Chapter Fourteen: The Winter Solstice and Year's End in Literature -- From the Book of Songs to the Songs of Chu

I. Year-End Retreat in the Book of Songs, "Seventh Month" of the Airs of Bin

The Book of Songs (Shijing) does not use the name "Winter Solstice" (the systematic naming of solar terms postdates the Shijing), but its depictions of winter and year's end are pervaded by the Winter Solstice atmosphere of withdrawal, depth, and the year drawing to a close.

"Seventh Month" (Qi Yue), from the Airs of Bin, is a long poem describing a year's agricultural work and phenology, with especially vivid depictions of winter: "In the days of the first month, the wind blows fierce; in the days of the second month, the cold cuts sharp. Without coat or rough garment, how shall one survive the year$33... In the ninth month, frost descends; in the tenth month, the threshing floor is swept. With paired flagons of wine, they feast; 'Kill the lambs!' they say. They ascend the public hall, raise the rhinoceros-horn cups: 'May you live ten thousand years without end!'"

"In the days of the first month, the wind blows fierce" -- the eleventh month (in the Zhou calendar's first month, the Xia calendar's eleventh month, the very month of the Winter Solstice) brings howling winds. This is the bitter cold around the Winter Solstice. But at the poem's end, the tone shifts: the year-end agricultural work is done, the threshing floor swept clean, wine and lamb prepared, cups raised in the public hall with the toast "ten thousand years without end." This is the celebration and prayer that follow year-end withdrawal -- echoing the Winter Solstice tradition of "celebrating winter."

II. "The Days and Months Slip Away": The Sense of Time in the Book of Songs

In "The Cricket" (Xishuai), from the Airs of Tang, we find a deep meditation on the passage of time at year's end: "The cricket is in the hall; the year is drawing to its close. If I do not take joy now, the days and months will slip away. But do not go to excess in ease; think always of your duties. Love pleasure without neglect; the good officer is watchful still."

This poem expresses, at the close of the year, a profoundly wise temporal consciousness -- both cherishing the passage of time ("the days and months slip away") and warning against indulgence ("do not go to excess"), all while holding fast to duty ("think of your duties"). This grave and wakeful attitude toward life at year's end is the poetic expression of the Winter Solstice spirit of "ending and beginning anew, reflecting and renewing."

III. The Lament of Late Days in the Songs of Chu

If the sense of year's end in the Book of Songs is still plain and unadorned, then in the Songs of Chu (Chuci), the imagery of year's end and advancing age in the brush of Master Qu (Qu Yuan) achieves a dimension both profound and resplendent.

In the Encountering Sorrow (Lisao), Master Qu repeatedly expresses his deep concern over the passage of time and the approach of year's end: "The sun and moon do not tarry; spring and autumn succeed each other in their course. Seeing the grasses and trees withering and falling, I fear lest the beautiful one grow old." The imagery of "grasses and trees withering" and "the beautiful one growing old" is the projection, in the poet's heart, of the year-end (the deep winter of the Winter Solstice) when all things wither and life advances toward its twilight.

IV. The Deeper Meaning of Year-End Literature: Contemplating Life Amid Withering

Why do year's end and winter days, from the Book of Songs to the Songs of Chu, invariably provoke such deep sighs from poets$1

Because year's end (around the Winter Solstice) is the year's extreme, the moment of all things returning to latency, most readily prompting fundamental reflection on "time," "life," and "beginning and ending." But notably, Chinese literature of year's end does not stop at lamentation. In "Seventh Month," year-end withdrawal is followed by celebratory feasting ("ten thousand years without end"); in "The Cricket," year-end feeling leads to a commitment to duty ("think of your duties"). This spirit of "contemplating life amid withering, pressing forward even at year's end" subtly accords with the Winter Solstice philosophy of "the return of first yang" -- though year's end brings withering, within withering, new life is already gestating; though the twilight of age is sorrowful, after sorrow one must still persevere, still move forward.