My new books arrived! Have you read either? I’ve started reading more Chinese books - I really enjoy them. I’m excited to read these, although The Dream of the Red Chamber is really long and confusing I’ve heard - maybe I can better get through it, because I watch a lot of Chinese historical dramas haha!
New from Yale University Press, I Live In the Slums, by Can Xue, translated by Karen Gernant and Chen Zeping. In Can Xue’s world the superficial is peeled away to reveal layers of depth and meaning. Her stories observe no conventions of plot or characterization and limn a chaotic, poetic state ordered by the extreme logic of philosophy.
“Returning at Night to Linggao” by Su Shi (1037-1101 AD). Su Shi is one of those literary geniuses who’s so effortlessly good with words that it makes you want to open his brain and see how it functions. The translation below (source) is a pretty good one but no guarantee that the original brilliance isn’t lost in translation:
Drinking at night on the Eastern Slope (1), I sobered up and got drunk again.
When I arrived back home, it was about midnight.
The young servant was snoring like thunder,
Not responding, no matter how hard I knocked.
Supported by a walking stick, I listened to the river.
I have long regretted that this body does not belong to me -
When can I stop pursuing fame and money? (2)
The night comes to an end, the wind stops, and the waves in the ravine die down.
Let me drift away on a small boat from now on,
And entrust the rest of my life to rivers and seas.
(1) “Eastern Slope” is both the name of the hill and the literary name used by Su Shi. The line could also mean “Drinking at night, Su Shi (Eastern Slope) sobered up and got drunk again”.
(2) “營營” literally means being busy without stopping, often with a negative connotation. It is also the onomatopoeia for the sound that flies make when flying around. It can also refer to the anxieties in one’s mind. An alternative interpretation could be “When can I forget these anxieties?”
“The Great Palace of Qin” is an essay written by the Tang poet Du Mu (803-852 AD) that contemplates on the rise and fall of the Qin Dynasty, how the Qin emperor conquered the Six Kingdoms and united China under his rule but then rapidly caused the downfall of the empire through his own tyranny, wild ambition and extravagence, and through cruelly trampling the will of the people and extorting wealth from his subjects for self-indulgence. Who’d have thought that this essay could be so relevant to today’s China…
The translation below is by John Minford, but he omitted several lines in his translation so I added them back in, the lines translated by me are italicised:
The Six Kingdoms came to an end, the Four Seas became One.
The Hills of Shu were stripped bare, to build the Great Palace of Qin.
Stretching over three hundred leagues, its bulk obscuring sun and sky,
Northwards from Mount Li, west to the citadel of Xianyang,
The Twin Rivers pouring their waters through the palace walls.
Every five paces a storeyed mansion, every ten paces a pavilion.
Covered walkways wind their way, pointed eaves curve like teeth, like beaks, high into the sky.
Halls hug the power of Earth, linked together, rivalling one another in splendour,
Dense as a beehive, convoluted as a whirlpool, countless roofs rear their heads,
Bridges crouch on the waters like dragons, but without clouds how can there be dragons?
Pathways soar aloft like rainbows, but with clear skies how can there be rainbows?
In such confusion no direction can be discerned.
From the terraces sung melodies are heard, stirring the warm harmony of Spring;
In the halls, fluttering dancers’ sleeves bring a cool breath of breeze and rain.
In a single day, within one palace, the four seasons unfold.
Consorts and concubines, princes and princelings,
Forsake their former fiefdoms, their palaces of old,
To journey to Qin and wait upon new couches, to sing and make music at court.
Seated before their mirrors, the ladies at their morning toilette,
Arrayed like bright stars, comb their tumbling tresses massed like dark clouds,
their rouge mingling with the River Wei, their incense coiling into heaven.
Thunder sounds, ‘tis the emperor’s carriage rumbling who knows whither
While the harem clad in its finery, gazes forlornly,
Yearning for a dragon embrace, destined to wait thirty-six years.
The jewels and treasures of the Six Kingdoms amassed over generations
Were looted from their people and piled up like mountains.
When those kingdoms fell, all their wealth was transported to Qin.
The people of Qin treated grails like common pots, jade like plain rocks, gold and pearl like lumps of dirt;
They scattered the treasures mindlessly and didn’t know better to cherish them;
How come they plundered all there was, but squandered it like sand?
