There was this woman poet in 4th century China called Su Hui (蘇蕙), a child genius who had reportedly mastered Chinese characters by age 3.
At 21 years old, heartbroken by her husband who left her for another woman, she decided to encode her feelings in a structure so intricate, so beautiful, so intellectually staggering that it still baffles scholars to this day.
Came to be known as the Xuanji Tu (璇璣圖) - the “Star Gauge” or “Map of the Armillary Sphere” - it’s a 29 by 29 grid of 841 characters that can produce over 4,000 different poems.
Read it forward. Read it backward. Read it horizontally, vertically, diagonally. Read it spiraling outward from the center. Read it in circles around the outer edge. Each path through the grid produces a different poem - all of them coherent, all of them beautiful, all of them rhyming, all of them expressing variations on the same themes of longing, betrayal, regret, and undying love.
The outer ring of 112 characters forms a single circular poem - believed to be both the first and longest of its kind ever written. The interior grid produces 2,848 different four-line poems of seven characters each. In addition, there are hundreds of other smaller and longer poems, depending on the reading method.
At the center a single character she left implied but unwritten: 心 (xin) - “heart.” Later copyists would add it explicitly, but in Su Hui’s original the meaning was even more beautiful: 4,000 poems, all orbiting the space where her heart used to be.
Take for instance the outer red grid of the Star Gauge. Starting from the top right corner and reading down, you get this seven-character quatrain:
仁智懷德聖虞唐，
貞志篤終誓穹蒼，
欽所感想妄淫荒，
心憂增慕懷慘傷。
In pinyin, it is:
Rén zhì huái dé shèng yú táng,
zhēnzhì dǔ zhōng shì qióng cāng,
qīn suǒ gǎnxiǎng wàng yín huāng,
xīn yōu zēng mù huái cǎn shāng.
Notice how it rhymes? táng / cāng / huāng / shāng
The rough translation in English is: “The benevolent and wise cherish virtue, like the sage-kings Yao and Shun, With steadfast will I swear to the heavens above, What I revere and feel - how could it be wanton or dissolute? My heart’s sorrow grows, longing brings only grief.”
Now read it from the bottom to the top and you get this entirely different seven-character quatrain:
傷慘懷慕增憂心，
荒淫妄想感所欽，
蒼穹誓終篤志貞，
唐虞聖德懷智仁。
The pinyin:
Shāng cǎn huái mù zēng yōu xīn,
huāngyín wàngxiǎng gǎn suǒ qīn,
cāngqióng shì zhōng dǔzhì zhēn,
táng yúshèngdé huái zhì rén.
It rhymes too: xīn and qīn, zhēn and rén
And the meaning is just as beautiful and coherent: “Grief and sorrow, longing fills my worried heart, Wanton and dissolute fantasies - is that what you revere? I swear to the heavens my constancy is true, May we embody the sage-kings’ virtue, wisdom, and benevolence.”
That’s just 2 poems out of the over 4,000 you can construct from the Xuanji Tu!
At the very center of the grid, the 8 red characters wrapped around the central heart, she “signed” her poem with a hidden message:
詩圖璇玑，始平蘇氏。 “The poem-picture of the Armillary Sphere, by Su of Shiping.”
Or reversed:
蘇氏詩圖，璇玑始平。 “Su’s poem-picture - the Armillary Sphere begins in peace.”
Many scholars, and even emperors, throughout Chinese history have been completely obsessed by Su Hui’s puzzle.
For instance, in the Ming dynasty, a scholar named Kang Wanmin (康萬民) devoted his entire life to the poems (kangshiw.com/contents/461/2…), ending up documenting twelve different reading methods - forward, backward, diagonal, radiating, corner-to-corner, spiraling - and extracting 4,206 poems. His book on the subject (“Reading Methods for the Xuanji Tu Poems”, 璇璣圖詩讀法) runs to hundreds of pages.
Empress Wu Zetian herself, the legendary woman emperor of the Tang dynasty, wrote a preface to the Xuanji Tu around 692 CE (baike.baidu.com/item/%E7%BB%87…).
