Su Shi’s Lifetime Merits and Writings in Adversity: On the Cause of Su Shi’s Poetic Resonance with Tao Yuanming and His Late-Year State of Mind

Liu Qiang

Abstract： This paper examines Su Shis “Self-Inscription of the Portrait in Jinshan Temple，” his three texts on the Confucian classics， his poems in resonance with Tao Yuanming， as well as his state of mind in later years. After being banished from the court， Su Shis writings in adversity were mainly about the Confucian classics and literary creation， intended to pay tribute to sages and worthies， fashion his personality， overcome his misfortunes， and transcend the political system， ultimately aiming at self-redemption and the completion of his own literary style and personality. Su venerated two persons in his life： Confucius and Tao Yuanming. His three texts on the Confucian classics were composed in deference to the sage Confucius， and he spent nearly ten years composing more than a hundred poems in resonance with Tao Yuanming， intending to emulate Tao， a worthy man. In this sense， Su Shis lifetime merits were focused on personality. His detachment from and defiance of worldly fame and political honor reflects the sagely commitments that cohered throughout his life. Especially when negotiating his way through the late-year adversities， he consciously isolated himself from the powerful political forces. Otherwise， he subscribed to the Confucian orthodoxy， that is， a path from outer kingliness to inner sageliness. Su Shis behavior in his last days shows that， despite being well-versed in Buddhism and Daoism， he grounded his ideas and personality securely in the Confucian sagely Way.

Keywords： Su Shi， writing in adversity， life-time merits， poems in resonance with Tao Yuanming， late-year state of mind

In his late years， Su Shi 蘇轼 （Su Dongpo 苏东坡， styled Zizhan 子瞻， 1037–1101） suffered repeatedly from ordeals and remained incessantly on his way into exile. Despite not being literally imprisoned， he had a distinctively precarious experience comparable to that of Zhong Yi 钟仪 （fl. 584）， who was from the state of Chu but imprisoned in the state of Jin. The majority of his writings， mainly poems， which established his status as one of the great writers in the Chinese literary history， are the “writings in adversity，” consequent upon the late-year predicaments and traumas around which his lifes blood congealed. The writings in adversity are characterized by the situations and states of mind the poet found himself in， as well as by the styles and artistic realms that correspond to， or even run counter to， his situations and states of mind. As the saying goes， “only the ill clam produces pearls.” The more adversities a writer succumbs to， the more possible it is for him to remove the adversities he encounters in reality， to reverse his situation and state of mind in his writing， thus reaching the culmination of artistic creation and personality fashioning， and arriving at the realm of transformation （huajing 化境）. In the case of Su Shi， without these unprecedented writings in adversity， his spiritual life would not have stood out from the others， the spectacle of his personality would not have exceeded the confines of his time， and his literary style would not have attained excellence.

Todays knowledge about Su Shi has gone through many versions and mostly turned out to be hearsay. His suffering during his life can be studied through checking a variety of historical texts， but the twists and turns he suffered in his late-year state of mind and realm of life are yet to be known. In adversities， ordinary people would lose their morale， resign themselves to daily trivialities， and become subject to degeneration. But for Su Shi， it is a different case. He continued to cultivate himself and write in adversity， and he accomplished his self-redemption with words smeared in tears and blood. Nevertheless， is this Su Shi who lived in writings or the spiritual world the same as the Su Shi who lived temporarily in the physical world？ How should we understand the relationship between Su Shis engagement in writing and his engagement in the forging of his personality？ There is a self-evident commonplace that， literally， we can get to know a person through his writings， but the writing and its writer are essentially distinct. Just in this sense， the significance of exploring Su Shis literary achievements through his writings in adversity does not merely lie in literary historiography， but also depends on probing and analysis in the domain of psychic， spiritual， and intellectual history.

Su Shis Sagely Aspirations and His Writings in Adversity

[Refer to page 72 for Chinese. Similarly hereinafter]

As far as the writings in adversity are concerned， Su Shis poem “Self-Inscription of the Portrait in Jinshan Temple” [自題金山画像]， written in 1101， the last year of his life， is particularly significant and worthy of repeated analyses：

My heart is as calm as the ashes of wood;

My body drifts away like an untied boat.

What are my lifetime merits？

Nothing but those in Huangzhou， Huizhou， and Danzhou.

