Yan Fei Ancient Style Poetry: The Literary World's Qiong Yao's Resignation

Editor's Note from "Writers Network":Today (December 4th) marks the one-year anniversary of the passing of legendary literary figure and novelist Chiung Yao. Writer Yan Fei has sent a scroll titled "Chiung Yao's Farewell to the Literary World" as a tribute, infusing emotion into poetry with profound strokes. This work, in the same vein as his representative ancient-style long poems "Farewell to Four Talented Classmates" and "Farewell to Dawn's Radiance in the Red Chamber," can be considered "Yan Fei's Ancient Poetry Trilogy of Legendary Women," continuing the life stories of outstanding modern and contemporary women with classical poetic charm.

The special issue is now published with Yan Fei's ancient-style long poem, "Literary World's Qiong Yao Dictionary." We humbly offer this literary tribute to Qiong Yao's timeless emotional narratives and cultural legacy.

 

Yan Fei Ancient Style Poetry: The Literary World's Qiong Yao's Resignation

 

Author: Yan Fei

 

Amidst clouds adorned with vibrant hues, returning from the radiant sky, I seek a mentor in the literary world, searching for a pure, guiding light.

Jade melodies pierce the clouds, Suddenly, I feel the spring breeze accompanying the swallows.

This morning, a lifetime ago, I remember, at the turn of the century, flying to Taipei.

Countless memories flow away like water, only the songs linger around the green peaks.

 

Born in literature by the Jialing River, renowned on both sides of the strait.

My brush can summon rain from three mountains, my scroll can shield from the sun of five peaks.

The Isle of Taiwan's misty glow arises from within the wrist, the clouds and waters of Xiaoxiang unfurl like a rainbow.

Sixty springs have studied the ice dew, and a hundred works of pearls adorn the brocade screen.

 

Parting and gathering leave a thousand knots in the heart; Suddenly, a cuckoo's call is heard outside the window.

Misty rain fills the sky and clouds, a deep courtyard shrouded in mist.

The plum blossoms by the water, the colorful clouds easily scatter, the pearl dream returns.

Several sunsets dyed red, a curtain of dreams chasing butterfly shadows.

 

The film and television industry shines like a bright star factory, the silver screen's brilliance illuminates the grand hall.

There's also the beauty of a cloudy moon chasing clouds, and the sorrow of love in the Qin and Han dynasties.

There are also virtues and elegance that bring tears to the eyes, and there is also the brilliance of snow that shines brightly.

There have been several "Little Swallows," all nurtured and grown under the grace of Chiung Yao.

 

Xin Tao's sharp eyes recognize the exquisite ornaments, Qiong Yao's painstaking efforts transform them into treasures.

Although the magistrate is married, his debts of love are difficult to repay.

Thirty-eight years of married bliss, how can one bear to grow old apart?

The hospital room remains, yet our three-life vow endures. The wheelchair sits empty, my heart churning with a thousand regrets.

 

In my twilight years, we suddenly part like estranged swallows, and the whole world sighs that the night is not yet over.

Even if books were piled as high as your body, it's hard to paint the old sunset in your heart.

The Treasure Island, together and apart, we linger, Love's heavens and hate's seas, hopelessly vast.

Legends are made every year in this world, and every year the cuckoo cries in Xiaoxiang.

 

Wild geese cry in the vast sky, real and illusory, The boat crosses the wild ferry, how many times has it turned.

His calligraphy wins the praise of celestial maidens, his writings seem to echo the beauty of the Luo River goddess.

I continue the heart-wrenching verses of Dream of the Red Chamber, and I complete the blood-soaked writings of The Romance of the Western Chamber.

Suddenly, streaks of light shot towards the stars, and I, having known a person of great talent, embraced them.

 

Do you not see?

In the ocean of literature, we ferry souls lost in passion, Gathering spirit and grace, we knock on heaven's gate.

A thousand veils of tears soak a thousand autumn rains, ten thousand scrolls of souls vanish, heard through ten thousand ages.

The smoke and mist beneath the brush will never dissipate, Circling Kunlun for a thousand autumns and ten thousand generations.

A talented woman recorded in history; who in the world doesn't know you!

 

跋

 

A snowy night in Toronto, my fingertips brushed against the worn, gold-embossed letters on the book spine, recalling a spring day years ago, singing "The Water Side" with Aunt Qiong Yao over the phone.

At the turn of the century, as a young writer, I traveled to Taiwan with my greatest wish being to meet Chiung Yao. I didn't get to meet her in person, but after several attempts, I managed to get through to her on the phone. Hearing her gentle voice, as soft as warm jade, instantly brought back all the youthful years nurtured by “Outside the Window” and "Smoke and Rain." I spoke clumsily, and she listened patiently. The momentary unfamiliarity I felt when mentioning my own works was gently embraced by her words, "Whether dreaming or not, each life is a poem." Moved, I sang "On the Water" into the phone, and her voice softly joined in, completing a duet across the Taiwan Strait.

Years later, on a winter night in a foreign land thousands of miles away, these memories solidified into text. The day before yesterday, I wrote an essay titled "Singing 'Beyond the Water' with Chiung Yao." Today, still feeling inspired, my poetic muse ignited, I dipped my brush in ink and wrote this long poem, "Chiung Yao of the Literary World." Using the ancient rhythm and rhyme of Tang poetry, I recall the glory and brilliance of Aunt Chiung Yao, the great writer of romance. These classical tonal patterns and imagery are not only a pursuit of a writer's literary footsteps but also the most solemn echo of that spring afternoon. As the singing from the phone line drifts away, new moonlight will rise over the reeds and shores between the lines of poetry.

December 4, 2025, Thin Swallow Studio, Toronto.

Author Biography:Yan Fei, a contemporary writer and poet, also known as Yan Daxia. Currently residing in Toronto and serving as the president of the Canadian Chinese Writers Association. He has published over a million words of literary works, including novels, poetry, and essays, in literary magazines such as "Chinese Writers," "People's Literature," and "Tianya." He has also published a full-length work in "October." He has served as an editor at a publishing house, editor-in-chief of a special zone newspaper's supplement section, assistant editor-in-chief of Hainan Youth Daily, and deputy editor-in-chief and executive editor of the literary magazine "Yecheng" of the Haikou Municipal Federation of Literary and Art Circles. His published works include the Hainan Dream Trilogy, "Hainan No Dreams," "Hainan Startled Dreams," and "Hainan Seeking Dreams"; the novel "The Calamity: A Woman's Glory and Shame"; the documentary literature "Glory and Sin"; and the essay collection "Yan Fei's Dream Talk." His literary works were immensely popular in the mid-1990s and have won provincial and ministerial literary awards. The Yan Fei Hainan Dream Trilogy, represented by "Hainan No Dreams," was a national bestseller and became a landmark literary work during the period of Hainan Province's large-scale development. In recent years, he has been writing classical-style poetry, with his representative works "Ode to Four Beauties of My Classmates" and "Ode to Morning Dawn in the Red Chamber" receiving critical acclaim from the literary community.

(Originally published on Writers' Net on December 6, 2025)