Pillars of the Palace more in number than peasants on the soil,
Beams of the Palace roof more in number than weavers at their looms.
Gleaming nails in the Palace qalls more in number than grains of rice in granaries of the needy,
Tiles on the Palace roof more in number than threads in garments of the destitute.
Lintels in Palace doorways more in number than walls of the town,
Music in the Palace noisier than chatter in the market.
The folk of all under heaven cannot voice their rage.
The heart and mind of the one man grows ever more arrogant and proud.
Until one day the troops bellow their rebellion, and a new pretender comes to the Valley of Han,
Until the flaming torches of Xiang Yu, Lord of Chu, flatten the Palace to scorched earth, to ashes.
The Six Kingdoms themselves caused their own downfall, not the might of Qin;
Qin itself wiped out its own line, not all under heaven.
Alas! If the Six Kingdoms had but loved their own folk,
They would never have fallen to the might of Qin.
If Qin in its turn had but loved its own subjects, taken from the Six Kingdoms,
Qin could have prolonged its rule, and no one could have destroyed it!
The rulers of Qin had not a moment to lament their fate,
Those who came after lamented it.
When those who come after lament but do not learn,
Then they too will merely provide fresh cause for lamentation
“Watching the Reapers” by Bai Juyi (772-846 AD), written when Bai Juyi worked as a minor governmental official in Shanxi Province. Translation below by (*):
Farmers have but little leisure, but the fifth month is the busiest;
last night there came a strong south wind and the wheat turned to gold in the fields;
came wives and daughters with carrying-poles, children with water pots,
streaming out to the fields to serve the strong lads harvesting;
heat from the earth burned the reapers feet; the sun played on their backs like fire,
yet all were so busy they did not care; they only feared that the sun would soon set.
And then I saw coming a poor woman carrying her child on her back,
in her right hand some ears she had gleaned, in her left a broken basket;
and I listened to her as she spoke:
“The crop in my home all goes for taxes; only if I glean can I get enough to fill my stomach!”
I look at myself wondering what right have I, what special virtue,
to be given three hundred piculs of rice each year, enough to eat with plenty to spare;
Also arriving in October are these two books, hailing from Russia and China. Nikolai Leskov—“Russia’s best-kept secret,” according to translator Donald Rayfield—wrote his strange folktales in the nineteenth century, while Ge Fei’s newly translated novel follows a woman fighting for equality in the chaotic Chinese climate of 1898.
Nineteenth-century Russian literature abounds with gems, but none stranger than the stories of Nikolai Leskov. An inspiration for Walter Benjamin’s famous essay “The Storyteller,” Leskov’s work hews close to the old world of oral tradition. Its title story is a tale of illicit love and multiple murder that could easily find its way into a Scottish ballad.
Ge Fei’s The Invisibility Cloak was a comic novel of contemporary China, but here, he turns a steely gaze to the year 1898, the country ablaze with hopes of revolution. Xiumi, a young daughter of wealthy parents who becomes a pawn in the reform efforts of several men, begins to fight the Confucian social mores that view women as property. Her campaign for change is a battle to win control of her own body—whatever the cost.
《鬼水瓶录》 - 陈坤 / “Demon Aquarius Chronicles” by Chen Kun - English Translations
As there’s a new cohort of Chen Kun fans here, particularly non-Chinese fans due to the popularity of Rise of the Phoenixes, I wanted to raise his profile not only as a talented actor, but also a superb writer.
There’s no English sources on his second book, “Demon Aquarius Chronicles” (or “Strange Aquarius”), a collection of micro folk tales on the theme of Chinese mythology, but rooted in humanly concepts. All very bizarre and thought provoking, a figment of the author’s imagination. So I thought I’d pick 5 of my favourite stories and translate them here. If people here like them I’ll considered translating more!
1.
On Penglai Mountain (t/n legendary land of Chinese mythology) there lived two fox spirits.
One wanted to become an immortal,
The other simply desired to taste love.
The former cultivated for three thousand years and finally succeeded.
When she reached the realm of heaven, she found that the other fox was waiting for her,
And already waited for two thousand years.
2.
In ancient times, there was no separation between virtue and evil.
The heaven and earth were muddled, yin and yang were as one.
Gods, demons, faeries and humans lived together as one race.
They loved and cared for each other, living long and prosperous.
One day, from the ground sprouted worry-free plants (t/n orange daylilies).
