May

May,
in transparent veins,
green blood cells swim…
May is just this kind of living thing.

May strolls naked through the streets.
In the hills, it breathes in golden hairs.
In the wilderness, it sings in silver light.
Just so, May wanders unseen.

Zhan Bing (詹冰)

Chen Kehua

Saw Chen Kehua (陳克華) at a lecture at Shida recently. He's an interesting fellow, relatively young, a doctor by profession, and openly gay. I won't try to describe the lecture, 'cause I think it'd be hard to describe well why I liked it. Basically though, he was extremely blunt, about many things (including that few in the class had read his work) and it was great. He has a website that is Web 1.0 in the best way. Here's a quick shot at a poem. Though it's relatively simple, I found it pretty hard to translate actually, and the original I think is not quite as "floofy" or "out-there" as maybe my translation is. Does that make any sense? Related notes, the "unbright" in the title has some pretty strong Buddhist implications in the original, and in fact is literally the translation of the word Avidya. Hopefully that factoid will be somewhat enlightening. Okay.

無明之淚 活著　忽而有淚 像與夢有約　但夢終究缺席 我可以遺忘那夢　但失落仍在 我懷抱這失落　於人間求其次 再其次其次其次　其次－－活著 就忽而有淚　但忘了淚的理由 像隱隱明白生　生的侷限與徒然 又毫不明白生　身在此生的茫然與盲點 只是忽而有淚　人間之淚 落在夢的夜空　比黑暗更虛無 比星光更 迫切。 unbright tears alive          and suddenly with tears image and dream arrange to meet          but dream doesn’t show I can forget that dream          but loss still remains I cherish, I hold this loss          as the human world seeks the next and the next the next the next          the next  -- alive so, suddenly with tears          but tears’ cause forgotten as though faintly understanding life          life’s boundary and futility then understanding not at all          body in this life’s vast and blind spot just suddenly with tears          tears of the human world falling in dream’s night sky         than darkness more empty than starlight more urgent.

throwin' her voice

Well, here I am, back to the blog after quite a long silence, caused by, in succession: illness, graduate school applications, reading a ton of theoretical whatnots, a trip to japan, more grad school apps, and the Fulbright midyear conference. The second half of my grant will be much more focused on actually producing translations than was the first, and I'm going to tie myself to this blog for some accountability. It'll be great.

Today's poet is Xia Yu (夏宇), the pen name of Huang Qingqi (黃慶綺), born in 1956, still living, and one of Taiwan's great post-modernist poets. I was recommended to read her in close succession by both a Taiwanese friend and the Fulbright Taiwan director, so I figured it must be done. I picked up her 1990 book "Ventriloquy" the other day and have been really enjoying it so far, so below are relatively quick attempts at the first three poems in the book. They are definitely tough to understand in the original, so translation is not a straightforward task, but hey, might as well give it a shot. She's quickly found her way onto my list of Taiwan favorites, and I'm excited to read/translate more. Hmm.

腹語術

我走錯房間

錯過了自己的婚禮.

在牆壁唯一的隙縫中, 我看見

一切行進之完好.  他穿白色的外套

她捧著花, 儀式,

許諾, 親吻

背著它: 命運, 我苦苦練就的腹語術

(舌頭那匹溫暖的水獸  馴養地

在小小的水族箱中  蠕動)

那獸說: 是的, 我願意.

ventriloquy

I went to the wrong room

and missed my own wedding.

through the only crack in the wall, I see

it all march on perfectly.   he wears a white tux

she carries flowers; ceremony,

promises, a kiss

carrying it: destiny, my hard-practiced ventriloquy

(tongue that warm water-beast   trained

in its tiny aquarium   squirming)

that beast speaks:  yes, I do.

----------------------

隱匿的王后和她不可見的城市

在她的國度, 一張

牽強附會的地圖.

出走的銅像不被履行的

遺書和諾言識破的陷阱

混淆的線索和消滅中的指紋以及

所有遺失的眼鏡和傘等

組成的國度.

她暗中畫著虛線, 無限

擴大的版圖.

一座分類詳盡的失物博物館, 好極了.

另外呢, 就是那些命運以及

歷史都還未曾顯現跡象的時刻吧

她草擬了秋天的徒步計劃 (目的不明

但將在每一個十字路口右轉)

寫好一個輕歌劇

餵了貓

寫了信

打一個蝴蝶結

在永不悔悟的心

the hidden empress and her unseen city

in her kingdom, one flat

map strains for interpretation.

a fleeing bronze statue, unfinished

deathbed notes and pitfalls seen through promises

mixed up clues and vanishing fingerprints, along with

all the lost glasses, umbrellas, and so on

these compose the kingdom.

in secret she paints dotted lines, a limitless

expanding territory.

a thoroughly catalogued Museum of Lost Things, wonderful.