This six-character quatrain has almost exposed to the full Su Shis late-year state of mind. It can be read as a poem of history or as a journey of the mind. His merits （gongye 功业） are the key to the whole poem. Su Shi regarded the three places of his banishment as the locus of his “lifetime merits，” as implicitly establishing a subtle irony and an incisive criticism of worldly pursuits， radiant with rhetorically verbal tension and metaphysically interpretive power. In the view of Su Shi， merits are those of personality and life rather than worldly pursuits. If we thumb through the collection of his poems， it can be found that he has implemented the ultimate affirmation， breakthrough， crystallization， and redemption of his personality with his beautiful poetry featuring personal history and poetic biography. He has also mocked greatly the “banishment and exile” （by the court authorities） that imprisoned his body and soul.

Hence， Su Shi should be identified not only in terms of literature but also in terms of humanity and philosophy. Superficially， Su Shis denial of worldly merit seems to have broken through the confines of the Confucian conception of outer kingliness （waiwang 外王）， which identifies the subject in relation to the monarch， and returned to a more independent and free way to define human value， finding his way back to an expansive and firm land away from the cramped and treacherous “temple and court，” the venue of political reign. But an effort to shed the modern bias against Confucianism and map out the orbit of Su Shis conceptual progression would lead to a discovery that his final stronghold is still the Confucian conception of inner sageliness （neisheng 內圣）. Su Shi found himself in the most flourishing days of the Learning of Principle and the Learning of the Way， when the majority of scholar-officials and intellectuals aspired to emulate the sagely， the worthy， and sage-kings such as Yao 尧 and Shun 舜. Su Shi， despite being well-versed in Confucianism， Buddhism， and Daoism， is unparalleled among his contemporaries， or those who came before or after， in his intellectual sophistication. But he devoted all his life to the “implementation of what he learned” as a great Confucian. He makes no exception for Laozi， Zhuangzi， Yang Zhu 杨朱 （ca. 395–335 BCE）， Mozi， or even for Mencius， Xunzi， and Han Fei 韩非 （ca. 280–233 BCE）， who were all the targets of his sarcasm and denunciation. No one except Confucius is beyond his range， for no word of his ridicule ever fell upon Confucius. It can be said that， in the recesses of Su Shis heart， the place of the mastermind was exclusively reserved for the Confucian sage. The Way （dao 道） of the sage is the ultimate value he hurried toward. Without a firmly secured sagely aspiration， there would have not been writings in adversity.

From this perspective， the genres of his writings in adversity are more than poems， lyrics， vignettes， and rhymed prose. The three texts on the Confucian classics he successively composed during his banishment in the three prefectures may account for the lions share in the summation of his lifetime merits. Su Shis “exclusive engagement in the classics” and his determination to “achieve something” are attributed to his lofty reverence for the classics， and it can also be understood as a respect paid far back in time to Confucius. During his banishment in Huizhou， he wrote， “The writings when read by the author in his later years are mostly regrettable. I often feel sorry for the works of my young age. If I had established viewpoints of my own， I would not have regretted them.” Here， “to establish viewpoints of my own” does not at all refer to attainments in poetry， but rather to those in the study of the Confucian classics， masters， and philosophers. Su Zhe 苏辙 （styled Ziyou 子由， 1039–1112） wrote the epitaph for Su Shi as follows：

In our deceased fathers late years， he read the Book of Changes， played with its hexagrams and images， and then was enlightened by feelings of firmness， softness， distance， nearness， joy， anger， resistance， and submission. Reading his words would lead to a sudden understanding of all the above like a sharp blade cutting through an object. Later， he got critically ill， leaving a commentary on the Book of Changes unfinished， and then asked you to continue his work. You accepted the work in tears and brought it into the form of a book. The subtle words composed one millennium ago eventually came to the understanding of contemporary people. You again composed an interpretive text of the Analects， punctually revealing the abstruse points of Confucius. In the end， when living in Hainan in exile， you wrote a commentary on the Book of History， trying to illuminate the unparalleled learning of early antiquity and having achieved what your predecessors have not. With these three texts completed， with your hands on them， you sighed， “If no one in my time puts his trust in them， I am sure the gentlemen （junzi 君子） to come will certainly get to know my intention.”

