风和雨」，以西湖苏堤的风雨写故都的凄凉；「叹神游故国，花记前度」，以神游故国、花记前度写故国之思；「人生流落，顾孺子，共夜雨」，以人生流落、夜雨同愁作结。全词以「春去」三叠为纲，层层写尽亡国之痛，是宋亡之际最沉痛的哀歌之一，也是刘辰翁词「以血泪写国难」的典型。
Art
The lyric's craft lies in its triple-refrain structure and its blood-and-tears diction. Each stanza is launched by 'chun qu,' and each drives the grief one step deeper: the first states that spring's departure leaves no road at all; the second asks who suffers most; the third dares to ask whether spring will ever return, though the poet knows it will not. Images are chosen for their historical weight — the arrow-struck geese (the captured emperors), the masterless swallows (the surviving people), the bronze immortal's tears (the fallen capital). The oblique, crowded rhymes of the Lanling Wang tune press the breath like a knell. Most striking is the final descent from the death of a dynasty to one man, one child, one night of rain.
此词艺术上以「三叠结构」与「血泪之笔」为特色，在送春的框架中写尽亡国之痛。全词以「春去」为纲，三叠而三叹：第一叠「春去人间无路」，以「春去」起笔，「人间无路」四字写尽故国已亡、无路可走的绝望；「秋千外、芳草连天，谁遣风沙暗南浦」，以秋千、芳草写春景之繁盛，而「风沙暗南浦」写其被蒙蔽、被摧残——那「谁遣」之间，暗指元兵的入侵；「乱鸦过，斗转城荒，不见来时试灯处」，以乱鸦、城荒写临安城破之惨，以「不见试灯处」写故都繁华之不可复见。第二叠「春去。最谁苦」，以设问点出亡国之痛；「但箭雁沉边，梁燕无主」，以箭雁沉边写宋帝被掳，以梁燕无主写遗民无依，比喻精切而沉痛；「杜鹃声里长门暮」，以杜鹃啼血、长门暮色写亡国后的荒凉；「想玉树凋土，泪盘如露」，以玉树凋落、铜人铅泪写亡国之哀，「泪盘如露」四字，凄艳而沉痛。第三叠「春去。尚来否」，以「尚来否」写对春（故国）复归的渺茫之望——明知不会再来，却仍忍不住一问，痴情而绝望；「正江令恨别，庾信愁赋」，以江淹《恨赋》《别赋》、庾信《哀江南赋》写哀伤之深——用古人的赋写今人的恨，古今同悲；「苏堤尽日风和雨」，以西湖苏堤的风雨写故都的凄凉，风雨无休，正是亡国之悲的无尽；「叹神游故国，花记前度」，以神游故国、花记前度写故国之思，花犹记前度，人何以堪；「人生流落，顾孺子，共夜雨」，以人生流落、夜雨同愁作结，把亡国之痛落实到一家一身的凄凉。全词三叠而三叹，层层递进，由国而家、由家而身，血泪之笔，令人不忍卒读。
Allusions
The lyric is dense with historical allusion. 'Arrow-struck geese sinking at the frontier' compares the captured Song emperors to wounded geese driven north; 'swallows with no master' echoes the old poem about the swallows of the Wang and Xie mansions flying into commoners' homes. The cuckoo is the transformed soul of the ancient Shu king Du Yu, weeping blood; the 'Gate of Everlasting Spring' was the cold palace of the disgraced Empress Chen. The 'jade tree' praised a house's talented sons, and here their fall means the dynasty's best men perishing; the 'tear-dish' and the Xianyang farewell come from Li He's Song of the Bronze Immortal Leaving the Han, whose tears fell like molten lead as the capital was lost. 'Lord Jiang' is Jiang Yan, author of the fu of Resentment and of Parting; 'Lord Yu' is Yu Xin, author of the Lament for the South. The 'trial lanterns' were the lantern-market displays of the Lin'an New Year festival, now gone.
