What does "the willow wind that brushes the face without chill" mean?
Willow is a general term for a group of plants such as dry willow, glandular willow, weeping willow, and Chinese wingnut. In spring, the willow is the most charming and most “elegant” of trees, and it has also been one of the subjects endlessly praised by poets and writers over thousands of years, such as “the willow wind that brushes the face without chill” and “who cut the slender leaves, the second-month spring wind is like scissors” and other famous lines through the ages. Below, let us take a look together at what "the willow wind that brushes the face without chill" means!
Original text of "the willow wind that brushes the face without chill"
In the shade of ancient trees I moored the short-canopied boat, a pigweed staff supported me as I crossed east of the bridge. The apricot blossom rain is about to damp my clothes, the willow wind that brushes the face is without chill.
Translation of "the willow wind that brushes the face without chill"
(I) tied the small boat in the deep shade of towering ancient trees, and a staff made of pigweed supported me as I walked to the east of the bridge. The misty drizzle of the apricot blossom season dampened my clothes, and the wind that stirred the willows as it came toward me blew gently on my face without the slightest chill.
Meaning of "the willow wind that brushes the face without chill"
This exquisitely beautiful little poem mainly describes the pleasure of the poet's spring outing with a staff in a gentle breeze and fine rain. Although he is out on a spring outing with a staff, he says “the pigweed staff supports me,” which personifies the pigweed staff, as if it were a companion he could rely on. The scenery east of the bridge and west of the bridge may not differ greatly, but for the poet on a spring outing, going east or west makes the mood and charm quite different.
“Apricot blossom rain” is the rain of early spring, and “willow wind” is the wind of early spring. Put this way, it has more beauty and more pictorial quality than “fine rain” and “gentle breeze.” Willow branches ripple with the wind, giving people the impression that the spring wind arises from the willows. Calling the rain of early spring “apricot blossom rain” is exactly the same principle as calling the rain of early summer “yellow plum rain.” “In the small tower, all night hearing spring rain, in the deep lane, at dawn, selling apricot blossoms”: the great poet Lu You in the early years of the Southern Song had already linked apricot blossoms and spring rain.
“About to damp the clothes” uses clothes seeming damp yet not damp to describe the early spring fine rain as seeming to exist yet not exist, which shows even more the subtlety of observation and the fineness of depiction. Imagine the poet walking east with his staff, all the way red apricot blossoms glowing and green willows fluttering, fine rain touching his clothes, seeming damp but not visibly damp, and a gentle breeze blowing toward his face without the least bit of chill. What a patient and delightful spring day outing this is!
Some people cannot help but think: if the old monk walks on so cheerfully and keeps enjoying the scenery, by the time he remembers that he ought to return, he may be too weak physically, and even the pigweed staff may no longer be able to support him, right? There is no need to worry. The first line of the poem says “in the shade of ancient trees I moored the short-canopied boat.” Is not the short canopy a small boat? The old monk originally came along the stream by small boat, and that small boat was moored by the old tree at the edge of the stream, just waiting for him to untie the rope and return to the temple. When the monk reached the old tree and felt the rain, he put on a small straw hat and continued across the bridge to enjoy the beautiful scenery ahead in the fine rain.