As can be seen， Su Shi wrote these three texts on the Confucian classics probably as a continuation of his late fathers undertakings， the emulation of Confucius the sage， the illumination of the preceding Confucians， and the anticipation of those to come. His commentaries on the classics were actually intended to promulgate the Way. In this light， Su Shis late-year relinquishment and denial of worldly merit can be understood as a detachment from powerful political forces and a dedication to Confucian orthodoxy， a result of his dedication and adherence to the value of the primordial Confucian Ways priority over power. It is nowhere but here that Su Shis “lifetime merits” lie.

Su Shis Poems in Adversity Echoing Tao Yuanming [74]

In addition to Confucius， Tao Yuanming 陶淵明 （ca. 365–427） acted as another pillar for the personality of Su Shi， and even a literary exemplar. Just as the three texts on the Confucian classics were composed to pay respect to Confucius， the sage， more than a hundred poems were composed by Su Shi in resonance with Tao Yuanming， as a gesture to emulate Tao， the worthy.

Among Su Shis more than 2，700 extant poems， the poems resonating with Tao Yuanming do not account for a large portion， and are not individually superior in quality. But they have developed their own style， labeled “Tao-styled poems” by Su Shi. For Su Shi， the significance of resonating with Tao Yuanming did not lie in the revival of literary or poetic genres， but rather in the emulation and fulfillment of personality and temperament. Associated with the writings in adversity， Su Shis poems in resonance with Tao Yuanming can be justifiably endowed with a higher value and significance. In the exegesis to his poem titled “In Resonance with Tao Yuanming， a Scholar of the East” [和陶东方有一士]， Su Shi said， “This ‘scholar of the east is nobody but Tao Yuanming. Do I not know who traveled in his company？ If I can fulfill this one phase， I am Tao and Tao is me.” The words liaode 了得 （fulfill or attain） and liaoque 了却 （settle or solve） were repeatedly used in Sus three texts on the Confucian classics to indicate something fulfilled. Obviously， Su Shi put the poems in resonance with Tao Yuanming on a par with his commentaries to the classics， assuming that “fulfilling this one phase” would secure the fashioning of his personality， and the poems composed in this phase deserved to be stocked up and passed to the succeeding generations just like the three texts. Hence， the ten-year phase of composing these poems that had been finally fulfilled can be absolutely viewed as Su Shis merits， for which he would not feel sorry even on his deathbed.

To Su Zhe， his younger brother， Su Shi said，

In the old time， poets would compose poems by simulating their precedents， and few attempted to emulate and echo them. The practice of emulating and echoing started with Su Dongpo. Among the poets far back in time， Tao Yuanming is my sole favorite. Taos poems are plain but still gorgeous， simplistic but still substantial. . . . Over time， I resonated with his poems by composing one hundred and nine pieces. I think I have come by his meaning and there are few that I regret. Now I gather them into a collection， trying to pass it down to the future gentlemen. This is what I have intended. But Tao Yuanming indeed matters so much to me， for his poems are exclusively my favorites. By reading his poems， I can literally get to know his mind. On his deathbed， Tao wrote a letter to his sons， telling them： “I was poor as a child. Poverty drove me out of my home to wander about. I am obstinate in character and short of talent. I have developed an antipathy toward the outside world. Considering my personality， I must have left behind anothers hatred. So I was bent on resigning from my official position. In consequence， you， my children， suffer from a shortage of food and clothes.” What Tao Yuanming said here is supposed to be a real record of his life. It was a long time before I came to be aware that I also have similar ailments. I have been in office for half of my life， and have been attacked and detested. That is why I deeply admire Tao Yuanming and intend to emulate him， even if only a shred of him.

This text is quite important for us to understand Su Shis poetics and his late-year state of mind. The first half of it discusses poetry， representing his confidence in the value of all his poems in resonance with Tao Yuanming. But what most deserves attention is that Su Shi liked Taos charisma of personality rather than his poems. Long immersed in Confucianism， Su Shi had claimed literary writing to be inseparable from personality cultivation， and the perfection of personality to be prioritized over the fashioning of literary identity. Hence， he not only pursued originality in literary genres， but more than that， the fulfillment of personality. The second half of this text focuses on Tao Yuanmings personality， especially when he wrote， “But Tao Yuanming indeed matters so much to me， for his poems are exclusively my favorites. By reading his poems， I can literally get to know his mind.” This citation arguably indicates the change in Su Shis state of mind in his old age： the cultivation of personality had achieved an overpowering priority over literary writing. Su Shi incisively realized that the key to Tao Yuanming being Tao Yuanming was his consummate fulfillment of personality cultivation， while Su was still on his way to it.

