满江红 Man Hong Jiang Poetry Collection: 冬至 Winter Solstice by 范成大 Fan Chengda

Translation by me. Pinyin and Jyutping provided below.  

寒谷春生，熏叶气、玉筒吹谷。

Hán gǔ chūnshēng, xūn yè qì, yù tǒng chuīgǔ.

hon4 guk1 ceon1 saang1 ，fan1 jip6 hei3 、juk6 tung2 ceoi1 guk1 。
[winter][valley][spring][growth], [perfume][leaves][air], [jade][tube][blow][valley]

Spring sprouts in the cold winter; the aroma of new leaves fills in the valley like a flute sound.

新阳后、便占新岁，吉云清穆。

Xīn yáng hòu, biàn zhàn xīn suì, jí yún qīng mù.

san1 joeng4 hau6 、bin6 zim3 san1 seoi3 ，gat1 wan4 cing1 muk6 。

[new][sun][after], [then][consitute][[new year]], [[colourful clouds]][clear][serene]

After the sunrise, comes the new year in a sky of calmly floating clouds. 

休把心情关药裹，但逢节序添诗轴。

Xiū bǎ xīnqíng guān yào guǒ, dàn féng jié xù tiān shī zhóu.

jau1 baa2 sam1 cing4 gwaan1 joek6 gwo2 ，daan6 fung4 zit3 zeoi6 tim1 si1 zuk6 。

[Stop][grasp][[mood]][about][medicine][bundle], [but][upon][solar term][then][compose][poem][scroll]

Stop thinking on illness and medicine; but write a poem at the turn of the new solar term.

笑强颜、风物岂非痴，终非俗。

Xiào qiǎngyán, fēngwù qǐfēi chī, zhōng fēi sú.

siu3 koeng4 ngaan4 、fung1 mat6 hei2 fei1 ci1 ，zung1 fei1 zuk6 。

[smile][force][face], [[scenery]][[would it not be]][silly], [end][not][routine]

Even if I must force a smile; how silly not to marvel at nature to forget one's daily routine.

清昼永，佳眠熟。门外事，何时足?

Qīng zhòu yǒng, jiā mián shú. Mén wàishì, hé shí zú.

cing1 zau3 wing5 ，gaai1 min4 suk6 。mun4 ngoi6 si6 ，ho4 si4 zuk1 。

[clear][day][forever], [good][sleep][deep]. [door][outside][matters], [what][time][enough]?

The day is long and I slept well. But when will the matters of the world be satisfactory?

且团栾同社，笑歌相属。

Qiě tuán luán tóngshè, xiào gē xiāng zhǔ.

ce2 tyun4 lyun4 tung4 se5 ，siu3 go1 soeng1 suk6 。

[For now][gather][round][same][society], [smile][sing][together][affliliate]

For now, it's better to gather with like-minded friends, together we'll laugh and sing in harmony.

著意调停云露酿，从头检举梅花曲。

Zhuóyì tiáotíng yún lù niàng, cóngtóu jiǎnjǔ méihuā qū.

zyu3 ji3 diu6 ting4 wan4 lou6 joeng6 ，cung4 tau4 gim2 geoi2 mui4 faa1 kuk1 。

[[With care]][blend][stop][[Yunlu]][wine], [[from the start]][examine][cite][[plum blossom]][songs]

We'll make good yunlu wine and study the ancient musical notations.

纵不能将醉作生涯，休拘束。

Zòng bùnéng jiāng zuì zuò shēngyá, xiū jūshù.

zung3 bat1 nang4 zoeng3 zeoi3 zok3 saang1 ngaai4 ，jau1 keoi1 cuk1 。

[Even if][not][able][take][drunkeness][to be][[career]], [cease][constrain][bind]

Even though I can’t be drunk all the time, I am free at this moment.

Author: Fan Chengda范成 (1126–1193 AD), courtesy name Zhineng 致能, was a Chinese geographer, poet, and politician of the Song Dynasty. He served as a government official and was an academic authority in geography. His written work falls under the literary category of 'travel record literature' (yóujì wénxué), a narrative and prose style approach to writing about one's travel experiences. 

陸雲《谷風》| The Valley Wind by Lu Yün

 

I've seen this poem making the rounds in poetry circles in English with the translation by Arthur Waley. As talented as Arthur Waley is, translations are always an unrequited love letter to the original poem, especially when trying to translate between Chinese and another language. I include below romanisation in pinyin for mandarin and jyutping for cantonese, as these poems always tend to hold the better rhyme in Cantonese.

