Spring FestivalPoetry

From the Pre-Qin Period to the Northern and Southern Dynasties

The origins of the Spring Festival reach deep into antiquity. The Book of Songs: “Seventh Month” from the Airs of Bin (《诗经·豳风·七月》) records:

“十月获稻，为此春酒，以介眉寿”

This reflects the Zhou-period custom of brewing and drinking wine at the end of the year to offer wishes for longevity. The Rites of Zhou: Offices of Spring (《周礼·春官》) likewise contains the record:

“正岁，年以序事”

By the Han dynasty, the Monthly Ordinances for the Four Classes of People (《四民月令》) described in detail New Year customs during the first lunar month, including “进酒降神” and “子妇曾孙各上椒酒于家长，称觞举寿.”

The earliest beginnings of Spring Festival poetry emerged from precisely these ancient traditions of the ritual year and seasonal observance.

Tang Dynasty

The Tang dynasty marked the first great flowering of Spring Festival poetry.

In Yuanri Ji Weishi Mei (《元日寄韦氏妹》), Du Fu wrote:

“近闻韦氏妹，迎在汉钟离。郎伯殊方镇，京华旧国移”

Within the festivities of New Year’s Day, he placed his profound longing for family.

Gao Shi’s Chuye Zuo (《除夜作》), beginning with “旅馆寒灯独不眠,” gave enduring expression to the loneliness of a traveler spending New Year’s Eve away from home and became a classic of later poetry on travel and exile.

Wang Wan’s Ci Beigushan Xia (《次北固山下》), though not strictly a Spring Festival poem, contains the celebrated couplet:

“海日生残夜，江春入旧年”

Through the transition of the seasons, the lines evoke the passing of the old and the arrival of the new. Zhang Yue, a leading statesman of the High Tang, is said to have inscribed this couplet in the Hall of State Affairs.

Tang Spring Festival poetry encompassed the splendor of court banquets, the simplicity of popular seasonal customs, and, no less importantly, the genuine homesickness of travelers far from home.

Northern and Southern Song Dynasties

The Song dynasty represented a high point in the development of Spring Festival poetry.

Wang Anshi’s Yuanri (《元日》) opens with “爆竹声中一岁除,” fusing Spring Festival customs with political aspiration and becoming one of the most widely recited poems associated with the festival.

Su Shi’s Shousui (《守岁》) employs vivid metaphor to reflect on the passing of time and the pleasures of staying awake through New Year’s Eve. Its sixteen lines unfold in carefully layered progression.

Lu You’s Chuye Xue (《除夜雪》) portrays tusu wine and peachwood charms amid the snow and wind of New Year’s Eve, creating an image of fresh and elegant clarity.

Fan Chengda’s Baozhu Xing (《爆竹行》), written with documentary precision, recreates the entire process of setting off firecrackers during the Song dynasty.

Yuan, Ming, and Qing Dynasties

During the Yuan, Ming, and Qing periods, the range of themes found in Spring Festival poetry became still broader.

During his final New Year’s Eve in captivity at Yanjing, Wen Tianxiang wrote Chuye (《除夜》). The lines “乾坤空落落，岁月去堂堂” convey the tragic grandeur of a life nearing its end while moral conviction remains unbroken.

In the Ming dynasty, Yuan Kai’s Kezhong Chuxi (《客中除夕》), with “今夕为何夕，他乡说故乡,” expresses the bitterness of wandering far from home amid an age of warfare.

The Qing poet Ye Xie wrote in Yingchun (《迎春》):

“不须迎向东郊去，春在千门万户中”

Through these lines, he found the living warmth of the Spring Festival within ordinary human life.

Huang Jingren’s Guisi Chuxi Oucheng (《癸巳除夕偶成》), meanwhile, places the joy of countless households beside the poet’s own consciousness of looming trouble. His lines—

“悄立市桥人不识，一星如月看多时”

—capture a solitude and lucidity existing beneath the surface of a prosperous age.

The images that recur throughout Spring Festival poetry form a distinctive “system of Spring Festival imagery.” They are literary expressions of New Year customs, but also vessels through which poets carry emotion.

Firecrackers

Firecrackers are among the most frequently recurring images in Spring Festival poetry.

Wang Anshi’s “爆竹声中一岁除” binds the sound of firecrackers to the farewell to the old and the welcome of the new with unparalleled concision.

Fan Chengda’s Baozhu Xing (《爆竹行》), by contrast, reconstructs the entire process of setting off firecrackers during the Song dynasty in documentary detail:

“截筒五尺煨以薪，节间汗流火力透，健仆取将仍疾走。当阶击地雷霆吼，一声两声百鬼惊，三声四声鬼巢倾”

Zhao Shixia’s line—

“爆竹声中岁又除，顿回和气满寰区”

—captures the joy of spring returning to heaven and earth amid the sound of firecrackers.