To his great pity， Su Shi found that Su Zhe， his brother， who he embraced as his soul mate， was at a loss about the enlightenment he obtained in his ordeal-saturated old age. Su Zhe had repeatedly misread the resonant poems in his article titled “Introduction to Su Dongpos Poems Resonating with Tao Yuanming” [東坡先生和陶渊明诗引]， so much so that Su Shi had to revise it. This is demonstrated by Fei Guns 费衮 （fl. 1192） “Su Dongpos Revisions of the Introduction to Poems Resonating with Tao Yuanming” [东坡改和陶集引]：

Su Dongpo had composed an array of poems in resonance with Tao Yuanming， and mailed it to Su Zhe， asking him to write an introduction to it. Su Zhe finished a manuscript and had it sent to Su Dongpo. In the manuscript， following the statement that “[Su Shi] intended to emulate Tao [Yuanming]， even if only a shred of him，” Su Zhe continued， “Alas！ Tao Yuanming lived in seclusion to pursue his intents， to sing songs to forget aging， to attain with sincerity what the paragons in the past had achieved， but fell short of talent. Zizhan has been promoted to an attending official and the governor of eight prefectures in succession. His merits in public service are renowned in his time. He is upright and credible. To what a great degree Tao Yuanming is outshone！” . . . Su Dongpo made revisions on it in this way： “Alas！ Tao Yuanming was unwilling to bow his back for five dou of millet （the official salary） and went to implore the petty county officials. But Zizhan has been in officialdom for more than thirty years， during which he was tortured by his jailers. In the end， he could not be reformed and thus brought great misfortunes upon himself. Henceforth， when it comes to the rest of his years， he tries to prop himself up on Tao Yuanming. Who would believe him？ Nevertheless， Zizhans experiences in officialdom can be authenticated. Later gentlemen can learn lessons from them.”

The revisions made by Su Shi are nothing less than an apotheosis. Su Zhe loved his brother so much so that he praised him at the cost of Tao Yuanming. But this act fell short of being confirmed by Su Shi and was replaced by the words in line with his own construal of Taos image. As implied in Su Shis revisions， how could Tao Yuanming be inferior in talent？ It was no one but people like Su Shi who fixated on their aspiration for the status of sage-kings like Yao and Shun and ended up in banishment， shorn of freedom， both physically and spiritually. Even if they could have been promoted to generals and ministers， what about them was worthy of mention？

It seems that the poem “Self-Inscription of the Portrait in Jinshan Temple” already contains the insinuation that Su Shi was likely to explicate his own merits with this poem. To take a step further， Su Shi tried to use Huangzhou， Huizhou， and Danzhou， the three prefectures he had been banished to in succession， to cover and replace the “eight prefectures” flaunted by Su Zhe， and meanwhile， to announce his ownership of the meaningful remark he inserted into Su Zhes article. If this were not the case， Tao Yuanming， Su Shis avatar or alter-ego of his “previous life，” would have failed to seamlessly align with the Su Shi of the “present life，” and to allow the latter to achieve the fulfillment of his personality.

The Value of Su Shis Beginning His Resonance with Tao Yuanming While Holding Office in Yangzhou [76]

As the landmark of the fulfillment of Su Shis personality， the poems in resonance with Tao Yuanming can be regarded as a constituent part of his merits. Correspondingly， as the place where he started to commit these poems to paper， Yangzhou， in addition to the three prefectures he had been banished to， arguably occupies a position in his writings in adversity. When being banished to Huizhou， Su Shi composed “The Sixth among the Six Poems in Resonance with Tao Yuanmings ‘Returning to the Garden and Living in the Field” [和陶归园田居六首其六]， in which he reminisced about his office in Yangzhou， lamented his “failure to attain the charisma of Tao Yuanming，” and could only resort to reciting Tao Yuanmings “Twenty Poems Titled ‘Drinking Wine” [《饮酒》二十首] to relieve himself of his worries and pent-up feelings. According to this， Su Shi began to resonate with Tao Yuanming in 1092 when he took office in Yangzhou. It was not until several years later， when he moved to Huizhou and found his situation and state of mind much closer to that in Taos poems， that Su Shi decided to echo Taos twenty poems. In this sense， Yangzhou could also be counted as a place of merit for Su Shi， where he suffered adversities only second to the three prefectures， he was banished to.