Living in retirement beyond the world
Silently enjoying isolation

閒居外物，靜言樂幽。

Xiánjū wài wù, jìng yán lè yōu. 

haan4 geoi1 ngoi6 mat6 ，zing6 jin4 lok6 jau1 。

I pull the rope of my door tighter
And stuff my window with roots and ferns.

繩樞增結，甕牖綢繆。

Shéng shū zēng jié, wèng yǒu chóumóu. 

sing4 syu1 zang1 git3，ung3 jau5 cau4 mau4 。

My spirit is tuned to the spring season
At the fall of the year there is autumn in my heart

和神當春，清節為秋。

Hé shén dāng chūn, qīng jié wèi qiū. 

wo4 san4 dong1 ceon1 ，cing1 zit3 wai4 cau1 。

Thus imitating cosmic changes
My cottage becomes a universe.

天地則爾，戶庭已悠。

Tiāndì zé ěr, hù tíng yǐ yōu.

tin1 dei6 zak1 ji5 ，wu6 ting4 ji5 jau4 。


Image is calligraphy by Xia Guoxian, source here. 

杜甫《陪鄭廣文遊何將軍山林十首》Du Fu Ten Verses (1 to 4)

This is a translation of the first 4 verses of 陪鄭廣文遊何將軍山林十首 (Ten Verses on Accompanying Zheng Guang-Wen Travelling in General He's Mountain Groves), by the renowned Tang dynasty poet 杜甫 (Dufu).

This poem is composed of ten verses, although each can be read as an individual poem. I will try to offer a translation that best reflects the grammar in use, although as this sometimes makes for a clunky English translation, I will do my best to offer another idiomatic English poetic rendering as well.


其一 Part 1
不識南塘路，今知第五橋。
I am not familiar with the Southern Well Road,  [塘 is a manmade well or reservoir]
But now I recognise the fifth bridge.
名園依綠水，野竹上青霄。
Famous gardens border green waters,
Wild bamboo reaches up into the clear sky.
谷口舊相得，濠梁同見招。
Mr Gu Kou, a long time ago we got to know one another [Gu Kou is another name for Zheng Guang-Wen, the name in the title of the poem]
To Hao Liang, together we have been summoned. [Hao Liang is a famous lake in China with many cultural connotations, as it is the lake where Zhuangzi had a the conversation about the fish. Hao Liang could also be another name for General He, it is not clear]
平生為幽興，未惜馬蹄遙。
All my life I have been inspired solitude [为X兴 to be inspired by X]
And have never regretted my horses footsteps off into the distance.

I am not familiar with the Southern Well Road,
But now I recognise the fifth bridge.
Famous gardens border green waters,
Wild bamboo reaches up into the clear sky. 
Mr Gu Kou and I got to know one another a long time ago,
And together we have been summoned to Hao Liang. 
All my life I have been inspired solitude,  
And have never regretted my horse's treaded route into the distance.


其二 Part 2
百頃風潭上，千章夏木清。
One hundred qing, the wind blows over deep pools, [頃 an area of land equivalent to 6.67 hectares]
One thousand trees, the summer woods are cool. [章 means trunks, representing trees]
卑枝低結子，接葉暗巢鶯。
Low branches drop down with fruit,
Joined leaves hide nested orioles.
鮮鯽銀絲膾，香芹碧澗羹。
Fresh carp, silver slivers of meat,
Fragrant celery, the broth of a jade mountain stream.
翻疑柁樓底，晚飯越中行。
I wonder, to be below the rudder house, [翻疑 to turn over one's doubts, is a binome meaning 'to wonder'. 柁 is a rudder 樓 means building, so 柁樓 is the small building constructed over the rudder at the back of the boat for the captain to steer the boat in]
Eating dinner travelling through Yue.

One hundred qing, the wind blows over deep pools, 
One thousand trees, the summer woods are cool.
Low hanging branches droop with fruit,
Dense leaves hide nested orioles.
Fresh carp, silver slivers of meat,
Fragrant celery, the broth of a jade mountain stream. 
I wonder what it is like to be in the rudder house, [I'm really not sure about this line, if anyone has better versions, please comment below]
Eating dinner travelling through Yue. 