From then on, humans possessed shadows.
Ever since they had shadows and worry-free plants,
Their seven senses suddenly came to light, dividing the four races.
This is known as: the world!
3.
Flowers in the looking glass and moon reflected on water (t/n Chinese idiom used to describe an illusion or fantasy).
He separated from his body,
Poured a cup of fragrant tea,
And roused him from his slumber,
To share this tea with him.
The one who woke was reticent and silent,
He unsheathed a long sword from his chest,
Slashed the thin air,
Dividing space and time.
Smiling at the one who woke
Inviting him to admire those extraordinary fantasies between the cracks!
4.
Propitiation.
The demon king came to visit his retreated disciples,
Using his supernatural powers to observe their inner minds.
In order to better instruct them on cultivation,
He said to his disciples with a gentle voice:
“You must build a fortress in your inner mind,
With many rooms and alleyways,
Every time someone passes by those alleyways by chance,
You must use the prestige of morality to coax them into these rooms,
Attack and insult them,
Collect their resistance and resentment and offer them to the master of the fortress,
Otherwise known as yourself!”
5.
A weak maiden was abducted by a mountain elf.
Who wanted to force her into marriage.
The weak maiden would not comply so angered the elf.
He used his powers to take away her ability to move.
But she still did not comply.
The elf then sealed her senses of sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch.
The weak maiden lost all her six senses but still remained indifferent with a calm demeanour.
“How fortunate that my disposition is not affected.
You can seal my six senses,
But I’m the only one who can seal my own disposition.
[Chinese poetry tag] 你是人间四月天 You are the April of this world - 林徽因 Lin Huiyin
Today we will be exploring a poem by one of my favourite historical figures and role models, 林徽因 Lin Huiyin. Born in 1904, Lin Huiyin was a renowned architect, historian, poet and intellectual who played a huge part in the restoration of Chinese cultural heritage sites and the design of the national emblem of the P.R.C.
I know many poems by her off by heart - she’s one of the few people who has successfully managed to fuse together the structures and tempo of English poetry and prose, with the ambiguous and emotive vocabulary of the Chinese language.
This is exactly what her close friends loved about her – Wilma and John K Fairbanks admired her for living on a “kind of double cultural frontier,” and facing the problem of “the necessity to winnow the past and discriminate among things foreign, what to preserve and what to borrow.”
She is probably best known for this poem below, called “You are the April of this world”, written in 1934. It is widely interpreted that the poem was written to either commemorate the death of 徐志摩 Xu Zhimo, another Chinese poet whom she had a whirlwind romance with in the UK, or the birth of her son (latter more likely from my perspective).
你是人间四月天
我说 你是人间的四月天；
笑响点亮了四面风；
轻灵在春的光艳中交舞着变。
你是四月早天里的云烟，
黄昏吹着风的软，星子在
无意中闪，细雨点洒在花前。
那轻，那娉婷，你是，
鲜妍百花的冠冕你戴着，
你是天真，庄严，
你是夜夜的月圆。
雪化后那片鹅黄，你像；
新鲜初放芽的绿，你是；
柔嫩喜悦，水光浮动着你梦期待中白莲。
你是一树一树的花开，
是燕在梁间呢喃，
——你是爱，是暖，
是希望，
你是人间的四月天！
Translations (by me)
You are the April of this world
I say, you are the April of this world;
Your laughter ignites the winds hither and thither;
Tinkling and dancing to the brilliant lights of spring.
You are the soft haze of April mornings,
Dusk blows the mellowness of the breeze,
The stars glittering subconsciously, fine rain drops sprinkle like wine amid the flowers.
That gentleness, gracefulness, is you,
It is you wearing a radiant crown of a hundred flowers,
You are innocence, dignity,
You are the full moon night after night.
Ivory swathes after melted snow, is like you;
New shoots of verdant green, is you;
Tender joy, the sparkling ripples carry long awaited white lotuses of your dreams.
I’m completely sold on the OST track list for 遇龙 (Miss my Dragon) The show has yet to win me over but it’s like the songs have been composed for my tastes Props to my talented girl 执素兮 Zhi Su Xi for composing this particular song years back!
I love the traditional Chinese instruments overlay, not to mention Henry Huo Zun’s otherworldly vocals – it really is a great remake which gives the song a more ethereal vibe without compromising the good elements of the original. The lyrics are also beautifully poetic with Buddhist references (highlighted in red in the first verse), which could not be more apt for a story about four reincarnations.
