Writings

  • 'The Borderland' by Rabindranath Tagore

    8

    One by one the lamps on the stage blow out,
    The meeting place empties, and a dark stain
    Blots out my dream-images like deep sleep,
    Hushes my mind like a raised forefinger.  The guise
    In which I have all along projected myself,
    Since the curtain first rose, seems suddenly
    Futile.  The various marks of my individuality,
    Embellished in many colors for the multitude,
    Are obliterated; and I look into my depths
    And am astonished – as is the boundless sky
    When at the close of the day, at sunset’s obsequies,
    It gazes at earth’s darkling landscapes and is awed
    By the luminous self-projection of its stars.

  • Some poems by Wang Wei

    This poem is by Saigyo, the Japanese medieval poet extraordinaire:

     michinobe ni

    shimizu nagaruru

    yanagi kage

    shibashi tate koso

    tachidomaritsu

    Stopping off,

    Next to a quietly flowing stream

    In the willow’s shade.

    I said, ‘Just a while’

    Stopping, standing there

    Still.

    These short poems by Wang Wei, the Buddha Poet of the Chinese Tang Dynasty.  They contain veiled references to Buddhist ideas, such as sunyata – the essential ‘emptiness’, or non-substantiality when not viewed through the prism of human conceptualization of reality.  They are essentially symbolic meditations on the nature of reality.  I have tried to keep parallelism between couplets when I think it may be important.

    In the Mountain – Wang Wei

    In Bramble Stream, white stones jut out

    Cold weather; red leaves are sparse

    The Mountain     road, originally, has   Nothing   of    Rain

     The Sky’s     greenery    wets                My                  Robe

     

    Bamboo Grove

    Alone I sit, amidst a dark bamboo grove.

    I strum the lute and make another long whistle

    This Deep Forest,  which no man can       Know

    The Bright Moon comes, and together we Shine.

     

    Empty mountain, No       Sight Of        Man

    But one can hear  Men’s Chattering Sounds

    Returning              Shadows enter the deep forest

    Returning again to Shine   upon    the green moss.

    My interpretation:  Even in a secluded place, the ‘men’s voices’ return, you cannot run from the cares of the world.  Like the moss, upon which the sun returns to shine every day and the shadows obscure, a person’s mind lies in the coordinates of reality to where it has been conditioned and must suffer the cares and voices which it has been conditioned to hear

    Mount Chung-Nan 

    Taiyi Peak approaches the capital

    Mountains linking till the edge of the sea

    The white clouds, glancing back  -  meeting

    A green haze, entering and looking – nothing

    The divided lands round Middle peak, changing

    Shade and shine on all the valleys,       changing

    Wishing for a place where one might stay

    Across the river, call for the woodsman.

     

    Villa at the Foot of Mount Chungnan – Wang Wei

    Middle years: one with the Way

    Late years: a home in the Southern mountainside

    I go off often on solitary walks.

    These scenes, known only to me.

    Walking to the source of the stream,

    Sitting, watching the clouds rise up

    Sometimes a meeting with an old woodsman

    We talk, laugh not knowing when to return.

  • River Song, Night in the Tower

    River Song

    by Li Bai

    Magnolia oars; a spice-wood sea boat

    Jade flutes and gold pipes; from end to end

    Gorgeous wine in bottles, a thousand pecks

    Carrying dancing-girls; following waves: going, staying…

    The Immortal Man        waits            to Ride the Yellow Crane

    A     Sea      Traveller’s absent mind Follows     White Seagulls

    Ch’u P’ing’s   Poetry hangs on the           Sun    and     Moon

    Ch’u King      Terrace turned to empty    Mountains and Hills

    Impulse and intoxication make fall my pen, shaking the          Five Peaks

    Poem done, laughing proud, rising above the Hermit Land of Blue Coves

    Gain, Fame, Wealth, Nobility – if long lasted so

    The Han River would still to the Northwest flow.

    I have put this poem into the shape of a ship, as much as possible because I have a  feeling that Chinese poems about towers and ships and such are using the  congruence between the rectangular shape of the poem itself and the rectangular shape of the place of the poet’s standpoint or perspective as a device to play with spatiality.  Although the poet is in a boat, a single perspective, his mind floats all over.  It drifts freely from place to place, from time to time in a way that suggests the illusory nature of our concept of time and space – a framework which is imposed on raw reality by our mind.  The gap between imagination, myth and physical reality is also done away with.  The poet’s imagination has the power to make mountains tremble.

    The last two lines seem to both deny and celebrate human cares and ambitions.  They are merely orientations we use in the world, as is Northwest – but we are still carried along by them.  If we must be carried along by them and by the never-ending stream of thoughts and visions, surely we should do so, not by relinquishing  – retiring to be with the hermits of Blue Cove – but by embracing the energies of the world in an unattached, celebratory way.