besides, isn’t it all just the fates and

yet-unseen ciphers of history

she’s drawn up plans for the walking of autumn  (goals unclear

but will at every crossroads turn right)

written a light opera

fed the cat

scrawled the note

and tied up a butterfly knot

on this never-repenting heart

----------------------

偵探小說疏忽的細節

有人喜歡咳嗽有人更喜歡在音樂會裏

咳嗽尤其是協奏曲尤其是第2章節有人則忍住

(有人贊成壓抑) 至於噴嚏, 她說:

每當進入一個新的空間在最接近大門的

一張椅子上坐下來首先壓縮了椅墊和

椅墊間的空氣再以微微不安的姿勢振動椅背

我在心底深處發出一組鳴吧吧吧鳴

吧吧吧的調子如果此時有一些餅他就會

帶著餅進來以一種完全不知情的

神氣 (不知那些餅由何製成以及為何

帶餅而來) 然後我們就和好之類了

而在三度引用自己的警句之餘

仍然劇烈的成為方圓百哩內七個戴棒球小帽

中間的一個的他無礙宣佈了各類

不期然而達致的

親密關係的罅隙我在心底深處發出

嘎嘎嗚嗚啦的雜音在深處心底深處

完全我們互相彼此的瞭然所方出的幽微的

光, 的光, 的光

光就在空氣中啟動了最神秘的暗流並以

極深刻的謙遜姿態到達激起三至四個噴嚏

details overlooked in the detective novel

some people like to cough some people even more like at a concert

to cough especially if it’s a concerto especially in the 2^nd movement some people just hold back

(some people approve of oppression) as for sneezing, she says:

whenever entering a new place sit down atop the one chair nearest the main

entrance to first compress the air in the space between seat cushion and

seat cushion and then with slightly restless posture vibrate against the chairback

I from my heart-bottom’s deep place send out a birdcry crowd of ming ba ba ba ming

ba ba ba melodies if at this time there are some cookies he just will

carrying cookies enter wearing a kind of completely ingenuous

expression (unknowing where those cookies were produced and why

he came bearing cookies) and then we just are reconciled like so

and in 3D quoting the leftovers of my own admonitions

still fiercely becoming within a hundred meters seven wearing baseball caps

amidst them one he unimpeded declares all sorts of

unexpectedly brought expressions of

the rift of intimacy I from my heart-bottom’s deep place send out

honk honk hoot hoot nonsense static from my deep place heart-bottom’s deep place

complete we mutually each other watch then from all directions emits a faint

light, a light, a light

a light in the air starts the most mysterious undercurrent and then with

an extremely deep modest posture arrives stirring up three to four sneezes

Gosh-darn Earth, Always Spinning and Whatnot

Haven't posted in too long! Been busy with many fun things - including starting to study the Taiwanese dialect. Superawesomefun. Anyway, here's a poem from Shen Zhifang, currently a professor in the Chinese department at Tunghai University in Taichung, Taiwan. Kind of a light-hearted poem, neat idea, bumped into it today and figured I'd give it a go. I'm not head-over-heels for this one, but I'm definitely interested in checking out more of his stuff. 不敢入睡的原因 對，一切都是因為 地球自轉的關係 先是我好疲倦的躺在床上，床好疲倦的躺在 地球上，我們一起準備入睡。因為地球自轉 的關係，月光開始一寸一寸把我推醒 推我向地球那頭，一寸一寸，滑落 地球就翻過來睡在床上，床就翻過來睡在我 敏感單薄的背上，壓得脊椎與聲帶咯咯作響 ……我不敢吵醒別人 我不敢入睡。我怕啊我怕一不小心睡著了 地球和床和我將立刻向無底的宇宙墜落 －－那，那所有的連續劇怎麼辦？ 等待繼續曝光的各種內幕怎麼辦？ 已經高價買進的大筆股票怎麼辦怎麼辦？ 我不敢入睡。為了所有人美麗的明天 趴在床上奮力支撐地球的重量，直到 唉天亮 一切絕對是 該死的,地球自轉的關係 -沈志方 Why I Won't Sleep Yes, it’s all because of the earth’s turning. First I, exhausted, lay atop the bed – the bed, exhausted, lays atop the earth, and together we prepare for sleep. Because of the earth’s turning, the moonlight starts to inch by inch shake me awake, pushing me towards the earth, inch by inch, slipping, until the earth turns to sleep atop the bed, the bed turns to sleep atop my frail, sensitive back, pressing out creaking cracks from my spine and throat …but I musn’t wake the others. I will not sleep. I fear, ah, I fear if I fall asleep, carelessly, earth and bed and I will fall out into that bottomless universe --and, and then what would become of the soap operas? What of all the news stories waiting to break? What of all the high-priced stocks, yet unsold? I will not sleep. For everyone’s beautiful tomorrow, I’ll press against my bed and prop up the weight of this earth, until (oh!) daybreak. It’s definitely all because of the earth’s goddamned turning. -Shen Zhifang, t. Rob Voigt

One quick... poem

We talked today in poetry class about Xu Zhimo (徐志摩, 1899-1931), an early mainland vernacular-Chinese poet. He studied in the US and England, most importantly at Cambridge about which he wrote his most famous poem, "Saying Goodbye to Cambridge Again," which is already translated on the above-linked wikipedia page. That poem has been covered in song form by many, including S.H.E.. I took a stab at translating a bunch of the ones we went over in class, but only one seemed to lend itself to translation reasonably enough to put up.