Lyrics translation (by me):
若千年的光阴轮回里
As if a thousand years of reincarnation
是否只为寻觅着你
Is only for the sake of searching for you
恍若所有月明
As if all the moon’s luminescence
圆缺或是阴晴 都只为了你
Wax and wane or rain and shine are only for you
尘缘似一场花雨
Worldly bonds are like soft rain
眉目缱绻中枯寂
Our eyes deeply locked then becoming dull
指间的瞬息
Ephemerally my fingertips
拾得你一颗泪滴
Collect a drop of your tears
若忘川的涟漪 随我心
As if the gentle ripples on the River of Forgetfulness (Lethe) follow my heart
是否只为不忘记你
And are only for not forgetting you
恍若所有思绪
As if all my thoughts and emotions
怜惜或是悲戚 都只为了你
Pity or sorrow are only for you
尘缘似一场烟影
Worldly bonds are like a cloud of smoke
眉目缱绻中飘零
Our eyes deeply locked then wandering
心之所寄
Just as I express my heart
劫数应声而起
Calamity befalls us
**前生今生来生
In my past, present and future lives
与你相遇 在每一个梦里
I’ll meet you in every dream
拂袖唤漫天流萤
Waving a sleeve to summon a sky full of fireflies
掌心微光谁眼中倒映
The faint glow in our palms reflecting in our eyes
回眸不舍离去
Looking back and leaving reluctantly
此情为你 在心上停栖
This love lingers on my heart for you
下一世 再与你永不分离
Next life, I’ll never be separated from you again
若忘川的涟漪 随我心
As if the gentle ripples on the River of Forgetfulness (Lethe) follow my heart
是否只为不忘记你
And are only for not forgetting you
恍若所有思绪
As if all my thoughts and emotions
怜惜或是悲戚 都只为了你
Pity or sorrow are only for you
尘缘似一场流萤
Worldly bonds are like a stream of fireflies
眉目缱绻中宁静
Our eye deeply locked then becoming peaceful
照谁前行
Illuminating our paths
灿若彻夜繁星
Sparkling like a star-studded sky through the night
For a Random Stuff post, this is a very long one. Sit tight y'all, it’s story time.
In the Taiyuan years of Eastern Jin (1), there once lived a fisherman in the Wuling (2) area. One day, he paddled his way up a stream, eventually forgetting how far he’d ventured.
All of a sudden, the fisherman found himself near some woods consisting entirely of blooming peach trees. Within two-hundred paces of the water, delicate flowers, lush green grass, and fallen peach blossoms carpeted the banks. Astonished at this sight, the fisherman decided to press on, determined to reach the end of these woods.
Arriving at the source of the stream and the edge of the woods, he found a cave in the side of a mountain. A light beckoned at the end of the tunnel. The fisherman, now filled with curiosity, abandoned his boat and gingerly entered the tunnel.
At first the passage was narrow and could only fit one person, but after walking for a while, the walls abruptly gave way to the scenery on the other side. Fertile farmland and rows of houses framed by plains spread out before the fisherman, decorated by ponds, mulberry trees, and clusters of bamboo. Little paths fringed the fields, reaching into all corners of the village, while the clucking of chickens and the occasional woofing of dogs formed an audible backdrop. The villagers worked among their crops, dressed in much the same way as everyone outside of this paradise. There were elders and youngsters as well, and all seemed to enjoy their lives.
The villagers also seemed shocked to see the fisherman, so they asked him where he was from. The fisherman answered their question, and was promptly welcomed into their homes as a guest, where they prepared a feast for him. The news of the fisherman’s arrival soon spread, and other villagers who caught wind of this man from the outside came to greet him.
From the conversation the followed, the fisherman soon learned about how these people came to settle in such a secluded place. Over half a millennia ago, their forebears fled from a war (3) that destroyed much of their hometown. Eventually the refugees found this paradise, so they settled here with their families and never moved out again. When the fisherman asked if they knew the current government, the villagers apparently didn’t. They didn’t even know about the previous dynasties (4), so the fisherman recounted all that came to pass in the past few hundred years: all the tales, the wars, the changes. The villagers could only react with sympathetic sighs.