Within Spring Festival poetry, firecrackers are at once an auditory revelry—“雷霆吼”—a visual spectacle—“碎红满地”—and, more profoundly, an announcement of time itself: the old year ends in thunder, and the new year begins in thunder.

Tusu Wine

Tusu wine was an indispensable drink during the traditional Spring Festival.

Wang Anshi’s “春风送暖入屠苏” evokes spring through the sensory presence of the wine.

Lu You’s “半盏屠苏犹未举，灯前小草写桃符” describes New Year’s Eve when the cup of tusu has not yet been lifted, yet peachwood charms are already being written beneath the lamp.

Su Zhe’s “年年最后饮屠苏，不觉年来七十余” reflects the traditional order of drinking tusu: the young drank first, the elderly last.

According to tradition, tusu wine was created by Hua Tuo and was believed to possess the efficacy expressed in the phrase:

“岁旦辟疫气，不染瘟疫及伤寒”

Within Spring Festival poetry, tusu is at once a richness of taste, associated with warding off epidemic illness; an ethical symbol, reflecting order between younger and older generations; and a marker of the festival itself.

Where there is tusu wine, there is the Spring Festival.

Peachwood Charms and Spring Festival Couplets

Peachwood charms are among the most visually distinctive images in Spring Festival poetry.

Wang Anshi’s “总把新桃换旧符” presents one of the festival’s central visual symbols.

Lu You’s “灯前小草写桃符” captures the elegant pleasure of a scholar personally writing peachwood charms by lamplight on New Year’s Eve.

Originally, peachwood charms were boards hung beside the entrance, bearing the names of the two deities “神荼” and “郁垒,” intended to repel evil spirits.

By the Song dynasty, these peachwood charms gradually evolved into Spring Festival couplets.

In Spring Festival poetry, peachwood charms and couplets are not merely decorations beside a door. They announce the beginning of the new year.

“新桃换旧符” means that the old year has been turned over like a completed page, and the new year has formally begun.

Staying Awake Through New Year’s Eve

Shousui—staying awake through New Year’s Eve—is one of the most intimate images of everyday life in Spring Festival poetry.

Su Shi’s “儿童强不睡，相守夜欢哗” captures both the bustle and warmth of the night.

The single character “强” perfectly conveys the charm of children struggling against sleep.

The custom of shousui has a history of at least 1,700 years.

Within Spring Festival poetry, it is at once a ritual of time—“一夜连双岁”—a vessel of emotion, with family members sitting together amid welcoming lamplight, and a metaphor for life itself.

What people keep through shousui is not truly time.

What they keep is reunion.

Snow, Wind, and the Coming of Spring

Snow and wind on the one hand, and the coming of spring on the other, create a striking contrast among the natural images of Spring Festival poetry.

Lu You wrote:

“北风吹雪四更初，嘉瑞天教及岁除”

The lines portray auspicious snow on New Year’s Eve. The poet sees this heaven-sent snowfall arriving precisely at the threshold between old and new as a sign of blessing.

Wang Wan’s:

“海日生残夜，江春入旧年”

uses “日” and “春” as symbols of new life. The sun rises from the remnants of night and will drive away darkness; spring enters before the old year has even ended and will banish the severe winter.

Snow and wind belong to the cold of the departing year. Spring belongs to the hope of the new.

The tension between them gives poetic form to the deepest meaning of the Spring Festival idea of bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new.

Bidding Farewell to the Old and Welcoming the New

The most numerous and influential theme in Spring Festival poetry is the celebration of the old year’s departure and the new year’s arrival.

Wang Anshi’s Yuanri (《元日》), with:

“爆竹声中一岁除，春风送暖入屠苏”

captures the most essential Spring Festival customs in exceptionally condensed form.

Ye Xie’s Yingchun (《迎春》):

“不须迎向东郊去，春在千门万户中”

uses highly distilled language to evoke the atmosphere of the new spring.

Lu Zhaolin’s Yuanri Shuhuai (《元日述怀》):

“人歌小岁酒，花舞大唐春”

fuses the celebration of the Spring Festival with the grandeur of the High Tang.

Through their exuberant language, these poems preserve the joy and bustle of the festival. They are among the most direct songs Chinese poets have sung to the coming of the “year.”

Staying Awake and the Passage of Time

Shousui forms a distinctive subject within Spring Festival poetry.

In Shousui (《守岁》), Su Shi uses the vivid comparison:

“欲知垂尽岁，有似赴壑蛇”

to express the impossibility of holding back time, before turning to:

“努力尽今夕，少年犹可夸”

to affirm the importance of cherishing the present.

Lu You’s Chuye Xue (《除夜雪》):

“半盏屠苏犹未举，灯前小草写桃符”

brings together the fragrance of wine and the fragrance of ink on New Year’s Eve.

