文心雕龍·序志
My Mind Has a Place to Lodge: Liu Xie's Afterword to The Literary Mind
Liu Xie 劉勰 (c. 465–c. 522)
Six Dynasties · c. 501–502

Cold Library · Open Stacks · S-008203 · https://coldlibrary.com/s/008203
Rights: Written about 501–502; the author died about 522. Checked for Australia, the EU, the UK, mainland China and the United States as of 11 October 2026. Guidance, not legal advice.
Source: Wikisource (zh), 文心雕龍/序志, https://zh.wikisource.org/wiki/文心雕龍/序志 (retrieved 2026-10-11)
English translation: Claude (an AI), 2026 · CC0 1.0
Generated 2026-10-14 from https://coldlibrary.com/en/open-stacks/liu-xie-my-intent

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夫文心者，言為文之用心也，昔涓子《琴心》，王孫《巧心》。心哉美矣，故用之焉。古來文章以雕縟成體，豈取騶奭之群言雕龍也。

夫宇宙綿邈，黎獻紛雜，拔萃出類，智術而已，歲月飄忽，性靈不居，騰聲飛實，制作而已。夫有肖貌天地，稟性五才，擬耳目於日月，方聲氣乎風雷，其超出萬物亦已靈矣。形同草木之脆，名踰金石之堅，是以君子處世樹德建言，豈好辯哉，不得已也。

予生七齡，乃夢彩雲若錦，則攀而採之，齒在踰立，則嘗夜夢執丹漆之禮器，隨仲尼而南行，旦而寤，迺怡然而喜，大哉聖人之難見哉，乃小子之垂夢歟，自生人以來，未有如夫子者也。

敷讚聖旨，莫若注經，而馬鄭諸儒，弘之已精，就有深解，未足立家。唯文章之用，實經典枝條；五禮資之以成，六典因之致用，君臣所以炳煥；軍國所以昭明，詳其本源，莫非經典。而去聖久遠，文體解散，辭人愛奇，言貴浮詭，飾羽尚畫，文繡鞶帨，離本彌甚，將遂訛濫。蓋《周書》論辭，貴乎體要，尼父陳訓，惡乎異端，辭訓之異，宜體於要，於是搦筆和墨，乃始論文。

詳觀近代之論文者多矣；至如魏文述《典》，陳思序《書》，應瑒《文論》，陸機《文賦》，仲洽《流別》，弘範《翰林》，各照隅隙，鮮觀衢路，或臧否當時之才；或銓品前修之文，或泛舉雅俗之旨；或撮題篇章之意，魏《典》密而不周，陳《書》辨而無當，應《論》華而疏略，陸《賦》巧而碎亂，《流別》精而少功，《翰林》淺而寡要。又君山公幹之徒，吉甫士龍之輩，泛議文意，往往間出，並未能振葉以尋根，觀瀾而索源。不述先哲之誥，無益後生之慮。

蓋《文心》之作也，本乎道，師乎聖，體乎經，酌乎緯，變乎騷，文之樞紐，亦云極矣。若乃論文敘筆，則囿別區分，原始以表末，釋名以章義，選文以定篇，敷理以舉統，上篇以上，綱領明矣。至於割情析采，籠圈條貫，摛神性，圖風勢，包會通，閱聲字，崇替於《時序》，褒貶於《才略》，怊悵於《知音》，耿介於《程器》，長懷《序志》，以馭群篇，下篇以下，毛目顯矣。位理定名，彰乎大《易》之數，其為文用四十九篇而已。

夫銓序一文為易，彌綸群言為難，雖復輕采毛髮，深極骨髓，或有曲意密源，似近而遠，辭所不載，亦不勝數矣。及其品列成文，有同乎舊談者，非雷同也，勢自不可異也。有異乎前論者，非苟異也，理自不可同也。同之與異，不屑古今，擘肌分理，唯務折衷，按轡文雅之場，環絡藻繪之府，亦幾乎備矣。但言不盡意，聖人所難，識在缾管，何能矩矱，茫茫往代，既沈予聞；眇眇來世，倘塵彼觀也。

贊曰：生也有涯，無涯惟智，逐物實難，憑性良易。傲岸泉石，咀嚼文義。文果載心，余心有寄。

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夫文心者，言为文之用心也，昔涓子《琴心》，王孙《巧心》。心哉美矣，故用之焉。古来文章以雕缛成体，岂取驺奭之群言雕龙也。

