[Repost] Yu Dafu: Autumn in the Old Capital

It has been nearly a decade since I last experienced the autumn in the northern lands. In the south, every autumn brings to mind the reed flowers at Taoranting, the willow shadows at Diaoyutai, the songs of insects on Xishan, the moonlight over Yuquan, and the bells of Tanzhe Temple. In Beiping, even without going outside, even amidst the crowd in the imperial city, if you rent a dilapidated house to live in, upon waking up in the morning, you can brew a cup of strong tea and sit in the courtyard – there you can see the very high, green sky, and hear the sound of homing pigeons flying under that blue sky. From beneath the locust leaves, counting the faint rays of sunlight that seep through in the east, or gazing at the blue flowers of the trumpet vine (Asarum) nestled among the broken walls, one can naturally sense a strong sense of autumn. Speaking of morning glories, I think blue or white ones are the best, followed by purple-black, with light red being the worst. It would be best to also plant a few sparse, thin, and long autumn grasses beneath the morning glories as a backdrop.

The locust trees in the northern regions are also a decorative element that reminds one of autumn. Those petal-like remnants that are not actually flowers end up covering the ground in the morning. When stepping on it, there is no sound or smell; only a very slight, extremely soft tactile sensation can be felt. After the street sweepers have swept under the tree shadows, the lines left by their brooms on the dusty ground appear delicate and serene; subconsciously, they also evoke a sense of loneliness. The ancient notion that the falling of a ginkgo leaf signals the arrival of autumn can probably be found in such profound places. The weak, fading cries of the autumn cicadas are a true specialty of the northern regions ； Because Beiping is covered with trees everywhere and the houses are low, their singing can be heard from any place. In the south, one has to go to the suburbs or the mountains to be able to hear it. In Beiping, the chirping of these autumn cicadas is just like that of crickets and rats; it’s as if they are household pests kept in every home.

There’s also the autumn rain, the autumn rain in the north – it seems to fall in a more remarkable way than that in the south, more vividly, and more impressively. Under the gray sky, a cool breeze suddenly blew, and it began to rain heavily. After a bout of rain, the clouds gradually moved westward; the sky turned blue again, and the sun appeared once more ； Wearing thick cotton coats or jackets, the idle people in the city would stand under the trees at the end of the bridge, in the shadows after the rain, holding their pipes in their mouths. When they met acquaintances, they would respond to each other in a slow, leisurely tone, with soft sighs: “Ah, it’s really cold now…” “Isn’t it?” With each autumn rain, it gets cooler! ” When Northerners pronounce the character for ‘array’, it often sounds like the character for ‘layer’, with a rhythm of flat-rising-flat-falling. This mispronunciation results in an interesting sound effect.

The fruit trees in the north also present a wonderful sight in autumn. The first is the jujube tree ； In the corners of the house, on top of walls, next to latrines, at the entrance to the kitchen – they will grow there, one plant after another. When these dates, shaped like olives or pigeon eggs, appear in a pale greenish-yellow color among the small, oval-shaped leaves, it is the peak of autumn ； When the jujube leaves fall and the jujubes turn red, the northwestern winds begin to blow. The north becomes a world of dust and dirt; yet during the period around July and August, when the jujubes, persimmons, and grapes are ripe to about 80-90%, it is a time of beautiful autumn in the north – the best days of the year, truly golden days.

Some critics say that Chinese scholars, especially poets, exhibit a strong sense of decadence; as a result, there are particularly many writings in Chinese poetry that praise autumn. But isn’t the same true for foreign poets? Although I haven’t read much foreign poetry, nor do I intend to compile a collection of poems and essays about autumn, if you were to browse through the works of poets from English-speaking, German, French, Italian and other countries, or various anthologies of poetry from different nations, you will surely find many works that praise or lament autumn. In the long pastoral or seasonal poems of various famous poets, the section dealing with autumn is also always included. It is the best-written and most interesting. It is evident that sentient animals and thoughtful humans always experience, when it comes to autumn, profound, distant, stern, and desolate feelings. Not only poets, but even prisoners locked in prison must, come autumn, feel an overwhelming sense of affection they cannot control ； For people, autumn knows no distinction of nationality, let alone differences in race or class However, in China, there is an idiom involving the word \"qiushi\", and textbooks often feature works such as Ouyang Xiu’s \"The Sounds of Autumn\" and Su Dongpo’s \"Ode to the Red Cliff\"; this makes it seem that Chinese scholars have a particularly deep connection with autumn. Yet the true essence of autumn, especially that of China’s autumn, can only be fully experienced in the north.

Autumn in the south certainly has its own unique features, such as the bright moon over the Twenty-Four Bridges, the autumn tides of the Qiantang River, the cool mist over Putuo Mountain, and the withered lotuses in Litchi Bay, yet the colors are not vivid and the impressions they leave are not lasting. Compared to the autumn in the north, it’s like yellow rice wine as opposed to plain liquor, porridge as opposed to steamed buns, perch as opposed to large crabs, and yellow dogs as opposed to camels. In autumn, this autumn in the north, if only it could be retained, I would be willing to give up two-thirds of my life in exchange for just one-third of it. This article is excerpted from \"Collection of Chinese Prose: Yu Dafu’s Prose\"

Yu Dafu (1896–1945), originally named Yu Wen, was from Fuyang, Zhejiang. He was a famous Chinese essayist, novelist, and poet. Yu Dafu’s works are highly autobiographical; he often used his own experiences as themes for his literary creations, expressing his emotions and personality through them. Through straightforward psychological analysis, he created a mood of melancholy and sadness, voiced his resistance to a dark society, and issued an earnest call for his country to become strong. Her representative works include the novels *Sinking*, *A Night Drunk on Spring Breeze*, and *Late Osmanthus*. Its famous prose piece, \"Autumn in the Old Capital,\" has been included in middle school Chinese textbooks. \"Yu Dafu’s Prose\" collects Yu Dafu’s most representative classic prose works; through it, you can gain a better understanding of his artistic style and writing characteristics. It provides modern scholars with a more universal classic text. “The Prose of Yu Dafu” includes topics such as the four seasons in Beiping, the weather in early spring, a lonely spring morning, spring melancholy, rain, the night of the Beginning of Autumn, autumn in the old capital, miscellaneous thoughts on July, August in Hangzhou, the winter scenery in the south of the Yangtze River, festivals in one’s hometown, food, women, and men in Fuzhou, notes on moving house, reflections on one’s residence, accounts of the misty weather in Suzhou, and West Lake in Fuzhou.