After the conversations and more feasting over the following days, the fisherman finally bid goodbye to the villagers. Before leaving, the villagers requested him to refrain from telling others about their village.
Unfortunately, the fisherman did not plan to keep the secret. Upon emerging out of the cave, he found his boat and began rowing back slowly, while marking the way he came. Once he was back in Wuling, he relayed his discoveries to the mayor. The mayor immediately ordered some of his men to follow the fisherman back to the village. However, they could not find the marks left by the fisherman, and soon became lost.
Nevertheless, the rumors of the “Peach Blossom Springs” circulated far and wide. A hermit in Nanyang (5) by the name of Liu Ziji (6) heard the rumor, and came to search for this place. The hermit failed, and died soon after. Since then, no one has tried to find the place again.
(Notes and Interpretations/Background below)
—————————-
Notes:
Taiyuan years of Eastern Jin: 376-396 AD.
Wuling (武陵): a city during Eastern Jin dynasty. Around the same place as Changde, Hunan (湖南常德) today.
Over half a millennia ago; war: refers to the Warring States era before Qin dynasty was established, or ~5th century BCE to 221 BCE.
Previous dynasties: refers to Han dynasty, Wei dynasty (including the Three Kingdoms era).
Nanyang (南陽): a city during Eastern Jin dynasty. The city still exists today under the same name.
Liu Ziji (劉子驥): a real person who lived during Eastern Jin era; his birth name was Liu Linzhi (劉驎之), Ziji (子驥) was his courtesy name. He has an official biography in The Book of Jin (22nd biography under the Hermits chapter).
—————————-
Interpretations and Background:
As you can probably guess from the story itself, the Peach Blossom Springs isn’t a real place. It’s a story, after all, and it’s the very story where the four-character idiom 世外桃源 (meaning “a paradise beyond this world”) originated. But as stories go, people have different interpretations.
The most well-supported interpretation was somewhat based on the author’s life. The author of this story was Tao Yuanming (陶淵明, 365-427 AD), and at the time he wrote this story, the country was again in turmoil, people were suffering, and the government wasn’t doing anything to help. This story was also written as an introduction for his poem of the same title and subject. The last 2 lines of the poem, however, gave a hint of his motivation: “The average mortals of this world, how would they know the wonders that lie beyond? / I would rather fly away with the breeze, to search far and wide for my soulmate.” (請問世間凡夫子，可知塵外此奇跡？我願踏乘輕雲去，高飛尋找我知己。) Thus, the Peach Blossom Springs could be understood as Tao Yuanming’s version of an ideal world, a sort of utopian dream, born of a harsh reality.
The second interpretation was more or less the same as the previous one, except it was slightly more morbid. It proposed that perhaps instead of the Peach Blossom Springs being an utopian dream, it might have been Tao Yuanming’s vision of what the afterlife looked like.
The third interpretation likely came about in the age of the internet, and, the internet being the internet, this interpretation is the darkest of the three. People theorized that instead of the story being about an utopia, it was all an illusion. The refugees fleeing the war died, and the Peach Blossom Springs was actually an ancient neglected cemetery where they were buried. All the villagers the fisherman saw were ghosts.
But, regardless of the interpretations people came up with, there’s one thing that everyone agrees on: the Peach Blossom Springs is not of this world.
In a time of such crisis, it is important to remember that we are all members of communities—familial, academic, social, professional, neighboring, and otherwise. We must hold ourselves accountable to these communities by practicing social distancing measures appropriate to our own needs and abilities and by lending support to one another. Please avoid gatherings whenever possible—it is a terrible time for “last hurrahs” before lockdowns and shelter-in-place mandates take effect.
Amidst failing healthcare systems and daunting headlines, we believe that comprehensive healthcare should be a right—not a paid privilege. Recent escalations of anti-Asian racism (ranging from egregious COVID-19 misnomers such as “Kung Flu” and “Wuhan Virus” to overt physical violence enacted against Asian-appearing individuals) are vicious and categorically unacceptable. In policy and practice, community is first—we must protect each other.
The sinθ team wishes you and yours good health and safety, recognizing that this will be a traumatic few months for many for a plethora of reasons. Please reach out to those around you and help them seek shelter and love.
Take care, and we hope there is still room for a little magic in the world
Graphic designed by Julia Cheng.
Reminder: we are accepting submissions to Issue #15 “MAGIC 魔“ until MARCH 31! What is magical to you?