此词用典密集，皆围绕亡国之痛展开。「箭雁沉边」，以受伤中箭的雁喻被俘北迁的宋帝，暗含「雁」的北飞与宋室的北迁；「梁燕无主」，以梁上无主之燕喻亡国后的遗民，暗合「旧时王谢堂前燕，飞入寻常百姓家」的兴亡之叹。「杜鹃声里长门暮」，用杜鹃啼血与长门宫之典——杜鹃为蜀帝杜宇所化，啼声凄厉如血，长门为汉代冷宫，陈皇后居此失宠，此词以「杜鹃声里长门暮」写故都的荒凉与遗民的哀怨。「玉树凋土」，用「玉树」典出《世说新语》「芝兰玉树」之美称，玉树凋土，喻宋室俊彦零落于土，暗含「玉树后庭花」的亡国之意；「泪盘如露」，用李贺《金铜仙人辞汉歌》「忆君清泪如铅水」之典，金铜仙人被移离汉宫时泪如铅水，后以「铜人铅泪」写亡国之痛。「咸阳送客屡回顾」，正用《金铜仙人辞汉歌》「衰兰送客咸阳道」之意，以咸阳送客写故国之人被送北迁、屡屡回顾的哀痛。「江令恨别，庾信愁赋」，江令指江淹，有《恨赋》《别赋》；庾信有《哀江南赋》，皆为悲悼离乱的名篇，此词以「江令恨别，庾信愁赋」写亡国之哀伤，如江淹之恨别、庾信之哀江南。「试灯」，指元宵前后的试灯之俗，南宋临安元宵灯市极盛，此词「不见来时试灯处」，以元宵灯市之不复见写故都繁华之消逝。这些典故，或写帝北迁、或写遗民无依、或写铜人铅泪、或写哀江南赋，皆围绕亡国之痛这一核心，织成一张血泪交织的情网，正是刘辰翁词「以血泪用典」的特点。
Commentary
Critics have long singled out 'no road within the world of men' as the lyric's center of gravity. Others write about spring to sigh at the passing of a season; Liu Chenweng sees off a dynasty. What makes the ending unforgettable is its sudden smallness: after 'no road,' after geese and swallows and the bronze immortal's tears, the poet simply minds his child through a night of rain. From an empire to one room, one lamp, one rain — the vast grief of national extinction settles into the only warmth a survivor still possesses. It is this union of historical catastrophe and private tenderness that has kept the lyric, in the judgment of later readers, among the most moving elegies in the history of Chinese song.
读此词，最令人震动的是「春去人间无路」这六个字。别人写送春，是伤春惜时；刘辰翁写送春，是送别故国——丙子年，元兵破临安，南宋亡了，那「春」便是故国，春一去，人间便「无路」。不是伤春的惆怅，而是亡国的绝望：故国已亡，遗民何依？连路都没有了。这「人间无路」四字，是整首词的基调，也是南宋遗民集体的绝望之声。而三叠「春去」的结构，更见其哀思的深重：第一叠「春去人间无路」，写亡国的绝望；第二叠「春去。最谁苦」，写亡国中最苦之人；第三叠「春去。尚来否」，写对故国复归的渺茫之望。三叠「春去」，一叠比一叠沉痛——先是无路，再是最苦，最后明知春不会再来，却仍要问「尚来否」，这一问，问得人心碎。最动人处，是词人在一片亡国的血泪之中，忽然落到「人生流落，顾孺子，共夜雨」——国已亡了，天下已换了，词人所能做的，只是守着身边的孩子，共对一夜的风雨。从「人间无路」到「共夜雨」，从国到身，从大到小，正是「国破山河在」的苍凉：家国沦亡之后，唯有这一室一灯、一雨一夜，是遗民仅存的温存。刘辰翁以血泪写国难，此词正是其词中情感最沉痛、结构最精严、用典最深沉的杰作，也是南宋亡国之际最可泣可叹的哀歌。
Prosody
Line by line
春去人间无路。
Spring departs, and within the world of men there is no road left.
春归去了，人间已无路可走。
Spring is gone; in the human world there is no road.
这一句是全词的起笔，也是亡国绝望的总纲。「春去」二字，是此词三叠之首叠的开端，也是全词的基调——别人写送春是伤春惜时，刘辰翁写送春是送别故国，那「春」便是南宋王朝，春一去，故国便亡了；「人间无路」四字，写尽亡国的绝望——故国已亡，遗民何依？连路都没有了。不是「无路可归」的怅惘，而是「人间无路」的彻底绝望：整个天下都已换了主人，遗民在这人间，竟无路可走。以「春去」起笔、以「无路」收束，六个字写尽一个时代的终结。这一句，既是全词情感的总纲，也是南宋遗民集体的绝望之声，其分量之重，远非一般伤春之词可比，是此词立骨的第一笔。
This line is the ci's opening, and the outline of the conquered-land despair. The two words spring gone are the opening of this ci's first stanza, and the ci's tone — others write the seeing-off of spring as spring grief, and Liu Chenweng writes the seeing-off of spring as the seeing-off of the lost country, the spring being the Southern Song house, and with spring gone, the country perished; the four words in the human world there is no road exhaust the conquered-land despair — the country lost, and the loyalist has where to turn? Even the road is gone. Not the wistfulness of no road home, but the total despair of no road in the world: all under heaven has changed masters, and the loyalist in this world has no road to walk. Opening on spring gone and closing on no road, six words exhaust the ending of an age. This line is at once the ci's emotional outline and the loyalists' collective voice, its weight far beyond the ordinary spring-grief ci, the first stroke of the piece's backbone.
