《赤壁赋》的创作历史背景
《赤壁赋》（全称为《前赤壁赋》）是北宋文学家苏轼于元丰五年（1082 年）创作的一篇千古名篇。其创作背景与苏轼的人生境遇及历史事件紧密相关：
政治贬谪的境遇：
苏轼因 “乌台诗案”（1079 年）被贬为黄州团练副使，这一职位形同流放，且受到地方官吏的监视。在黄州的四年（1080-1084 年），是他人生的低谷，却也是文学创作的巅峰期。政治上的失意、生活的困顿，促使他反思人生、宇宙与命运，形成了旷达超脱的思想境界。
赤壁之行的触发：
元丰五年七月和十月，苏轼两游黄州附近的 “赤壁矶”（注：此赤壁非三国赤壁之战的真正战场，而是因山石赭赤而得名的地名，苏轼明知其非古战场，却借历史典故抒情）。夜游赤壁时，江面月色、秋风萧瑟的景象触动了他，结合对三国赤壁之战（曹操兵败周瑜）的联想，引发了他对英雄成败、人生短暂与永恒的哲思，遂写下《前赤壁赋》（十月作）及《后赤壁赋》。
思想内涵的寄托：
文中通过主客问答的形式，借 “水” 与 “月” 的意象，探讨了 “变” 与 “不变” 的辩证关系，表达了对人生无常的释然 ——“盖将自其变者而观之，则天地曾不能以一瞬；自其不变者而观之，则物与我皆无尽也”。这种超越个人得失的豁达，既是对自身境遇的精神突围，也体现了儒、道、佛思想在他身上的融合。
English Translation of the Historical Background
"Ode to the Red Cliff" (full title "Former Ode to the Red Cliff") is a timeless masterpiece written by Su Shi, a literary giant of the Northern Song Dynasty, in the fifth year of the Yuanfeng era (1082 CE). Its creation is closely linked to Su Shi’s life circumstances and historical events:
Political Exile
Su Shi was demoted to the post of "Tuanlian Fushi" (a nominal military advisor with no real power) in Huangzhou after the "Wutai Poetry Case" (1079 CE). This position was tantamount to exile, with surveillance by local officials. His four years in Huangzhou (1080–1084 CE), though a low point in his political career, marked a peak in his literary output. Frustration in politics and hardship in life prompted him to reflect on life, the universe, and fate, fostering an open-minded and transcendental philosophy.
Inspiration from the Red Cliff Visit
In the seventh and tenth months of 1082, Su Shi visited the "Red Cliff" (Chibi) near Huangzhou twice. (Note: This Red Cliff is not the actual site of the Battle of Red Cliffs in the Three Kingdoms period, but a local landmark named for its reddish-brown rocks. Su Shi, aware it was not the historical battlefield, nonetheless used the allusion to express his emotions.) During a night cruise on the Yangtze River, the moonlit scenery and the rustling autumn wind stirred his thoughts. 联想到 the Battle of Red Cliffs (where Cao Cao was defeated by Zhou Yu), he contemplated the vicissitudes of heroes, the brevity and eternity of life, leading to the composition of "Former Ode to the Red Cliff" (written in the tenth month) and "Latter Ode to the Red Cliff".
Philosophical Connotations
Through a dialogue between the "host" and "guest" in the text, Su Shi uses the metaphors of "water" and "moon" to explore the dialectical relationship between "change" and "constancy." He expresses reconciliation with life’s impermanence: "From the perspective of change, heaven and earth vanish in an instant; from the perspective of constancy, all things and I are eternal." This 豁达，transcending personal gains and losses, was both a spiritual breakthrough amid his predicament and a reflection of the integration of Confucian, Taoist, and Buddhist thoughts in his mind.
壬戌之秋，七月既望，苏子与客泛舟游于赤壁之下。清风徐来，水波不兴。举酒属客，诵明月之诗，歌窈窕之章。少焉，月出于东山之上，徘徊于斗牛之间。白露横江，水光接天。纵一苇之所如，凌万顷之茫然。浩浩乎如冯虚御风，而不知其所止；飘飘乎如遗世独立，羽化而登仙。
In the autumn of the renxu year (1082 CE), on the night of the sixteenth day of the seventh lunar month, I (Su Shi) and my guests went boating below the Red Cliff. A gentle breeze 吹来，rippling the water without stirring waves. I raised my wine cup to toast the guests, reciting poems about the bright moon and singing verses of "Graceful Fairness." Presently, the moon rose above the eastern mountains, lingering between the stars of the Dipper and Ox constellations. White dew spread across the river; the water’s glow merged with the sky. We let our small boat drift where it would, cutting through the boundless, misty expanse. Vast and weightless, we seemed to ride the air, unanchored; floating free, as if separated from the world, transformed into immortals ascending to heaven.