其三 Part 3
萬里戎王子，何年別月支？
Ten thousand li, the rong wang zi, [戎王子 is a plant, it doesn't seem to have any special properties]
When did you leave Yue Zhi? [月支 land to the west of the Tang dominion, called Tokhara]
異花来絕域，滋蔓匝清池。
Strange flowers come from foreign lands, [絕域 means foreign lands, but 絕 means to cut off, so the real meaning is more of a cut off, isolated land]
It spreads and grows, surrounding the clear pool.
漢使徒空到，神農竟不知。
The Han emissary arrives back in vain,
The God of Farming somehow does not know (of the wang rong zi).  [神農 the god of farming and agriculture, said to have invented farming techniques for China, also called a sage]
露翻兼雨打，開坼漸離披。
Dew rolls and the rain strikes,
It cracks open, and gradually departs and spreads. [both these lines refer to the wang rong zi]

Ten thousand li away from the rong wang zi plant,
When did you leave Tokhara?
Strange flowers come from isolated lands,
It spreads and grows, surrounding the clear pond.
The Han emissary arrives back empty handed,
And even the God of Farming does not know of it. 
Dew rolls over and the rain strikes the wang rong zi,
The flower cracks open, but gradually petals fall and cover the ground. 


其四 Part 4
旁舍連高竹，疏籬帶晚花。
The side house joins with tall bamboo, [旁舍 by this he is implying very humble living, not the main house by a small house by the side, almost like a shed, or an outbuilding]
The sparse fence bears evening flowers.
碾渦深沒馬，藤蔓曲藏蛇。
Mill whirlpool, in the depths the horse sinks, [碾 means to crush, and also means a mill]
Wisteria grows, in the bends snakes hide.
[Scholars don't really know what these two morbid lines are about, but speculate Dufu is mentioning some traumatic period in his life]
詞賦工無益，山林跡未賒。
Words and verse, this work is without profit,
Mountains and forests have never been far away.
盡捻書籍賣，來問爾東家。
I touch everything, sell off my books,
I have come to question your landlord.

Bamboo grows around the outbuilding,
The loosely thatched fence bears evening flowers.
The horse drowns in the depths of the whirlpool by the mill,
Snakes hide in the curves of winding wisteria. 
Words and verse, there is no profit from this work,
I have never been far from mountains and forests.
So I take my books and sell them all,
I come in search of the landlord. 

Yongfu Lament 永福路换歌

The hands of a Chinese construction worker who left home aged 12 to support his family

Yongfu Lament 永福路换歌

举起皴裂如砂纸般的双手，
I raise these hands chapped into sandpaper,
昏暗的灯光下我试图读懂掌心的纹路，
Under the dim light I'll try to read the lines across the palms,
明白他们告诉我缘何我已抵达这里，
Knowing they tell me how I came here,
这跋涉如何赋予一个男人梦想，
How does this toil give a man dreams,
又或是给了我自己。
Or perhaps give me myself.  

但是不久我就厌倦了，
But soon I'll tire of this,
不久我就搓着双手，
Soon I'll just wring my hands together,
拼命有把粗糙搓着，
Desperately using the coarseness to slough themselves away,
忘掉那些纵横交错的线路。
Forget those crisscrossing interwoven lines.
仿佛这样能把自己带回家，
As if this could take me back home,
但却只是暖和了点儿罢了。
But it only warms me a little.

One text we had to translate in class claimed that China's development is built on the back of China's migrant workers, who are called 'peasant workers' in mandarin, and this poem is no doubt from their experience. Their numbers are estimated at 274 million, and they are treated as second class citizens in the cities they migrate to work in thanks to the Hukou system. This system identifies migrant workers as belonging to rural areas, therefore they are denied many social benefits when the enter cities. Children of migrant workers who accompany their parents to cities are not allowed into the state owned schools.

However, a recent report by Bloomberg (China's 274 million migrant workers are older and more expensive) has found that migrant workers wages are on the rise.

陶淵明《桃花源記》An Account of Peach Blossom Spring by Tao Yuanming

This is an extremely famous story that all Chinese people will have in their collective unconscious, much like western nursery rhymes or fairy tales in the UK and other English speaking nations. It tells the story of a fisherman who stumbles upon shangri-la by accident, and after leaving, because he tells people of its existence, neither he nor anyone else can find their way back there again. Please note, my translation sometimes adds to or omits parts of the Classical Chinese to produce more flowing English and to capture a greater sense of the original meaning, so should not be taken as exact. 

晉太元中，武陵人，捕魚為業。緣溪行，忘路之遠近。忽逢桃花林，夾岸數百步，中無雜樹，芳草鮮美，落英繽紛。漁人甚異之，復前行，欲窮其林。

In the Taiyuan year of the Eastern Jin dynasty, there was a man from Wuling who caught fish for a living. One day, he was following the river creek when he forgot how far along the river he had come. He suddenly came across a wood of peach blossom trees, lining either side of the bank for several hundred metres. There were no other types of trees among peach trees. The grass was fresh and delicate, and the fallen peach blossoms lay thick and colourful upon the ground. The fisherman was greatly astonished by this place and pressed on, wanting to reach the end of the grove.