Poems of shousui occupy a place of their own within Spring Festival poetry. They do not write of daytime bustle, but of deep night; not of crowded celebration, but of quiet sitting; not simply of welcoming the new, but of reluctance to release the old.

It is within the tension between keeping and being unable to keep that Spring Festival poetry attains a philosophical depth extending far beyond seasonal custom.

Homesickness and Travel

The Spring Festival is a festival of reunion, and for precisely that reason it has also become one of the richest occasions for poetry of homesickness.

Gao Shi’s Chuye Zuo (《除夜作》):

“旅馆寒灯独不眠，客心何事转凄然”

expresses the loneliness of a traveler spending New Year’s Eve far from home.

Yuan Kai’s Kezhong Chuxi (《客中除夕》):

“今夕为何夕，他乡说故乡”

places the reunion of New Year’s Eve against the wandering of life away from home.

Bai Juyi’s Kezhong Shousui (《客中守岁》):

“守岁尊无酒，思乡泪满巾”

gives direct voice to longing for one’s family.

Against the backdrop of innumerable households reunited for New Year’s Eve, these poems intensify the traveler’s loneliness to its furthest point.

The more festive the occasion, the more deeply solitude cuts into the person far from home.

Anxiety and the Fate of the Nation

The deepest dimension of Spring Festival poetry lies in poets’ consciousness of danger and their concern for the fate of the country even amid festive celebration.

Wen Tianxiang’s Chuye (《除夜》):

“无复屠苏梦，挑灯夜未央”

expresses the tragic grandeur of a life approaching its end while moral conviction remains unbroken.

Huang Jingren’s Guisi Chuxi Oucheng (《癸巳除夕偶成》):

“千家笑语漏迟迟，忧患潜从物外知”

places profound anxiety over the political and social order beneath the apparent joy of New Year’s Eve.

Du Fu’s Yuanri Ji Weishi Mei (《元日寄韦氏妹》) entrusts both longing for family and concern for troubled times to the occasion of New Year’s Day.

These poems connect personal experience during the Spring Festival with the fate of the wider country, allowing festival poetry to move beyond landscape and emotion toward a contemplation of history and the realm.

Spring Festival poetry is one of the most brilliant chapters in the treasury of Chinese verse. From Wang Anshi’s “爆竹声中一岁除,” celebrating the farewell to the old and the welcome of the new, to Su Shi’s “儿童强不睡，相守夜欢哗,” capturing the warmth of staying awake through New Year’s Eve; from Wen Tianxiang’s “乾坤空落落，岁月去堂堂,” with its tragic awareness of a life nearing its end, to Meng Haoran’s “田家占气候，共说此年丰,” expressing a quiet pastoral hope; from Gao Shi’s “旅馆寒灯独不眠,” filled with the homesickness of the traveler, to Huang Jingren’s “悄立市桥人不识，一星如月看多时,” with its lucid anxiety beneath the surface of prosperity—Spring Festival poetry has preserved the countless emotions Chinese people have attached to the idea of the “year” across a thousand years.

Within these poems resound the thunder of firecrackers—“爆竹声中一岁除”; the mellow fragrance of tusu—“春风送暖入屠苏”; the fresh ink of peachwood charms—“总把新桃换旧符”; the candlelight of shousui—“儿童强不睡，相守夜欢哗”; the traces of homesick tears—“旅馆寒灯独不眠”; and the clear-eyed awareness of danger—“忧患潜从物外知”. The enduring meaning of Spring Festival poetry lies precisely in its ability to carry the sound of firecrackers and fragrance of tusu, the night of reunion and the pain of homesickness, from a thousand years ago into every succeeding age of Chinese life.

From Wang Anshi to Su Shi, from Wen Tianxiang to Huang Jingren, the center of Spring Festival poetry unfolds through ever-deeper layers. Wang Anshi foregrounds the joy of bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new; Su Shi reveals the tenderness of shousui and the desire to cherish time; Wen Tianxiang writes the resolution found at the threshold of death; Huang Jingren captures the anxiety concealed beneath an age of prosperity. Read together, the four poets reveal the multilayered structure of Spring Festival culture. The first layer is the bustle of festive custom; the second, the warmth of family reunion; the third, reflection on the passing of time; the fourth, concern for family, country, and the wider world. The Spring Festival poems transmitted through the centuries form something like an immense cultural scroll of the Chinese inner world. In these lines, the Spring Festival is both the farewell to the old and welcome of the new amid firecrackers, and the reunion of the family over cups of tusu; it is both the intimate warmth beneath the candlelight of shousui and the profound solitude of a lone star watched as though it were the moon. And the buoyant energy of “总把新桃换旧符” allows the festival’s renewal to mean more than the turning of the calendar: it becomes an enduring longing for transformation itself. Spring Festival poetry is among the most affectionate and enduring literary declarations Chinese people have made about family and country—a record of the memory and feeling of the New Year written in ink by generation after generation.

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[Language: es]