箭雁沉边，梁燕无主。
Only the arrow-struck geese sink beyond the frontier; the swallows on the beams are left with no master.
但见那受伤的箭雁沉落于边地，梁上的燕子没有主人可依。
The arrow-smitten goose sinks toward the border; the beam-roosting swallows have no master.
这一句写宋室覆亡、遗民无依，是此词最精切的比喻。「箭雁沉边」，以受伤中箭的雁写被俘北迁的宋帝——那大雁中了箭，无力南飞，只能沉落于边地，正是宋帝被掳北迁、沦落异域的写照；「梁燕无主」，以梁上无主之燕写亡国后的遗民——燕子筑巢梁上，主人已去，燕便无主可依，正是遗民国亡家破、无所依归的写照。一写帝，一写民；一写被俘之痛，一写无依之悲，两句对举，写尽亡国之后君臣百姓的共同命运。以「箭雁」「梁燕」写亡国之痛，比喻精切而沉痛，正是刘辰翁词「以物写痛」的手法，也是此词第二叠「最谁苦」的具体回答——最苦的，正是这沉边的箭雁与无主的梁燕。
This line writes the fall of the Song house and the loyalists' dependence, the ci's most exact metaphor. The arrow-smitten goose sinks toward the border writes the captive-emperor Northern migration through the arrow-hit goose — the goose struck by the arrow, powerless to fly south, sinking toward the border, precisely the portrait of the Song emperor carried off north, fallen in a strange land; the beam-roosting swallows have no master writes the post-conquest loyalists through the masterless swallows on the beam — the swallows nesting on the beam, the master gone, and the swallows with no master to rely on, precisely the portrait of the loyalists' lost country and home, nowhere to turn. One line the emperor, one the people; one the captive's pain, one the dependence' grief, the two lines set side by side, exhausting the common fate of lord and people after the conquest. Writing the conquered-land grief through the arrow goose and the beam swallow, the metaphor exact and grief-stricken, precisely Liu Chenweng's way of writing grief through things, and the concrete answer to the second stanza's who suffers most — the most suffering, precisely this border-sinking arrow goose and this masterless beam swallow.
人生流落，顾孺子，共夜雨。
In this drifting life of exile, I can only look to my little child and share the night's rain with him.
人生流落天涯，唯有顾着孩子，共对这满夜的风雨。
Life is adrift; I watch over my child, sharing this night of rain.
这一句是全词的结穴，也是亡国之痛落实到一室一身的写照。「人生流落」，写亡国之后流落天涯的身世——国已亡了，家已破了，词人流落人间，无所归依；「顾孺子」，写顾着身边的孩子——在国破家亡之后，词人所能做的，只是守着身边的孩子；「共夜雨」，写共对一夜的风雨——这一室一灯、一雨一夜，是遗民仅存的温存。这一结句，由前面的「人间无路」「箭雁沉边」的国之大痛，忽然落到「顾孺子，共夜雨」的家之微温，从国到身，从大到小，正是「国破山河在」的苍凉：天下已换了主人，唯有这身边的幼子、这一夜的雨，是遗民仅有的牵挂。以「共夜雨」收束全词，把亡国之痛沉淀为一家一身的凄凉，余韵悠长，令人久久不能平静，是宋亡词中最动人的结尾之一。
This line is the ci's closing knot, the portrait of the conquered-land grief landing in one room and one body. Life is adrift writes the fate of drifting after the conquest — the country gone, the home broken, the poet adrift in the world, nowhere to turn; I watch over my child writes the watching of the child at hand — after the broken country and home, all the poet can do is keep watch over the child beside him; sharing this night of rain writes the facing of one night's storm — this one room, one lamp, one rain, one night, the loyalists' only remaining warmth. The close turns from the national grief of no road in the world and the border-sinking goose to the home's faint warmth of watching the child and sharing the rain, from the country to the body, from the vast to the small, precisely the bleakness of the country broken and the hills remain: the world has changed masters, and only this child at hand, this night's rain, are the loyalist's only care. Closing the ci on the shared night rain, the conquered-land grief settled into one family's and one body's desolation, the aftertone long, the reading unquiet, one of the most moving closes in the post-conquest ci.