林盡水源，便得一山，山有小口，仿佛若有光。便舍船，從口入。初極狹，纏通人。復行數十步，豁然開朗。土地平曠，屋舍儼然，有良田﹑美池，桑﹑竹之屬。

The grove came to an end at the source of the river, where he also discovered a mountain. In the mountain was a small opening, and there seemed to be a light inside it. Thereupon he left his boat and went into the opening. At first the tunnel was extremely narrow, with only just enough room for a man to pass through. He continued on for a few dozen steps, when suddenly the tunnel opened up, revealing a bright and clear view. The land was flat and vast, the houses were all neatly laid out. There were fertile fields, beautiful ponds, mulberry trees and bamboo. 

阡陌交通，雞犬相聞。其中往來種作，男女衣著，悉如外人。黃發垂髫，並怡然自樂。見漁人，乃大驚，問所從來。具答之。便要還家，設酒、殺雞、作食。

Paths crisscrossed over fields. The crows and barks of the chickens and dogs mingled with each other. In this place, people were coming and going, busy with planting and growing crops. The clothing of the men and women were exactly like those of the people living in the outside world. Their yellow hair [unsure if this means they are blonde, or the have some kind of decoration in their hair] dangled in locks, they were all carefree and merry together. When they saw the fisherman, they were greatly startled and asked him where he had come from. He answered all of their questions [OR: "He answered their questions in detail" the 具 makes this ambiguous and could have a sense of both meanings]. Thereupon he was invited to their houses, where they prepared wines, killed a chicken and made food.

村中聞有此人，咸來問訊。自雲：“先世避秦時亂，率妻子、邑人來此絕境，不復出焉，遂與外人間隔。”問今是何世，乃不知有漢，無論魏晉。此人一一為具言所聞，皆嘆惋。

When the people of the village heard about the fisherman [此人 lit. this person], they all came to make enquiries. The villagers said, “Our ancestors fled to avoid the chaos of the Qin period, leading their wives, children and neighbours to this isolated place, and they never left it. And so we were cut off from the outside world.” They asked him what age is was now, they didn’t even know of the Han dynasty, let alone the Wei or Jin dynasties. The fisherman told them one by one in detail of what he knew, all of the villagers sighed with regret. 

余人各復延至其家，皆出酒食。停數日，辭去。此中人語雲：“不足為外人道也。”

Each of the remaining people also invited the fisherman to their homes, and everyone brought out wine and food. After the fisherman had stayed for number of days, he bade farewell and departed. The people of the village said, “We’re not worth mentioning to the outside world.” [OR “It’s best if outsiders don’t know about us.” Today the phrase "不足為外人道也" means "this is best kept between us."]

既出，得其船，便扶向路，處處志之。及郡下，詣太守，說如此。太守即遣人隨其往，尋向所志，遂迷，不復得路。

As soon as he left their land, he found his boat and followed the same route back home, leaving markers all along the way. Once he reached his home prefecture, he visited the Governor [OR: Grand Administrator] and related the whole story to him. The Governor immediately dispatched people to follow the fisherman’s route and to search for the markers he had left. But they became lost, and could not find the road again. 

南陽劉子驥，高尚士也，聞之，欣然規往。未果，尋病終。后遂無問津者。

In Nanyang there was a noble gentleman called Liu Ziji, who upon hearing about the Peach Blossom Spring, happily made plans to go there. However, he did not succeed, as he soon fell ill and died. Henceforth there has been no one wanting to pursue the matter further (問津 make enquiries). 

The Artist 艺术家

The Artist 艺术家

一个红卫兵打死了
我的叔公
在四十二年
以前的
昨夜。

A Red Guard shot
my great-uncle
last night,
forty-years
ago. 

这发生在
太阳刚开始向
层层叠叠又
沙沙作响的春天的树丛
诉说纹理时。 

It happened as
the sun started to
speak veins into
the spring thicket
whistling through, layer by layer. 

红卫兵开枪了
两次射向他的病榻
一次在腿上
有一次
在他的腹部

The Red Guard opened fire
twice toward his sickbed,
once in the leg,
and again
in the stomach. 

他 开了腔的腹部
涌出挑衅
在地上
一巴掌煽出的
深红， 仅仅 

His opened stomach
poured forth defiance
onto the ground
slapping out
dark crimson, only 

凝结又被掩埋
在阴暗
泥泞的土地，
红卫兵抽了只烟，
扔了牌， 离开。 

To congeal and be covered
in the shade
on some muddy ground.
The guards smoked a few,
played cards, and left.  