Throughout his life， Su Shi visited Yangzhou no less than ten times. He would write verses for almost every visit. In 1092， Su Shi received an imperial edict asking him to relocate from Yingzhou to Yunzhou and finally to Yangzhou， where he took the office of governor. In the poem titled “Sending My Friend Zhishangren to Tour Around Lu Mountain” [送芝上人游廬山]， he said， “Within two years I have already been in office for three prefectures; / I did not cherish opportunities.” When he started the term as governor for Yangzhou， Su Shi was already fifty-seven years old. This is his longest stay in Yangzhou， nearly six months. It can be imagined that his then mood was complex and subtle， alternating between joy and worry. Hence， his letter to one of his friends peppered with expressions like “becoming senile and sick more and more seriously from day to day” and “getting more sick with aging，” although he said that “I moved to Yangzhou luckily.” At the moment of “being senile and sick” and being in worries and adversities， Tao Yuanming， his alter-ego， who had dwelt in the recesses of his mind dating back to his banishment to Huangzhou， revived—and thus the collection of poems “Resonance with Tao Yuanmings Twenty Poems Titled ‘Drinking Wine” [和陶《饮酒》二十首] was composed.

The best antidote to senility and sickness， and worries and adversities， is nothing but poetry and wine. What Su Shi loved best was poetry. But since he suffered seriously from his involvement in the Wutai Poetry Incident （1079）， he had already put himself on alert against composing poetry in Huangzhou. When he arrived in Yangzhou， however， senility and sickness forced him to remove the caution against poetry to relieve himself of his pent-up feelings. Su Shi also loved wine even more than poetry. Moreover， for a poet who was physically delicate in childhood， drinking wine was not for recreation but for healing. In the brief preface to the “Resonance with Tao Yuanmings Twenty Poems Titled ‘Drinking Wine，” he said，

I drink as little as possible， and merely take pleasure in holding the cup in my hand. I usually droop into sleep in my chair. Some others suppose that I am drunk. But I know I am not. Perhaps it is hard to figure out if I am drunk or sober. When in Yangzhou， I did not drink after noon. When guests departed， I would remove my clothes and sit with legs crisscrossed. I was more contented than joyful. Then I poetically resonated with Tao Yuanmings “Twenty Poems Titled ‘Drinking Wine.”

Senility occasioned sickness， sickness occasioned drinking wine， and drinking wine occasioned poetry. This tells us that Su Shis poetic resonance with Tao Yuanming superficially involved his love for drinking. Drinking as the cure for his sickness had already commenced in Huangzhou， long before his term of office in Yangzhou. Why did he only start resonating with Tao Yuanming in Yangzhou？ The answer to this question can be roughly found in a letter to one of his friends： “My life in officialdom is unstable. Luckily， I encountered you， a gentleman. But I had to depart from you. You can imagine how deeply lost I would feel. . . . I am too lazy to poeticize， and have no one to poetically resonate with.” Here， Su Shis pathos for his unstable life in officialdom has edged more and more closely to the state of mind of Tao Yuanmings senility. He had no one else but a poet far back in time to resonate with and relieve himself of his pent-up feelings. Among an array of the poets in the past or as his contemporaries， it is no one but Tao Yuanming who has the highest degree of affinity in disposition with Su Shi. Of more than one hundred poems in resonance with Tao， each one was familiar by heart to Su Shi. But in terms of the immediacy of the resonance， the priority goes to the “Twenty Poems Titled ‘Drinking Wine.”

To sum up， in the eyes of Su Shi， his lifetime merits include not only the three texts on the Confucian classics completed in his banishment to the three prefectures， but also justifiably more than one hundred poems in resonance with Tao Yuanming， which he conceived in Huangzhou， started in Yangzhou， continued in Huizhou， and finally fulfilled in Danzhou. Perhaps far from being expected by Su Shi himself， an impulse that struck him in Yangzhou furnished him with the attainment of his lifetime merits. At the same time， it exponentially increased the value of Tao Yuanmings poems， resulting in the revision of nearly half of the history of Chinese poetry.