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Jiang Kui's Yangzhou Slow, written after the Jin armies' southward invasions, speaks of 'ten miles of spring breeze, all wild green wheat and barley' and 'the red peonies by the bridge — year after year, for whom do they bloom?' Liu Chenweng writes of 'disordered crows sweep past; the Dipper has turned, the city lies waste' and 'the Su Causeway beaten by wind and rain all day long.' Jiang Kui mourns material ruin — abandoned pools and great trees; Liu Chenweng mourns extinction itself — no road left in the world of men. Read together, they trace the deepening of the 'sorrow for a fallen city' from Jiang Kui's lament for wartime devastation to Liu Chenweng's elegy for a dead dynasty.
姜夔《扬州慢》「过春风十里，尽荠麦青青」「念桥边红药，年年知为谁生」，写金兵南侵后扬州城荒凉破败的景象，是词中写「黍离之悲」的名篇；刘辰翁此词「乱鸦过，斗转城荒，不见来时试灯处」「苏堤尽日风和雨」，同样写故都临安城破后的荒凉。一写战后的扬州，一写亡国后的临安；姜夔之哀是「废池乔木」的物哀，刘辰翁之痛是「春去无路」的国痛。并读两词，可见宋词写故国沦丧的传统从姜夔到刘辰翁的延续，也可见国破家亡之际，词人「黍离之悲」的愈加深重。
满江红·写怀 To the Tune of Man Jianghong: My Feelings (The Whole River Red) 岳飞 · 同为南宋爱国词，一写北伐之志一写亡国之痛，靖康至丙子，家国情怀一脉相承 Both are patriotic lyrics of the Southern Song — one voices the resolve to recover the lost heartland, the other the agony after it is lost forever.Yue Fei's famous lyric cries 'The shame of Jingkang is not yet wiped away; when, oh when, will the minister's hatred be destroyed?' — the trumpet call of a dynasty still fighting. Liu Chenweng, writing decades later after the final collapse of 1276, answers with 'Spring departs; within the world of men there is no road' and 'arrow-struck geese sinking beyond the frontier, swallows on the beams left with no master.' Yue Fei's unquenched hatred became Liu Chenweng's unendurable grief. One is the horn of recovery, the other the knell of extinction; together they mark the whole arc of Southern Song patriotism.
岳飞《满江红》「靖康耻，犹未雪；臣子恨，何时灭」，写收复河山、雪耻报仇的壮志，是南宋爱国词的开篇；刘辰翁此词写丙子亡国，「春去人间无路」「箭雁沉边，梁燕无主」，正是靖康之耻未雪而国已先亡的遗恨。一写欲雪国耻的激昂，一写国耻终未雪而国亡的悲怆；岳飞之词是收复的号角，刘辰翁之词是亡国的挽歌。并读两词，可见南宋一百五十年的国运如何在爱国词中起落，也可见从岳飞到刘辰翁，宋代词人的家国情怀如何在亡国之痛中达到顶点。
虞美人·春花秋月何时了 To the Tune of Yu the Beauty: When Will the Spring Flowers and Autumn Moon End 李煜 · 同为亡国哀歌，一为亡国之君一为亡国之臣，故国之思古今同悲 Both are elegies for a lost dynasty — one by the conquered monarch himself, the other by a loyal subject of the fallen house — sharing the same homesickness across a thousand years.Li Yu, the captive last ruler of Southern Tang, sings 'How can I bear to look back toward my old land in the clear moonlight?' and compares his sorrow to 'a whole river of spring flood.' Liu Chenweng writes 'my spirit roams the old capital — the flowers still remember my last visit' and 'in this drifting life of exile, I can only look to my little child.' Li Yu mourns as the monarch who lost his throne; Liu Chenweng mourns as the subject who lost his country. Li Yu measures sorrow by a river of spring water; Liu Chenweng by a road that no longer exists. Read together, they show the lineage of the 'elegy for a lost dynasty' from the Five Dynasties to the very end of the Song, and how the same grief sounds in the mouths of a king and a loyalist.
李煜《虞美人》「春花秋月何时了，往事知多少」「故国不堪回首月明中」，写亡国之后的故国之思，是词史上写亡国之痛的第一名篇；刘辰翁此词「叹神游故国，花记前度」「人生流落，顾孺子，共夜雨」，同样写亡国后的故国之思与流落之痛。一为亡国之君的自伤，一为亡国之臣的哀叹；李煜以「一江春水」写愁之无尽，刘辰翁以「人间无路」写痛之绝望。并读两词，可见「亡国哀歌」从五代到宋末的传承，也可见不同身份的亡国者在故国之思中的共同悲怆。