妹妹用膝盖
将自己
搜出橱柜
她呆立了
许久  才能去拾捡 

His sister used her knees
to pull herself
out from the cupboard
she stood transfixed
for a long time
only then able to gather

他所写的诗句
被红卫兵撕碎的
小说稿本
和他
用偷来的一撮鬓毛 

The verses he had written,
ripped up by the guard
the outlines of stories
and his
stolen tufts of paint brushes 

绘成的四美人图，
红卫兵说这是大毒草
毒害人民群众
于是那在烈焰中燃着的诗文，笔墨，
字画，烧断了这民族
的脊梁。

He used to paint the Four Beauties of China
the Red Guard said they were poisonous weeds,
corrupting the people,
among the raging flames burned his poetry, brush, ink,
paintings, consuming the nation's
backbone.

This poem was from an anthology of modern Chinese poetry sitting in a Coffee shop in Qingdao. It just so happened to be the fourth of June, anniversary of the Tiananmen Square protests. Reading the poem "The Artist", it reminded me of the healing powers of art.

I was well aware of the world's spotlight gazing on China over the anniversary date, most international news sites carried some historical summary and a report on the vigil held in Hong Kong. But the majority Chinese themselves didn't notice. The day passes like any other. It's almost as if the Tiananmen massacre has come to mean more to the outside world than it does to China, where there is only a vacuum of information about the event.

Words thrown into the vacuum this year included 'big yellow duck' (after the famous image of tankman was altered so he faced down three giant yellow ducks), 'black shirt' (as mainland Chinese marking the date surreptitiously wear black) and '6 4'(short for June 4th).

History, no matter how ugly, leaves an indelible mark upon the face of a nation. The CCP have put a plaster over the top of Tiananmen and hope that everyone will forget it was put there. I hope one day it will be possible to fill this void with poetry, film and art. Art can help people reconcile with the Tiananmen massacre on their own terms and begin the healing process as a nation. One day Tiananmen might be looked upon as a lesson never to be repeated, rather than an unsightly stain to be swept under the carpet.

Listening to Mirrors 镜听

This is a translation of the short story 镜听 from the Qing compendium 聊斋志异, which introduces the interesting custom of listening to mirrors. It also happened to be Emperor Qianlong's favourite story. The name of the collection of short stories roughly translates to 'Strange Tales of the Drawing Room', and is known as Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio.

Listening to mirrors was a type of prognostication, as mirrors were regarded as magical objects. On the night before Spring Festival, Chinese would pray to their ancestors, asking a question which they later hoped to be answered. Then they would light a stove, and fill a pot with water. A spoon would be dropped into the boiling water, then they would go in the direction indicated by the spoon. They would go the nearest door, carrying a mirror, and secretly listen to people passing outside. The first sentence overheard would be the answer to their question.

镜听

益都郑氏兄弟，皆文学士。大郑早知名，父母尝过爱之，又因子并及其妇；二郑落拓，不甚为父母所欢，遂恶次妇，至不齿礼。冷暖相形，颇存芥蒂。次妇每谓二郑：“等男子耳，何遂不能为妻子争气？”遂摈弗与同宿。于是二郑感愤，勤心锐思，亦遂知名。父母稍稍优顾之，然终杀于兄。

Yì dū zhèng shì xiōngdì, jiē wénxué shì. Dà zhèng zǎo zhīmíng, fùmǔ chángguò ài zhī, yòu yīnzǐ bìng jí qí fù; èr zhèng luòtà, bù shèn wèi fùmǔ suǒ huan, suì è cì fù, zhì bùchǐ lǐ. Lěngnuǎn xiāngxíng, pō cún jièdì. Cì fù měi wèi èr zhèng:“Děng nánzǐ ěr, hé suì bùnéng wéi qīzi zhēngqì?” Suì bìn fú yǔ tóngsù. Yúshì èr zhèng gǎn fèn, qín xīn ruì sī, yì suì zhīmíng. Fùmǔ shāoshāo yōu gù zhī, rán zhōng shā yú xiōng.