The Fulfillment of Su Shis Literary Style and the Redemption of His Personality [78]

Su Shis resonance with Tao Yuanming is not confined merely to simulating Tao， but is particularly grounded in its own way. In “Asking Tao Yuanming” [問渊明]， he wrote， “I resigned myself to fate when worrying about life; / the worries are gone but life is also shortening. / I ride the waves in the great transformation， / and get entangled in it. / I must leave nothing behind， to the point of exhaustion; / I prefer not to say these words again.” Su Shis annotations for it read， “Some people would say， ‘This poem by Su Dongpo may run counter to Tao Yuanmings mind. This is a misunderstanding of my words. I cited Tao to tread the same Way with him， not to run counter to him.” The exposition of his own intentions in light of Tao Yuanming underscores the very value of his poems resonating with Tao.

Still， the writings in adversity also include discourses on policy and petitions to the throne which he was most skilled at writing， in addition to the three texts on the Confucian classics and the poems resonating with Tao Yuanming. Reading the eight petitions to the throne Su Shi wrote in Yangzhou can reveal to us the great power and the mutual illumination of literary style and personality pattern just as the writings in adversity do. Within merely five months term of office， he spared no efforts， fearing no Heavenly will， to successively write eight petitions to the monarch to make a relief effort for the sake of the stricken people. Among the petitions， two are concerned with arrears in Yangzhou， intertextually alluding to the concern over “arrears” in his poems resonating with Tao Yuanmings “Twenty Poems Titled ‘Drinking Wine，” partly imbuing the poems originally intended to relieve his mind by drinking with the value of the poetry of history. In “The Epitaph in a Collection of Luan City” [栾城集墓志铭] as cited before， Su Zhe commented on Su Shi in this way：

Your poems were similar to those of Li Bai 李白 （701–762） and Du Fu 杜甫 （712–770）. In your late years， you emulated and echoed Tao Yuanming， resulting in four volumes of poems in resonance. . . . Among the people， you praise those who seem good for fear of not saying enough， scold those who seem bad for fear of not exhausting your words， and you point out those who perform brave deeds without a second thought regardless of harm. . . . Confucius labeled Boyi 伯夷 （fl. 1046 BCE） and Shuqi 叔齊 the worthies of antiquity， saying， “If you seek for benevolence （ren 仁） and come by it， what complaints do you have？” You indeed have these dispositions.

Su Zhe compared his brother to the benevolent and worthy in antiquity， as Su Shi both arguably and justifiably deserved to be ranked with them. In “A Petition for Retirement” [乞致仕状]， Su Shi wrote，

Now I have arrived in Changzhou， stricken with hundreds of illnesses and swelling throughout my limbs. I have not taken in food for being consumed and spitting blood for more than twenty days. I am sure I will die soon. I am sixty-six years old now and repent of nothing if I die. Nonetheless， even grasses， woods， and insects cherish life and are reluctant to depart from Your Majestys world as well as Your Majestys favor. If there is any possibility for me to stay longer in the world， I hope to have Your Majestys blessings showering upon me to particularly permit me to retire as an official of the current rank.

Nevertheless， on his deathbed， Su Shi no longer based his spiritual support on the monarch. Rather， he took the redemption of his personality and the ultimate attainment of a free spirit as his greatest aspiration. In other words， at the end of his life， what the poet cared most about was absolutely not the fame during or after his life， but how to return from a mere name to something real， from what is for the sake of others to what is for the sake of oneself， and from the outer kingliness to the inner sageliness. In this sense， Su Shi managed to establish a value in contrast to or even contrary to the enshrinement of the “temple or court” authorities， that is， to replace the pursuit of worldly fame and official credit by rank entitlement and rehabilitation with self-affirmation and a rebirth like the rise of the phoenix from the ashes. In the words of Mencius， it is to substitute a Heavenly title for a human title. It follows that Su Shis banishment to the three prefectures by the authorities turned out to be the lifetime merits that he held most dear. Furthermore， despite being well-versed in Buddhism and Daoism， Su Shi grounded his ideas and personality securely to the Confucian sagely Way. If his writings in Huangzhou， Huizhou， Danzhou， and even in Yangzhou， had facilitated the self-fulfillment of his literary achievements， his “A Petition for Retirement” composed on his deathbed was to fulfill the redemption of his personality cultivation. At this moment， the man， under the name of Su Shi， could close his eyes with no repentance， for he had arrived at the realm of freedom.

Translated by Liu Huawen