    阁夜

    杜甫

    岁暮阴阳催短景, 天涯霜雪霁寒霄。

    五更鼓角声悲壮, 三峡星河影动摇。

    野哭千家闻战伐, 夷歌数处起渔樵。

    卧龙跃马终黄土, 人事音书漫寂寥。

    Night In The Tower by Du Fu

    The year’s dusk, forces of Ying and Yang hurry in the short days
    At the sky’s edge, frost and snow make clear the cold night

    Fifth  Watch:     Drums and  Horns   Sound  a Disheartening  Valor
    AtThree Gorges, the Riverof Stars’s  Shadow  Moves,     Trembles

    TheWildsWeep- from a ThousandHomes,Hearing War andConflict
    Barbarian  Songs – from    Various  Places   Rise  Fishermen and Woodcutters

    General Leaping Dragon, Lord Leaping Horse ended up as yellow dust.
    Human affairs, messages and letters: O, let silence…

    Here the forces of nature are compared to the forces which guide human affairs and ambitions.  Cosmic forces, Ying and Yang, guide two armies to oppose one another, just as leads the poet to be moved to awe by the sight of the Milky Way, just as the sun causes men to rise from their beds.  The natural world and the forces of ‘civilized society’ are represented by a series of parallelisms in the middle couplets,  chosen to have many possible interpretations in the original.

    At the conclusion, it is as though although the poet understands the inexorability of these forces and that all things must pass, but he is sometimes led by the cruelties of war to wish for silence, wish for the whole damn dance to cease completely.

  • The Brocade Zither

    The Brocade Zither

    by Li Shangyin

    The 50-stringed zither has a sound too baffling to comprehend and this
    Has no reason.
    For each string, a bridge, each bridge, a resonance
    – ah!  How I long for the flowering years.
    When…
    Master Zhuangzhi loses himself in dawn dreams, dreaming that he is a butterfly, awaking to think he still is –
    When…
    The Wang Emperor who, out of shame, entrusts his spring heart to the cuckoo bird.
    When…
    Pearls, waxing and waning with the moon, are the tears of the sea people
    And the warmth of the sun makes smoke rise from Indigo Fields of Jade.
    And, like that smoke, these landscapes,
    This feeling: you can wait for it to become memory
    Only, at that time, it was already bewildering.

    錦瑟無端五十弦,一弦一柱思華年。
    莊生曉夢迷蝴蝶,望帝春心托杜鵑。
    滄海月明珠有淚,藍田日暖玉生煙。
    此情可待成追憶,只是當時已惘然。

    This is a very liberal translation of one of my favorite poems by Li Shangyin (813-58).  I’ve added quite a few things to clarify the poem though of course, through clarifying, I add my own interpretation.  The problem with more literal translations is I think that that, outside of its cultural context, the poem is too obscure.  For example, in the original it says only ‘the Zhuangzhi scholar lost in dawn dreams butterfly.’  The poet would have assumed that his readers would know that this refers to they myth of Zhuangzhi dreaming he is a butterfly so vividly that he awoke to wonder if he still was.  Most people reading an English translation will not, so I think it is fair to put in additions like these to elucidate the myths that are alluded to.

    The use of Chinese myths and the nature of Chinese  poetry writing (which does require temporal indicators in its grammar) causes an additional level of de-centralizing, a play of time, between the present of the poet perceiver and the timeless realm of myth which I have tried to re-create in the translation by interpolating ‘when’ and playing around with tense.  More than anything however, this is to try to re-create some of the playfulness of the original.

    The final imagery of the smoke, readers would very likely have associated with a comment by Dai Shulun (732-89) who said that scenes of poetry are like the mist that rises from the fine jade of Lantian (Indigo Fields) in the warmth of the sun – they can be gazed from afar but cannot be placed immediately before the eyes.  I think that without putting something between this image and the final couplet it is too abstruse so I added ‘and, like that smoke, these landscapes’.

    The central theme of the poem appears to be transcendence and transition, of nothing being solid or fixed or quite how it seems, least of all thoughts themselves.  The idea of the 50-stringed zither – as well as making a comment on the baffling complexity of existence itself – seems to me probably to relate to the idea, salient in the strongly Buddhist cultural consciousness of Tang, that one consequence leads on inevitably to another (called Dependent Origination in Buddhist thought).  Life, our minds, consciousness has too many strings and before we can understand the sounds of one resonance, it has already led onto another, a new thought or sensations, all of which, like the myths in this poem have a transcendental quality – they are neither quite this nor quite that, they slip away always from the strictures of our conceptual grasp.  I’ve added ‘each bridge, a resonance’ to clarify the link between the zither sounds and the myths that they engender.

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