In Yidu County, Shandong Province, the Zheng family had two sons, both were scholars. The elder son achieved fame at an early age so his parents favoured him and his wife. The second son was disappointed as his parents were not fond of him. They were also mean to the second son's wife and weren't in the least bit polite to her. As the parents were warm to one son and cold to the other, a distance grew between the sons. The younger son's wife said to him, "You are both the same type of man, why is it that I am the wife with no respect (face)?" Thereupon, she refused to sleep with her husband. Consequently, the second son was motivated to be hardworking, he changed his ways and became studious and diligent, and finally he also achieved fame. His parents showed a little bit more regard towards him, but he was still not treated as well as the elder son. (杀 in this case does not mean kill, it means 不如)


次妇望夫甚切，是岁大比，窃于除夜以镜听卜。有二人初起，相推为戏，云：“汝也凉凉去！”妇归，凶吉不可解，亦置之。闱后，兄弟皆归。时暑气犹盛，两妇在厨下炊饭饷耕，其热正苦。忽有报骑登门，报大郑捷，母入厨唤大妇曰：“大男中式矣！汝可凉凉去。”次妇忿恻，泣且炊。俄又有报二郑捷者，次妇力掷饼杖而起，曰：“侬也凉凉去！”此时中情所激，不觉出之于口；既而思之，始知镜听之验也。

Cì fù wàng fu shén qiè, shì suì dà bǐ, qiè yú chúyè yǐ jìng tīng bo. Yǒu èr rén chū qǐ, xiāng tuī wèi xì, yún:“Rǔ yě liáng liáng qù!” Fù guī, xiōng jí bùkějiě, yì zhì zhī. Wéi hòu, xiōngdì jiē guī. Shí shǔqì yóu shèng, liǎng fù zài chú xià chuī fàn xiǎng gēng, qí rè zhèng kǔ. Hū yǒu bào qí dēngmén, bào dà zhèng jié, mǔ rù chú huàn dà fù yuē:“Dà nán zhōngshì yǐ! Rǔ kě liáng liáng qù.” Cì fù fèn cè, qì qiě chuī. É yòu yǒu bào èr zhèng jié zhě, cì fù lì zhì bǐng zhàng ér qǐ, yuē:“Nóng yě liáng liáng qù!” Cǐ shí zhōng qíng suǒ jī, bù jué chū zhī yú kǒu; jì'ér sī zhī, shǐ zhī jìng tīng Zhī yàn yě.

The second son's wife was extremely eager to see her husband be successful. As there would be Imperial Exams (大比) held that year, on the eve of Spring Festival she secretly listened a mirror to help divine the outcome. The wife had only just gone outside when she heard two people playing a game of pushing one another, when one said, "You should go and cool down!" The wife went home, but she could not tell if the sentence was favourable or not, and so shelved the matter. After the exams, the brothers both returned. At that time, the summer heat was still particularly strong, and both wives were in the kitchen preparing a meal for the workers. The heat was almost unbearable. Suddenly a messenger arrived at the gate, informing the family that the elder son had passed the exam. The mother entered the kitchen and said to the elder son's wife, "my eldest passed the exam, you can go and cool down." The second son's wife was angry and sad, she cried but kept on cooking. Suddenly, another messenger arrived announcing the second son had also been successful. The second wife threw down her rolling pin and said, "I (侬) am going to go and cool down too!" At that moment, she was overwhelmed with emotions, and did not notice what she had said. But later when she was thinking, she realised this was the outcome shown by the mirror.


异史氏曰：“贫穷则父母不子，有以也哉！庭帏之中，固非愤激之地；然二郑妇激发男儿，亦与怨望无赖者殊不同科。投杖而起，真千古之快事也！”

Yì shǐ shì yuē:“Pínqióng zé fùmǔ bù zi, yǒu yǐ yězāi! Tíng wéi zhī zhōng, gù fēi fènjī zhī dì; rán èr zhèng fù jīfā nán'ér, yì yǔ yuànwàng wúlài zhě shū bùtóng kē. Tóu zhàng ér qǐ, zhēn qiāngǔ Zhī kuài shì yě!”

The author (who refers to himself as 'the historian of the odd', or 'the other historian') adds, "if you are poor, then your parents will not regard you as their son; this really does happen! In the story, the rousing part was the second son's wife inspiring her husband, which is not the same as when normal people argue. When she threw down the rolling pin, that really is happiness!"



Wasn't this story a rather odd choice for an Emperor? It lacks grandiose and some of the language it uses is practically vernacular, but Qianlong had a purpose. During the reign of his father, a new wave of taxes came into being that hit the scholarly elite. The scholars were appalled at the idea they would have to pay taxes like the common farmers and merchants, as they saw themselves as completely above the common masses. In anger, scholars and their disciples boycotted the imperial examinations. 

Without applicants to take the exams, the Qing bureaucracy would begin to crumble. While Qianlong was still a prince, he had many contacts in scholarly circles. He would tell them this story as a way to encourage them to sit the exam. Even though the story's main event is the second son passing the examination, it is told from the view of the wife. It depicted how passing the exam affected not only the candidate, but all the people around him. In this case, it gave the wife great happiness and respect. 

