End of Heat Poetry

In spring, a single grain of millet is sown; in autumn, ten thousand grains are harvested. Across the land, not a field lies idle, yet farmers still starve to death.

Although the title does not explicitly mention End of Heat, the line “秋收万颗子” is a vivid reflection of the approaching autumn harvest during this season. The first two lines, “春种一粒粟，秋收万颗子”, use the striking contrast between “one grain” and “ten thousand seeds” to portray the magnificence of agricultural abundance. It is also a truthful image of crops maturing around End of Heat. The final two lines, “四海无闲田，农夫犹饿死”, turn sharply: the contrast between a land where no field is left unused and farmers who nevertheless starve exposes the cruel reality in which peasants labored endlessly yet could not secure enough food for themselves. The poem’s language is extremely concise, yet its critical force is deeply powerful. The title “悯农”, “Compassion for the Farmers,” makes clear the poet’s profound sympathy for those who work the land, while End of Heat, as a prelude to the autumn harvest, is precisely a moment when such compassion should be most keenly awakened.

In ordinary years, when End of Heat arrives, a lingering coolness can already be felt around the courtyard and house. Yet I have wandered south, where this oppressive heat is nothing like the climate of my homeland. Autumn still seems distant and faint, while the nights stretch long and deep. Can I still remain here a while longer? The year is abundant, and the fragrance of ripening japonica rice fills the air.

Lü Benzhong sets this poem against End of Heat and writes of the emotions of a traveler far from home. “平时遇处暑，庭户有馀凉” describes the coolness that should normally accompany the season; “庭户有馀凉” points directly to the seasonal characteristic that, at End of Heat, the summer heat should begin to cease. The next couplet, “乙纪走南国，炎天非故乡”, describes the poet wandering in the south, where the lingering heat at End of Heat differs from the climate of his homeland—the implication being that at home, the coolness would have arrived earlier and more fully. “寥寥秋尚远，杳杳夜光长” writes that in the south the sense of autumn is still faint and distant, though the nights have already begun to lengthen. The final couplet, “尚可留连否，年丰粳稻香”, closes with a question: since the harvest is good and the japonica rice is fragrant, why must he hurry home? The poem holds a subtle balance between the sorrow of travel and the joy of abundance.

This is already a landscape made for traveling in autumn, and all the more so now that End of Heat has arrived. Leaves drift down before the face, while refreshing air blows toward the rider over the horse’s head. Along the post roads, veils of mist stretch and shorten; over the distant mountains, clouds shift into ever stranger forms. The crops in the fields are visibly ripening, and the only wish is that the autumn frost may come a little later.

This poem by the Qianlong Emperor writes the autumn scenery of End of Heat from the perspective of an imperial journey. “究是行秋地，那更处暑时” opens by stating that End of Heat is precisely a fine season for traveling through autumn landscapes. “叶从人面落” captures falling leaves drifting directly past the face, while “爽自马头披” writes the bodily sensation of cool air meeting the rider head-on. One image falls, the other arrives, bringing the traveler into direct contact with autumn. “烟驿长和短，云山幻复奇” describes the changing smoke and mist along the post roads and the shifting clouded mountains seen during the journey; their lengths and shapes constantly change, combining realistic observation with imaginative scenery. The final couplet, “田畴看渐熟，惟有祝霜迟”, turns toward agriculture: the crops are gradually ripening, and the only wish is that frost will come late. This is the simplest and most practical hope of farmers at End of Heat—the later the frost, the more fully the crops can ripen. The poem voices a farmer’s wish from the elevated position of an emperor. Though this inevitably carries a certain sense of looking downward upon rural life, the concern for the autumn harvest remains genuine.

Fierce winds drive urgent rain before them, sweeping away every trace of lingering summer heat. Only then does one understand how heat and coolness can exchange places in the space of a single moment. Now even the gaps in the paper windows seem troublesome because they let in the cold air, while the silk fan is almost laughable, having suddenly become useless. A child is reciting the *Rhapsody on the Sound of Autumn*, bringing to mind Ouyang Xiu, the Old Drunkard.

Qiu Yuan writes of a storm after End of Heat that brings an abrupt transformation into autumn coolness. “疾风驱急雨，残暑扫除空” uses the two forceful verbs “驱”, “drive,” and “扫”, “sweep away,” to convey both the violence of the wind and rain and the thorough disappearance of the remaining heat. “因识炎凉态，都来顷刻中” contains the poem’s central reflection: the shift between heat and coolness may occur within a single instant. It writes of climate, yet also hints at the changing warmth and coldness of human life. “纸窗嫌有隙” shows autumn coolness entering through cracks in the paper window, gaps that have now become irritating because they admit the wind; “纨扇笑无功” humorously personifies the silk fan, now suddenly without any useful purpose. In the final couplet, “儿读秋声赋，令人忆醉翁”, a child recites Ouyang Xiu’s *Rhapsody on the Sound of Autumn*, causing the poet to remember the broad-minded and detached Old Drunkard. By bringing literary allusion into the wind, rain, and autumn coolness, the poem gives its seasonal reflection a deeper cultural resonance.

Another year has carried me once more to the days of End of Heat; for the first time I try on a light single robe before the evening breeze. In front of the courtyard, parasol-tree leaves have begun to fall, while beside my pillow the rustling sound of autumn can already be heard. During illness, time allows me to remain idle; in this life of leisure, I simply let the days and months pass as others may pity me. When will I finally be able to fulfill my plan of returning to the fields and sleep in drunken contentment beside my young child and rustic wife?

Zhang Mu sets this poem against End of Heat and writes of thoughts of withdrawal while ill. “一岁频过处暑天” expresses a sense of the recurring solar term within the passing of time, while “单衣初试晚风前” captures the detail of beginning to try on a light single robe as the weather cools after End of Heat. “庭前桐叶初飞落，枕上秋声已飒然” combines falling leaves in the courtyard with the sound of autumn beside the pillow, giving both visual and auditory form to the first arrival of autumn after the season. “病里光阴容我懒，闲中日月任人怜” writes the languor of illness and secluded life, allowing time to pass without resistance. The final couplet, “何时得遂归田计，稚子山妻共醉眠”, directly expresses the poet’s wish to withdraw from the world and return to rural life. As the autumn feeling deepens after End of Heat, it becomes a season of longing for home, and the image of a young child, a rustic wife, and a simple country life becomes the warmest hope in the poet’s heart. The poem thus blends seasonal reflection with a deeper meditation on life.
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