夫宇宙绵邈，黎献纷杂，拔萃出类，智术而已，岁月飘忽，性灵不居，腾声飞实，制作而已。夫有肖貌天地，禀性五才，拟耳目于日月，方声气乎风雷，其超出万物亦已灵矣。形同草木之脆，名逾金石之坚，是以君子处世树德建言，岂好辩哉，不得已也。

予生七龄，乃梦彩云若锦，则攀而采之，齿在逾立，则尝夜梦执丹漆之礼器，随仲尼而南行，旦而寤，迺怡然而喜，大哉圣人之难见哉，乃小子之垂梦欤，自生人以来，未有如夫子者也。

敷赞圣旨，莫若注经，而马郑诸儒，弘之已精，就有深解，未足立家。唯文章之用，实经典枝条；五礼资之以成，六典因之致用，君臣所以炳焕；军国所以昭明，详其本源，莫非经典。而去圣久远，文体解散，辞人爱奇，言贵浮诡，饰羽尚画，文绣鞶帨，离本弥甚，将遂讹滥。盖《周书》论辞，贵乎体要，尼父陈训，恶乎异端，辞训之异，宜体于要，于是搦笔和墨，乃始论文。

详观近代之论文者多矣；至如魏文述《典》，陈思序《书》，应玚《文论》，陆机《文赋》，仲洽《流别》，弘范《翰林》，各照隅隙，鲜观衢路，或臧否当时之才；或铨品前修之文，或泛举雅俗之旨；或撮题篇章之意，魏《典》密而不周，陈《书》辨而无当，应《论》华而疏略，陆《赋》巧而碎乱，《流别》精而少功，《翰林》浅而寡要。又君山公幹之徒，吉甫士龙之辈，泛议文意，往往间出，并未能振叶以寻根，观澜而索源。不述先哲之诰，无益后生之虑。

盖《文心》之作也，本乎道，师乎圣，体乎经，酌乎纬，变乎骚，文之枢纽，亦云极矣。若乃论文叙笔，则囿别区分，原始以表末，释名以章义，选文以定篇，敷理以举统，上篇以上，纲领明矣。至于割情析采，笼圈条贯，摛神性，图风势，包会通，阅声字，崇替于《时序》，褒贬于《才略》，怊怅于《知音》，耿介于《程器》，长怀《序志》，以驭群篇，下篇以下，毛目显矣。位理定名，彰乎大《易》之数，其为文用四十九篇而已。

夫铨序一文为易，弥纶群言为难，虽复轻采毛发，深极骨髓，或有曲意密源，似近而远，辞所不载，亦不胜数矣。及其品列成文，有同乎旧谈者，非雷同也，势自不可异也。有异乎前论者，非苟异也，理自不可同也。同之与异，不屑古今，擘肌分理，唯务折衷，按辔文雅之场，环络藻绘之府，亦几乎备矣。但言不尽意，圣人所难，识在缾管，何能矩矱，茫茫往代，既沉予闻；眇眇来世，倘尘彼观也。

赞曰：生也有涯，无涯惟智，逐物实难，凭性良易。傲岸泉石，咀嚼文义。文果载心，余心有寄。

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English translation by Claude (an AI)

"The literary mind" means the care that goes into writing. In former times there were Juanzi's Mind of the Zither and Wangsun's Mind of Skill. The mind is a beautiful thing, and so I have used the word. Writing has always taken its form through carving and rich ornament; I do not take "dragon-carving" merely from what the crowd once said of Zou Shi.

The universe stretches on without end, and the many and the worthy are mixed together; what raises one above the rest is intelligence and skill, nothing more. The years and months fly by, and the spirit does not stay; what sends a name aloft and makes its substance fly is the making of works, nothing more. A human being has a form like heaven and earth and a nature drawn from the five elements, eyes and ears modelled on the sun and moon, voice and breath like the wind and thunder; in rising above the ten thousand things he is spiritual indeed. His body is as frail as grass and trees, but a name can outlast the hardness of metal and stone. So the gentleman, in his time in the world, establishes virtue and establishes words. Is it that he loves argument? He has no choice.

