Scenic Updates
Tracing Roots in Hongtong
2026-03-12
Tracing Roots in Hongtong
Shandong Wang Donglin
Have you not seen the Fen River’s waters rushing, winding around the ancient city, while thousand-year-old trees stand tall in the cloud‑filled courtyard?
Have you not seen the stork, with three circling flights, rise from the boughs, while beneath the leaves, hidden still, are the sounds of tears yet unshed?
How can one bear the tumultuous winds of the Hongwu era, when millions of common folk are torn from their native counties? Along the ancient roads, dust and smoke obscure the sun, shrouding the world in gloom; the cry of the partridge shatters the fading glow of the setting sun.
Wandering far from my village, my heart is heavy with parting; the summons of the official messengers comes like tigers and wolves. At the latrine, ropes bind my wrists; beyond the tea‑house and the post station, wild geese fly in orderly ranks.
In Youyan, snow falls lightly on the horse’s hooves; along the Jianghuai, fine rain mingles with the clear song of oars. In Dian and Qian, where miasmas once weighed heavy, new lands are tilled; in Long and Shu, where lofty mountains rise, ancient fields are once again brought to life.
The eighteen provinces lie scattered in the light, and I must bear to make a foreign land my home. An old man, leaning on his staff, recounts the past, pointing out the winding roots that twist through his nine‑fold heart.
The ancient locust and the bright moon evoke countless memories; its roots bind the nine realms in a shared breath. Six centuries have passed, yet it hangs upon the wall—fragments of tiles remain, and the stele still stands.
The wanderer returns, tears soaking his robe; before the stele, he longs for the voice of home. A handful of warm earth warms his heart, and half a fragment of pottery glazes, bearing the moon’s glow, leads him on his quest.
Before the shrine I stand, my thoughts drift far and faint; the stork’s nest remains, by the white clouds’ edge. Each time I ride the clear breeze upon my mighty wings, I soar straight up to the ninefold heavens.
Now, seeking my roots, I compose this verse; tears of joy stream down my cheeks as if in endless weeping. I only pray that travelers from all corners of the world, when they climb high, will gaze only toward the rosy glow of the evening clouds.
Keywords:
Hongtong Great Locust Tree
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