Important to note: the "western sky," or here "western horizon" references the Pure Land Buddhism concept of the "Western Land of Bliss," which wikipedia describes as "a region offering respite from karmic transmigration." Paradise, basically. Anywho, the poem:

闊的海 闊的海空的天我不需要， 我也不想放一隻巨大的紙鷂 上天去捉弄四面八方的風﹔ 我衹要一分鐘 我衹要一點光 我衹要一條縫，－－ 象一個小孩子爬伏 在一間暗屋的窗前 望著西天邊不死的一條 縫，一點 光，一分 鐘。 The Vast Ocean I don't need the vast ocean, the open skies, nor do I want to send up a huge paper kite into the sky to tease the four winds; I just need one quick minute I just need one point of light I just need one thin seam, -- Like a small child climbing up the window in a dark room to gaze upon the undying western horizon's one thin seam, one point of light, one quick minute.

-Xu Zhimo, t. Rob Voigt

change, change, change...

Ran into this one perusing a book of contemporary Taiwanese poetry, by the Hakka poet Zhan Bing (詹冰), born in 1921 in Zhuolan, Miaoli County, Taiwan. It was written on his 70th birthday, and published on August 18th, 1991 in the Taiwan Daily. I took a pretty freely interpretive approach to translating it - it gave me a kind of e.e. cummings feel, and translating several sections quite literally resulted in some cummings-like turns of phrase that I appreciated. Also of course a liberal sprinkling of parentheses (gotta go nuts every now and then, ey?) helps out. Conceit aside, I definitely like the idea of using very directly literal translation occasionally to give a satisfying "strangeness" to passages, so here's my first vague shot at that.

Also, I think quite relevant to this poem, Zhan Bing is one of those extremely interesting authors who grew up in Taiwan during the Japanese colonial period. His childhood education was entirely conducted in Japanese, and with the 1945 "liberation" of Taiwan at the end of the second World War he faced the daunting task of switching from writing in one imposed non-native language (Japanese) to another (Mandarin Chinese). Wow. 變 變，變，變，。。。。。 時時刻刻， 萬物都在變化 自己，社會，人類，地球，宇宙。。。。。 變，我有一則不變的原則： 要變，就愈變愈美好！ 象蓓蕾變成美麗的花朵 象毛虫變成漂亮的蝴蝶 象黑炭變成燦爛的鑽石 象凡人變成慈悲的佛陀 變成真，善，美，愛，是最美好的！ 我要變成追求真理的科學家 我要變成多行善舉的善人 我要變成創造美境的美術家 我要變成充滿愛心的詩人 不然，我的人生毫無意義了 今天滿七十歲的我 日日月月，繼續努力學習 變，變，變。。。。。 change change, change, change..... (time time moment moment), the innumerable things all now changing self, society, humanity, earth, cosmos..... change, I have one unchanging principle: want change (yes the more change the more splendid)! as bud changes to exquisite flower as caterpillar changes to grand butterfly as black coal changes to resplendent diamond as mortal changes to merciful deity change to true, good, beautiful, love, is the most splendid! I want to change into a scientist, in search of the true I want to change into a welldoer, hands held up in compassion I want to change into an artist, creating worlds of beauty I want to change into a poet, brimful of kindness (or else, my this human life, will without meaning become) today filling seventy years this I (day day month month) goes on with the struggle of learning change, change, change..... -Zhan Bing (詹冰), t. Rob Voigt

The Beginnings of Vernacular Poetry - Hu Shi

Here we are! This will be my first post actually on-location from Taiwan. Thanks to the Fulbright foundation for the hook-up, woot. More specifically, I’m sitting in a hilarious 50’s-style American diner with unlimited coffee refills and free wireless, two blocks from my house. Awwwwwright. This semester is looks like I’ll be auditing a Translation Theories class at Shida, and a Modern Chinese Poetry class at Taida. The rest of my time will be spent doing translations, most of which will go up on here. I’m living in a wonderful apartment right in the Shida Night Market area with three other foreigners, and things are generally going wonderfully so far. Anywho, this isn’t a personal blog, so that’s probably about as much as I’ll mention all that stuff for the duration. E-mail me or whatnot if you wanna talk about life.