When I was seven I dreamed of clouds like coloured brocade, and climbed up to gather them. Past thirty, I dreamed one night that I was carrying the red-lacquered vessels of the rites and following Confucius south. When I woke at dawn I was glad. How great he is, the sage so hard to see, and yet he came down into the dream of a young man like me! Since humankind was born there has been no one like the Master.

To set forth and praise the sage's meaning, nothing is better than commenting on the classics; but Ma Rong, Zheng Xuan and the other scholars have expounded them thoroughly, and even if I reached some deep understanding it would not be enough to found a school. Yet the uses of writing are truly branches of the classics. The five kinds of rites depend on it to be complete, and the six departments of government on it to work; by it ruler and minister shine, and by it the affairs of army and state are made clear. Trace them to their source and all come from the classics. But we are far from the sage now. The forms of writing have come apart; writers love the strange and prize the floating and fantastic, decorating feathers and painting them, embroidering girdles and kerchiefs. They stray further and further from the root and will soon fall into error and excess. The Book of Zhou, speaking of language, values the essential; Confucius in his teaching disliked heresies. Language and teaching differ, but both should keep to what is essential. So I took up the brush and mixed the ink, and began to write about literature.

When I look closely at those in recent times who have written about literature, they are many: Emperor Wen of Wei's Discourse, the Prince of Chen's Letter, Ying Yang's On Literature, Lu Ji's Rhapsody on Literature, Zhongqia's Divisions, Hongfan's Forest of Brushes. Each lights up a corner or a crack, and few see the open highway. Some judge the talents of their own time, some weigh the writing of earlier masters, some range broadly over the refined and the vulgar, some sum up the ideas of particular works. The Discourse of Wei is close-knit but not complete; the Letter of Chen is eloquent but off the mark; Ying's essay is splendid but sketchy; Lu's rhapsody is skilful but fragmented; the Divisions is precise but achieves little; the Forest of Brushes is shallow and short of essentials. Then there are men like Junshan and Gonggan, Jifu and Shilong, who discuss the meaning of writing in general terms, and their remarks turn up from time to time; but none of them could shake the leaves to find the root, or watch the waves to seek the source. If one does not pass on the teachings of the wise who went before, one is no help to the thinking of those born after.

The Literary Mind is rooted in the Way, takes the sage as teacher and the classics as its body, draws on the apocrypha and transforms the Sao: the pivot of writing is here, as far as it can reach. In discussing rhymed and unrhymed writing, each kind has its own field and division: I trace origins to show their later course, explain names to make their meaning plain, choose works to fix the canon, and set out principles to bring them together. In the first part the main lines are clear. As for dissecting feeling and analysing colour, enclosing and connecting the threads, I describe spirit and nature, picture wind and force, take in continuity and change, and examine sound and word; I trace rise and fall in "The Times", praise and blame in "Talents", lament in "The One Who Knows the Music", stand upright in "Weighing the Vessel", and in "My Intent" I gather my long thoughts to rule all the chapters. In the second part the fine details are plain. In arranging the principles and fixing the names I follow the number of the Great Changes: the chapters put to use on writing are only forty-nine.

To arrange and order one piece of writing is easy; to embrace the whole range of what has been said is hard. Though I have picked up the lightest hairs and probed to the marrow, there are crooked meanings and hidden springs that seem near but are far, and what my words do not record is past counting. Where my judgements of the finished works agree with old opinions, it is not that I echo them: the case simply cannot be otherwise. Where they differ from earlier views, it is not that I differ for the sake of it: the reasoning simply cannot be the same. Agreeing or differing, I pay no heed to old or new; I cut along the grain of the flesh and seek only the balanced mean. Holding the reins in the field of refined letters, circling the storehouse of ornament, I have come close to covering it all. But words cannot fully say what is meant, a thing even the sage found hard; and my knowledge is that of a jar or a pipe, how could it be a carpenter's rule and square? The ages past, vast and dim, have already steeped my hearing; the generations to come, far and faint, perhaps this will lie like dust before their eyes.

The eulogy says: Life has its limit; knowledge alone has none. To chase after things is truly hard; to follow one's nature is easy. Proud among the springs and rocks, I chew on the meaning of writing. If writing truly carries the mind, my mind has a place to lodge.