Classical Prose
秋声赋
欧阳修
欧阳子方夜读书，闻有声自西南来者，悚然而听之，曰：
“异哉！”
初淅沥以萧飒，忽奔腾而砰湃；
如波涛夜惊，风雨骤至。
其触于物也，鏦鏦铮铮，金铁皆鸣；
又如赴敌之兵，衔枚疾走，不闻号令，但闻人马之行声。
予谓童子：“此何声也？汝出视之。”
童子曰：“星月皎洁，明河在天，四无人声，声在树间。”
予曰：
“噫嘻悲哉！此秋声也，胡为而来哉？
盖夫秋之为状也：
其色惨淡，烟霏云敛；
其容清明，天高日晶；
其气栗冽，砭人肌骨；
其意萧条，山川寂寥。
故其为声也，凄凄切切，呼号愤发。
丰草绿缛而争茂，佳木葱茏而可悦；
草拂之而色变，木遭之而叶脱。
其所以摧败零落者，乃其一气之余烈。
夫秋，刑官也，于时为阴；
又兵象也，于行用金。
是谓天地之义气，常以肃杀而为心。
天之于物，春生秋实。
故其在乐也，商声主西方之音，夷则为七月之律。
商，伤也，物既老而悲伤；
夷，戮也，物过盛而当杀。
嗟乎！
草木无情，有时飘零。
人为动物，惟物之灵。
百忧感其心，万事劳其形。
有动于中，必摇其精。
而况思其力之所不及，忧其智之所不能；
宜其渥然丹者为槁木，黟然黑者为星星。
奈何以非金石之质，欲与草木而争荣？
念谁为之戕贼，亦何恨乎秋声！”
童子莫对，垂头而睡。
但闻四壁虫声唧唧，如助予之叹息。
Translation
Ouyang Zi was reading at night when he heard a sound coming from the southwest. Startled, he listened and said: “How strange!” At first it was pattering and soughing, then suddenly it rushed and roared; like waves startled in the night, like wind and rain arriving all at once. When it struck against things, they rang clangorously, as if metal and iron were all sounding. It was also like soldiers rushing toward the enemy, holding tally-sticks in their mouths, hurrying forward without commands being heard, only the movement of men and horses. I said to the boy servant, “What sound is this? Go out and look.” The boy said, “The stars and moon are bright and pure; the Milky Way is in the sky. There is no human sound anywhere. The sound is among the trees.” I said: “Ah, how sad! This is the sound of autumn. Why has it come? As for the appearance of autumn: its color is bleak and dim; mist scatters and clouds withdraw. Its face is clear and bright; the sky is high and the sun shines crystalline. Its breath is cold and sharp, piercing human skin and bone. Its meaning is desolate; mountains and rivers are empty and still. Therefore its sound is mournful and cutting, crying out and breaking forth in anger. Rich grasses are thickly green and compete in flourishing; fine trees are lush and pleasing. But when the grasses are brushed by autumn, their color changes; when trees encounter it, their leaves fall. What causes them to be broken, defeated, scattered, and dropped is only the remaining force of this single breath. Autumn is the season of the officer of punishment; in the seasons it belongs to yin. It is also an image of war; among the Five Phases it uses metal. This is called the righteous breath of Heaven and Earth, which always takes stern killing as its heart. Heaven’s way with things is to bring them forth in spring and bring them to fruition in autumn. Therefore in music, the shang tone governs the sound of the west, and Yize is the pitch-pipe of the seventh month. Shang means wounding: things have grown old and therefore grieve. Yi means slaughter: when things have passed their fullness, they should be cut down. Alas! Grasses and trees have no feelings, yet at times they drift and fall. Human beings are living creatures, the most spiritual of all things. A hundred worries move the heart; ten thousand affairs weary the body. When something stirs within, it must shake the vital spirit. How much more when one thinks about what strength cannot reach and worries over what wisdom cannot solve. It is only natural that a face once red and moist becomes like withered wood, and hair once dark black becomes speckled white. Why take a body that is not made of metal or stone and try to compete with grasses and trees in flourishing? If we consider who truly harms and destroys us, why should we resent the sound of autumn?” The boy made no reply, lowered his head, and fell asleep. Only the chirping of insects around the four walls could be heard, as if helping my sigh.
