Nalan Xingde: The Tormented Poet of Qing Dynasty

In the glittering yet constrained world of the early Qing Dynasty (1644–1912) court, Nalan Xingde stood out as a figure of striking contradiction. Born into the powerful Nalan clan—a Manchu noble family with close ties to the imperial throne—he enjoyed wealth, privilege, and the favor of Emperor Kangxi. Yet beneath the trappings of his aristocratic life lay a soul tormented by melancholy, a sensitivity that found expression in his ci (lyric poetry). Renowned for their raw emotional intensity, delicate imagery, and profound sense of transience, Nalan’s verses have earned him a place as one of China’s greatest lyric poets, his work celebrated for capturing the universal ache of love, loss, and the fleeting nature of happiness.

Nalan Xingde (1655–1685), also known by his courtesy name Rongruo, was born into a life of political prominence. His father, Nalan Mingzhu, was a high-ranking official who served as Grand Secretary, one of the most powerful positions in the Qing government. From a young age, Nalan was groomed for a career in public service: he mastered both Manchu and Chinese, excelled in martial arts and classical studies, and became a close companion to the Kangxi Emperor, accompanying him on hunting expeditions and military campaigns. Yet despite his success in the imperial court—he rose to the position of Imperial Bodyguard—Nalan felt increasingly alienated from the world of politics and power. He found solace in literature, forming a literary society with like-minded scholars and immersing himself in the works of Tang and Song Dynasty poets, whose emphasis on personal emotion resonated deeply with his own temperament.

Tragedy shaped much of Nalan’s life and work. At the age of 19, he married Lady Lu, a woman with whom he shared a profound bond. Their happiness was short-lived, however; Lady Lu died three years later from complications following childbirth, leaving Nalan devastated. Grief became a central theme in his poetry, with many of his most moving verses dedicated to her memory. "I search for her in dreams, but she is not there," he wrote in one ci, capturing the agony of loss with stark simplicity. Later, he married again and had children, but the pain of Lady Lu’s death lingered, infusing his work with a sense of longing that transcends specific circumstances. Nalan’s own life was also cut short: he died at the age of 30, possibly from a combination of illness and chronic depression, leaving behind a body of work that, while small in quantity (fewer than 400 ci), is unparalleled in its emotional depth.

Nalan Xingde’s ci are characterized by their striking intimacy and emotional honesty.

Unlike many of his contemporaries, who favored elaborate metaphors and historical allusions, Nalan wrote in a style that is direct, almost conversational, yet rich with evocative imagery. His verses often draw on everyday scenes—a moonlit night, a fallen petal, a quiet moment of reflection—to express profound feelings. In "To the Tune of ‘Silk-Washing Stream,’" he writes: "The wind is cold, the moon is clear; the fireflies have gone to rest. / I lean on the railing, alone, my thoughts drifting far. / The fragrance of flowers fades; the sound of the flute lingers. / Who knows the depth of my sorrow?" These lines, with their sparse beauty and raw emotion, showcase Nalan’s ability to transform personal grief into universal art.

A recurring theme in Nalan’s work is the tension between his public role and his private feelings. As a Manchu noble and imperial official, he was expected to embody strength, loyalty, and stoicism, yet his poetry reveals a man who struggled with doubt, loneliness, and a sense of alienation from his own life. "I am tired of the red dust of officialdom," he wrote in one ci, expressing a longing for simplicity and authenticity that clashed with his social position. This conflict gives his work a unique complexity: his verses are at once the product of a privileged life and a rejection of its emptiness, a celebration of love and beauty and a lament for their impermanence.

Nalan’s poetry also reflects his deep engagement with Chinese literary traditions, particularly the ci form, which flourished during the Song Dynasty. He drew inspiration from poets like Li Yu, whose melancholic verses about loss and regret mirrored his own sensibilities, and Li Qingzhao, whose intimate, personal style influenced his approach to writing. Yet Nalan’s work is not merely derivative; he infused the ci with a distinctively Manchu perspective, blending the emotional restraint of his own culture with the expressive freedom of Chinese poetry. This fusion of traditions gives his work a unique flavor, making him a bridge between different literary and cultural worlds.

The influence of Nalan Xingde’s poetry has grown steadily since his death. During his lifetime, his work was admired by a small circle of scholars, but it was not until the 19th and 20th centuries that he gained widespread recognition as one of China’s greatest lyric poets. Writers and critics have praised his ability to capture the nuances of human emotion, his mastery of language, and his refusal to shy away from pain and vulnerability. In modern times, his ci have been widely anthologized, studied in schools, and adapted into songs and plays, ensuring that his voice continues to resonate with new generations of readers.

What makes Nalan Xingde’s work timeless is its exploration of universal human experiences: the pain of loss, the fleeting nature of happiness, the struggle to find meaning in a world that often feels empty. His poetry speaks to anyone who has loved and lost, who has felt alienated from their surroundings, who has wondered about the purpose of their life. In a society that often values strength and success above all else, Nalan’s willingness to embrace his own vulnerability, to express his sorrow and longing with unflinching honesty, is a radical act of courage.

As we read Nalan Xingde’s ci today, we are drawn into a world of quiet beauty and profound sadness, a world where the moonlit night and the fallen petal become mirrors for the human soul. In his verses, we see ourselves: our joys and sorrows, our hopes and regrets, our struggle to find meaning in the fleeting moments of life. Nalan may have lived a short and troubled life, but through his poetry, he has achieved a kind of immortality—a testament to the power of art to transcend time, to connect us to one another, and to make sense of the mysteries of the heart.