Thoughts of Home 乡愁

As I am well past the halfway mark of my year in China I have spent a lot of time thinking about my friends and family back home in England. So, I present a collection of my own translations of Chinese poetry from across the ages focusing on the theme of missing home.

Living by Jiande River 宿建德江 

Meng Hao Ran 孟浩然 680-740

移舟泊烟渚，Yí zhōu pō yān zhǔ

Mooring the boat on a misty bank,

日暮客愁新。Rìmù kè chóu xīn

In the dusk, the traveller dwells anew on his old home.

野旷天低树，Yě kuàng tiān dī shù

The wilderness is vast, the sky hangs below the trees, 

江清月近人。Jiāng qīng yuè jìn rén

The river’s water is so clear, I can touch the moon.

Miscellaneous Poem: You have come from my hometown 杂诗·君自故乡来

Wang Wei 王维 699-759 (other sources say 701-761)

　　

君自故乡来，Jūn zì gùxiāng lái

Since you have come from my old hometown,

应知故乡事。Yīng zhī gùxiāng shì

You should know what is happening there.

来日绮窗前，Lái rì qǐ chuāng qián

On the day you came, passing by my silken window,

寒梅著花未？Hánméizhe huā wèi?

Had the winter plum began to blossom?

9th of the 9th month, thinking of my brothers in the East Mountains 九月九日忆山东兄弟

Wang Wei 王维

独在异乡为异客，Dú zài yìxiāng wèi yì kè

Alone, I am a stranger in a strange land,

每逢佳节倍思亲。 Měi féng jiājié bèi sī qīn

Jia festival comes round again, and I think of my family.

遥知兄弟登高处， Yáo zhī xiōngdì dēnggāo chù

From afar, I know my brothers ascend some high place,

遍插茱萸少一人。Biàn chā zhūyú shǎo yīrén

Casting sticks in prayer, they are missing one person. 

Homesick 乡愁

Guangzhong Yu 余光中 (1928-present)

小时候 Xiǎoshíhou

When I was young,

乡愁是一枚小小的邮票 Xiāngchóu shì yī méi xiǎo xiǎo de yóupiào

My longing for home was as small as a stamp,

我在这头 Wǒ zài zhè tóu

I was at one end,

母亲在那头 Mǔqīn zài nà tóu

My mother at the other.

   

长大后 Zhǎng dà hòu

As I grew,

乡愁是一张窄窄的船票 Xiāngchóu shì yī zhāng zhǎi zhǎi de chuán piào

My longing for home was as thin as a ship’s ticket,

我在这头 Wǒ zài zhè tóu

I was at one end, 

新娘在那头 Xīnniáng zài nà tóu

My bride at the other. 

   

后来啊 Hòulái a

Later in life,

乡愁是一方矮矮的坟墓 Xiāngchóu shì yīfāng ǎi ǎi de fénmù

My longing for home was as shallow as a grave,

我在外头 Wǒ zài wàitou

With me on the outside,

母亲在里头 Mǔqīn zài lǐtou

My mother inside. 

   

而现在 Ér xiànzài

And now,

乡愁是一湾湝的海峡 Xiāngchóu shì yī wān jiē dì hǎixiá

My longing for home is as wide as the Taiwan Straits,

我在这头 Wǒ zài zhè tóu

I am at one end,

大陆在那头 Dàlù zài nà tóu

My motherland at the other.

The Language of Love 爱情的语言

I'll concede Mandarin probably wasn't the first language to pop into your head after reading the title, but for the Chinese, love songs and love poetry go back as far as literature itself. The Classic of Poetry (also known as the Book of Songs, Book of Odes, etc) is the earliest collection of Chinese poems and songs dating from the 10th to 7th century BC. Over half of the 305 poems are categorised as 'Airs of the States', thought to be ancient folk songs. These 'Airs' were shorter and simpler in their composition than the other eulogies and court hymns, but documented the views and everyday lives of the ordinary public. Needless to say love, longing, and courtship were inevitable subject matter for the common people. I'm going to try my hand at translating something more recent than the Classic of Poetry, but I hope I fully convey the depth and feeling of Chinese love poetry. 

炉中煤 A Burning Coal (1920)

郭沫若 by Guo Moruo

Ah, my young maiden! 

I will not disappoint your care, 

In turn you should not betray my attention. 

For the one I love, I will

Burn myself to nothing.

Ah, my young maiden!
You would know my story? 

You would not despise me, the crude black slave I am?

As deep in this black slave's bosom,

Is a heart that burns like fire.　 




Ah, my young maiden! 