于是饮酒乐甚，扣舷而歌之。歌曰：“桂棹兮兰桨，击空明兮溯流光。渺渺兮予怀，望美人兮天一方。” 客有吹洞箫者，倚歌而和之。其声呜呜然，如怨如慕，如泣如诉，余音袅袅，不绝如缕。舞幽壑之潜蛟，泣孤舟之嫠妇。
Then, joyous with wine, I tapped the side of the boat and sang: “Oars of cassia and paddles of orchid, striking the moonlit water, rowing against the flowing light. My heart drifts far—yearning for the beauty, who lies beyond the sky.” A guest played the vertical flute, accompanying the song in harmony. Its sound wailed, as if in resentment, admiration, weeping, or lament; the lingering notes curled like a thread, unbroken. It would make hidden dragons in deep valleys dance, and widows on lonely boats weep.
苏子愀然，正襟危坐而问客曰：“何为其然也？” 客曰：“‘月明星稀，乌鹊南飞’，此非曹孟德之诗乎？西望夏口，东望武昌，山川相缪，郁乎苍苍，此非孟德之困于周郎者乎？方其破荆州，下江陵，顺流而东也，舳舻千里，旌旗蔽空，酾酒临江，横槊赋诗，固一世之雄也，而今安在哉？
I grew solemn, straightened my robe, and asked the guest: “Why does the music sound so?” The guest replied: “‘The moon is bright, stars few; crows and magpies fly south’—is this not a poem by Cao Cao? Looking west to Xiakou, east to Wuchang, mountains and rivers wind together, lush and blue—was this not where Cao Cao was trapped by Zhou Yu? When he captured Jingzhou, took Jiangling, and sailed east with the current, his fleet stretched a thousand li, banners blotting out the sky. He poured wine facing the river, wielded his spear and chanted poetry—truly a hero of his age. But where is he now?”
况吾与子渔樵于江渚之上，侣鱼虾而友麋鹿，驾一叶之扁舟，举匏樽以相属。寄蜉蝣于天地，渺沧海之一粟。哀吾生之须臾，羡长江之无穷。挟飞仙以遨游，抱明月而长终。知不可乎骤得，托遗响于悲风。”
“何况 you and I, fishing and chopping wood on river islets, keeping company with fish and shrimp, befriending deer. We sail a tiny boat, raising gourd cups to toast each other. We are like mayflies in the universe, a grain of sand in the vast sea. I grieve for the brevity of our lives, envying the Yangtze’s endless flow. I wish to ride with flying immortals, embracing the moon forever. Knowing this cannot be quickly attained, I entrust the lingering melody to the mournful wind.”
苏子曰：“客亦知夫水与月乎？逝者如斯，而未尝往也；盈虚者如彼，而卒莫消长也。盖将自其变者而观之，则天地曾不能以一瞬；自其不变者而观之，则物与我皆无尽也，而又何羡乎！且夫天地之间，物各有主，苟非吾之所有，虽一毫而莫取。
I said: “Guest, do you know the water and the moon? The flowing water seems to pass, yet never truly departs; the moon waxes and wanes, yet never grows or diminishes. From the perspective of change, heaven and earth vanish in a moment; from the perspective of constancy, all things and I are eternal. What is there to envy? Moreover, in heaven and earth, all things have their owners. If something is not mine, not even a hair’s breadth should I take.”
惟江上之清风，与山间之明月，耳得之而为声，目遇之而成色，取之无禁，用之不竭，是造物者之无尽藏也，而吾与子之所共适。”
“Only the river’s clear wind and the mountain’s bright moon—caught by the ear as sound, met by the eye as color—can be taken without restriction, used without exhaustion. This is nature’s infinite treasure, shared by you and me.”
客喜而笑，洗盏更酌。肴核既尽，杯盘狼籍。相与枕藉乎舟中，不知东方之既白。
The guest smiled with joy, washed the cups, and refilled them. When the snacks and fruit were gone, cups and plates lay in disarray. We leaned against each other in the boat, unaware that the east had already whitened with dawn.