Back to poetry – the poetry class I’m auditing at Taida is essentially a chronological survey of Chinese “New Poetry” (新) starting with the May Fourth Movement and moving to the present day. Naturally, we started off with Hu Shi (胡適, 1891-1962), a prominent Republic-era intellectual and writer who studied at Cornell and Columbia before returning to the mainland to commence his “literary revolution” in concordance with the other May Fourthers. I just found out during class that, in fact, Hu Shi fled to the U.S. in 1948 and only returned to Asia - Taiwan, not the mainland - in 1958, to die of a heart attack in 1962 here in Taipei while serving as President of Academia Sinica. I'd always thought of him as quite a mainlander, but turns out I wasn't 100% right about that. Anyway, specifically, the aforementioned "revolution" involved a massive shift from writings in classical to vernacular Chinese. Like the prominence of Latin as a written lingua franca in medieval Europe, until the efforts of writers such as Hu Shi and Lu Xun in the early 20th-century, literature in China written in the classical language and therefore only accessible to upper-crust educated types.

Hu Shi in particular was a vigorous advocate of this extreme shift from the classical language, and advocated for a strong poetic empiricism (詩的經驗主義), that is, a poetics based out of personal experience. As a result, his poems are generally quite direct, repetitive, easily understandable, and made up of very clear language. The poem below entitled “Dreams and Poems” can easily be seen as something of a treatise on this thinking. In all honesty, I’m not terribly into these poems, and particularly the translations, but they’re interesting in that they are some of the very very first vernacular poetry published in Chinese. Funnily, I saw someone post online that Hu Shi's poetry would be "torn apart in the online forums" were it written today. But starting at the start is a fine place to start, ey?

蝴蝶 兩個黃蝴蝶，雙雙飛上天。 不知為什麼，一個忽飛還。 剩下那一個，孤單怪可憐。 也無心上天，天上太孤單。 Butterflies Two yellow butterflies, taking flight as a pair. I don't know why, but one suddenly flew back down. The poor other one, so alone up there, lost the desire to fly, with the sky so lonely. 小詩 也想不相思 可免相思苦 幾次細思量 情願相思苦 Little Poem Perhaps I'd like to not feel longing to avoid this longing's pains. Yet many times I've mulled it over, and I prefer this longing's pains. 鴿子 雲淡天高，好一片晚秋天氣! 有一群鴿子，在空中游戲。 看他們三三兩兩， 　　　回環來往， 　　　夷猶如意，—— 忽地裏，翻身映日，白羽襯青天， 十分鮮麗! Doves Thin clouds in the high sky, late autumn glowing in the trees! Overhead a flock of doves, playing games in the breeze. Look at them in threes and twos, winding as they come and go, unhurried as they please, -- forgetting the earth, turning bodies in the sunlight, white feathers against a blue sky, how splendid!　 人力車夫 警察法令，十八歲以下，五十歲以上，皆不得為人力車夫。 “車子！車子！”車來如飛。 客看車夫，忽然心中傷悲。 客問車夫：“今年幾歲？拉車拉了多少時？” 車夫答客：“今年十六，拉過三年車了，你老別多疑。” 客告車夫：“你年紀太小，我不能坐你車，我坐你車，我心中慘淒。” 車夫告客：“我半日沒有生意，又寒又飢， 你老的好心腸，飽不了我的餓肚皮， 我年紀小拉車，警察還不管，你老又是誰？” 客人點頭上車，說：“拉到內務部西。” The Rickshaw Runner The law dictates that anyone under 18 and over 50 may not work pulling a rickshaw. "Rickshaw! Rickshaw!" It came flying over. The customer saw the runner, and suddenly felt a sadness in his heart. The customer asked the runner: "How old are you? How long have you pulled this cart?" The runner answered the customer: "I'm 16, and I've pulled for three years, no need to worry, sir." The customer told the runner: "You're too young, I can't ride your cart. I'd feel distressed if I rode with you." The runner told the customer: "Sir, I've had no business all day, I'm cold and hungry, and your concern won't fill my belly. The cops don't bother me, so who are you then?" The customer lowered his head and got in, saying: "Take me to the Ministry of Internal Affairs." 夢與詩 都是平常經驗 都是平常影像 偶然湧到夢中來 變換出多少新奇花樣 都是平常情感 都是平常語言 偶然碰著個詩人 變換出多少新奇詩句 醉過才知酒濃 愛過才知情重 你不能做我的詩 正如我不能做你的夢！ Dreams and Poems All ordinary experiences All ordinary images Gushing up by chance in a dream And becoming vast flux of new patterns All ordinary emotions All ordinary language Bumping by chance into a poet And becoming vast flux of new lines Only a drunk knows the richness of wine Only a lover knows the weight of emotion You can't make my poems Just like I can't make your dreams! Hu Shi (胡適), t. Rob Voigt