I think on my past life, 

At first, I was a useful pillar,  

Later buried underground for many years,  

Until this morning, only now seeing sunlight again.　 

Ah, my young maiden! 

Since I saw the sun's rays again,

I often long for my hometown,

For the one I love, I will

Burn myself to nothing.

一课开花的树 A Tree in Blossom (1980)

席慕蓉 by Xi Murong

How do I make you meet me

At my most beautiful moment? For this

I went before the Buddha, and prayed for 500 years.

I begged him to let us bind as specks of dirt.
　 

But the Buddha turned me into a tree

To grow beside your road.

In the sunshine, carefully opening the blossoms,

Each one is a hope from my former life.
　 

When you walk by I plead that you listen;

My passion to wait for you trembles those leaves  

But when you finally, impassively walk past 

Behind you, falls a friend. (or 'you leave behind a friend')

That isn't a petal, it is my withered heart. 

情死 Love's Death 

徐志摩 by Xu Zhimo

Roses,  an overwhelming host of fragrant red roses, 

like last night's thunderstorm,

It must have been a signal you sent —— such fragile beauty.

Your colour is wine to my eyes, I want to draw nearer,

But I dare not. 

Youth! How many drops of white dew upon your forehead, bursting into colour at dawn.

The smile on your cheeks must be heaven-sent; how pitiful the world  

In its coarseness, unable to have the chance to bloom forever.  

To possess such beauty is your destiny,

I walk closer; your intoxicating colour and redolence subdues 

A soul! I am your captive.

Wherever you smile, I am there trembling,

You have already ascended the peak of life, gazing toward your friends,

A deep pool reflects the sky.  

You stand by the water's edge, and I stand behind you, 

I, your captive.

Here, I smile, while you there tremble. 

Such beauty is the fate of fate.

I clutch you in my hand; I love you, rose!

In colour, smell, form, spirit, beauty, charm —— 

All within my grasp. 

Here, I tremble, and you, you smile. 

Rose! I cannot cope with your passing, the dispersion of your perfume, for I love you! 

Petals, sepals, stamens, thorns, you, and I — 

How happy! 

Intertwined together! Slivers of scattered scarlet, two hands blurred with blood. 

Rose! I love you!

From Tomorrow 从明天起...

With 2013 fast approaching (or upon us, depending on when you read this), now is the time to reflect on the happenings of the past year and set your resolutions for the year ahead. A time to change. 

But, what is it about the changing of the date that makes us think that we can suddenly tackle our entrenched flaws? Some people feel a New Year is a new leaf, that it wipes out the misdeeds of the past and makes it easier to begin again. And everyone around is doing it too; ‘next year I will go to the gym’, ‘next year I will be punctual’, or my own personal foible, ‘next year I will not procrastinate’. And so on and so on. 

Such lists are full of aspirations to become the athletic, organised, and efficient self we feel we could be if we ever put in the effort. Yet, I also feel that setting a New Year’s Resolution gives you a few more days to wallow in justified indolence before the clock strikes midnight. It’s okay if you eat that entire left over chocolate cake now, because you’ll totally work it off when your New Year exercise workout begins. 

Rare is a person who notices their own shortcomings and decides to change it, right then and there. It’s far easier to say, in the New Year, or next week, or tomorrow. Tomorrow is a wonderful place where everything gets done, and of course, you’re also more toned with brighter complexion and a new willpower to avoid tiramisu. 

So before you make your resolutions, if you haven’t already, spare a moment and read this poem by Haizi 海子. A very simplistic poem, it too speaks of wanting to reform oneself, to not overcomplicate things, and to prioritise only what matters in life.

Facing the Sea, with Spring Blossoms

From tomorrow, I will be a happy person.

I will feed the horse, chop the wood, and travel around the world.

From tomorrow, I will care about food and vegetables.

I will have a house facing the sea, and in Spring’s warmth the blossoms will open. 

From tomorrow, I will write to every one of my family,

I will tell them I am happy.

As that carefree lightning bolt told me,

I will tell everyone.

I will give every river and every mountain a fond name.

Strangers, I also wish you happiness,

I wish you a glittering future,

I wish you wedded bliss with your sweetheart,

I wish that in this mortal life you obtain happiness.

I only wish to face the sea, where in Spring’s warmth the blossoms will open.

Perhaps the saddest element of this poem is that Haizi two months after penning it, he committed suicide by lying down on train tracks at the age of 25. As with many artists, recognition and fame was only achieved after his death. He is now regarded as one of the most important post cultural revolution poets. As I was given a compilation of Haizi’s prolific poetry for my birthday, one of my resolutions is to translate them for you.