Analysis
“Rhapsody on the Sound of Autumn” is one of Ouyang Xiu’s major late prose works. It begins with a sound heard during night reading, but its real subject is not simply autumn. It is aging, anxiety, mental exhaustion, and the human tendency to blame nature for damage caused by one’s own worries. The opening is dramatic and auditory. Ouyang Xiu hears a sound from the southwest and is startled. At first it is thin and soughing; then it becomes rushing and roaring, like waves, wind, and sudden rain. The essay pulls the reader first into sound, not sight. He then compares the sound to metal striking metal and to soldiers rushing silently toward battle. These comparisons are severe. Autumn is not presented as gentle melancholy, but as a hard, martial, destructive force. When the boy goes outside, however, he finds a clear night: bright stars and moon, the Milky Way overhead, no human sound, only sound among the trees. This contrast matters. The world is calm, but the speaker hears terror and sorrow. Autumn sound is both external nature and internal perception. Ouyang then defines autumn through color, appearance, breath, and meaning. Its color is bleak; its appearance is clear; its breath is cuttingly cold; its meaning is desolate. Autumn has beauty, but it is a cold and austere beauty. The grasses and trees flourish in spring and summer, but when autumn touches them, their color changes and leaves fall. Autumn is the power that turns flourishing into decline. This is then explained through traditional cosmology: autumn belongs to yin, to metal, to punishment, to military imagery, and to the west. It is the season of stern completion and cutting down. The musical references to the shang tone and the Yize pitch deepen the association. Shang is linked with wounding; Yi with slaughter. Autumn becomes not merely a season but a total symbolic system of decline, completion, and grief. The central turn comes with “Alas!” Grass and trees are without feeling, yet they still fall. Human beings, however, are the most spiritually sensitive of creatures. They do not simply undergo seasonal change; they are worn down by worries, obligations, thoughts, and unsolved anxieties. “A hundred worries move the heart; ten thousand affairs weary the body” is one of the key lines. Human aging is not only biological. It is intensified by emotional disturbance and worldly labor. When something moves within, it shakes the vital spirit. Ouyang goes further: people think about what their strength cannot reach and worry over what their wisdom cannot solve. This is a sharp psychological insight. Much human suffering comes from attachment to what one cannot control. Thus the red face becomes withered, and black hair becomes speckled white. Autumn may be the occasion for reflection, but it is not the sole cause of decay. The human being helps consume himself. “Why take a body that is not made of metal or stone and try to compete with grasses and trees in flourishing?” This question is the philosophical center of the work. Human life is fragile. To demand unending vigor, success, beauty, or expansion is to deny the nature of the body and time. The conclusion is severe but liberating: if we understand what truly harms us, why resent the sound of autumn? Autumn is not the enemy. The deeper enemy is the anxious, striving, overburdened mind. The ending is quiet and ironic. The boy falls asleep because he is not burdened by the same reflections. Ouyang remains awake, hearing insects around the walls as if they are joining his sigh. The loneliness of late-life awareness is condensed into that final sound. The lasting power of this piece lies in its movement from external sound to inner diagnosis. It is a meditation on the season, but more importantly, it is a clear-eyed analysis of how human beings wear themselves down.
About the Author
Ouyang Xiu, courtesy name Yongshu, literary name Zuiweng and later Liuyi Jushi, was a Northern Song writer, statesman, and historian from Yongfeng in Jizhou. He is one of the “Eight Great Masters of the Tang and Song” and a major leader of the Northern Song prose reform movement. His prose is natural, lucid, and rhythmically flowing, often combining emotional depth with rational reflection. His ci lyrics are elegant and refined, and his historical writings were also highly influential. Major works include “Record of the Old Drunkard’s Pavilion,” “Rhapsody on the Sound of Autumn,” “On Factions,” “Preface to the Biographies of Actors,” and “Die Lian Hua · Deep, Deep Is the Courtyard.”