Incredibly, there’s even far more complexity to the Xuanji Tu than just the poems:
- The name 璇玑 (Xuanji) - Armillary Sphere - is astronomical in meaning and the way the poems can be read mirrors the way celestial bodies orbit around a fixed center. It’s a model of the heavens.
- Her original work, with the characters woven on silk brocade, was in five colors (red, black, blue/green, purple, and yellow) which correspond to the Five Elements (五行) - the foundational Chinese philosophical system that explains how the universe operates. So it’s also a model of the entire cosmic order according to ancient Chinese philosophy.
- It’s also of course deeply mathematical with this 29 x 29 perfect square grid, with sub-squares, lines and rectangles, and a structure which allows for symmetrical reading patterns in all directions
- Last but not least, the content of the poems themselves contain multiple registers. On top of expressing her personal grief and longing for her husband, it’s also filled with accusations against the concubine (Zhao Yangtai) he left her for, reflections on politics (with many references to sage-kings) and philosophical reflections.
So the Star Gauge is simultaneously:
- A love letter (expressing personal longing)
- A legal brief (arguing her case against her rival)
- A cosmological model (structured like the heavens)
- A Five Element diagram (encoding the fundamental structure of the world according to ancient Chinese philosophy)
- A mathematical construction with perfect symmetry and precision
And yet, for all this complexity, we should not forget this was all ultimately in service of the simplest human message imaginable: a 21-year-old woman asking the love of her life “come back to me”.
Her husband did, eventually. According to what empress Wu Zetian herself wrote in her preface to the Xuanji Tu, when he received Su’s brocade he was so “moved by its supreme beauty” that he sent away his concubine and returned to his wife. As the story goes, they lived together until old age.
The heart at the center was filled after all.
I wish I could travel through time and transcend language to hold this woman’s hand and tell her “girl, he ain’t shit”
if i open your bio and its a list of mental illnesses i’m not following. youre supposed to list bands and games you like and allow me to infer the mental illness.
I guess I’ve made my point well enough but at times like these what I remember is the Iraq war, specifically that while what is emphasized so often is the brutality of it and how it was waged just for oil, but I think portraying the US as this all-powerful, implacable bandit on the world stage is a form of usamerican propaganda in itself. Instead, what I think of are the results.
Did the US actually end up getting Iraq’s oil? Well, not really. They planned to privatize the state oil company but the intensity of the insurgencies in the wake of the fall of the Baathist state immediately forced usamerican planners to contend with the political impossibility of such a thing. Did they change Iraq into a staunch usamerican ally? No. The US still maintains a presence in the country by force but they’re hated throughout the political spectrum and at most tolerated on a temporary basis. By contrast the country who gained the most geopolitically from the usamerican war on Iraq was, in fact, Iran.
These people in their offices in Langely, they’re capable of marshalling lots of resources, yes, they’re good at dropping lots of bombs and killing lots of people, yes, but remember that they are not actually very good at actually winning and bending the world to their will, and they’ve arguably been getting worse at it every year since the 80s, or even from their retreat in disgrace from Vietnam. Mao wasn’t kidding or showing a strong face when he said the imperialist powers were paper tigers. The US can be fought and beaten, and in fact it loses more often than it wins. You’ve Gotta get out of this defeatist frame of mind.
No joke, go read The Open Veins of Latin America before even trying to send me a political ask. Mandatory reading.
It’s a cliché that every Latin American leftist has read it and quotes it, but that’s because it’s written in such a clear language with undeniable strenght on its facts. It presents the history of Latin America solidly just in the first few pages, and it only gets more engrossing the more it goes on. While it is now a bit outdated in the sense that it was first published in 1971, the historical, social and political issues presented are -in an unfortunate way- still current. It is a relatively short book, passionate and in a clear, poetic language.
Sometimes it’s good to return to the basics, and this is THE basic book if you want to understand the effects of imperialism in Latin America, and our struggle for freedom and identity.
Instead of losing your time with half baked twitteroid takes, go read it. Here you go, for free, in Spanish, Portuguese and English:
ALT
