Various - More Translations from the Chinese

V >> Various >> More Translations from the Chinese

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Some years later both the young man's parents died, and in his mourning
observances he showed unusual piety. As a mark of divine favour, magic
toadstools grew on the roof of his mourning-hut,[5] each stem bearing
three plants. The report of his virtue reached even the Emperor's ears.
Moreover a number of white swallows nested in the beams of his roof, an
omen which so impressed the Emperor that he raised his rank immediately.

[5] See "Book or Rites," xxxii, 3. On returning from his father's burial
a son must not enter the house; he should live in an "out-house,"
mourning for his father's absence.

When the three years of mourning were over, he was successively
promoted to various distinguished posts and in the course of ten years
was Governor of several provinces. Miss Li was given the fief of
Chien-kuo, with the title "The Lady of Chien-kuo."

He had four sons who all held high rank. Even the least successful of
them became Governor of T`ai-yuuan, and his brothers all married into
great families, so that his good fortune both in public and private life
was without parallel.

How strange that we should find in the conduct of a prostitute a degree
of constancy rarely equalled even by the heroines of history! Surely the
story is one which cannot but provoke a sigh!

My great-uncle was Governor of Chin-chou; subsequently he joined the
Ministry of Finance and became Inspector of Waterways, and finally
Inspector of Roads. In all these three offices he had Miss Li's husband
as his colleague, so that her story was well known to him in every
particular. During the Cheng1-yuuan period[6] I was sitting one day
with Li Kung-tso[7] of Lung-hai; we fell to talking of wives who had
distinguished themselves by remarkable conduct. I told him the story of
Miss Li. He listened with rapt attention, and when it was over, asked me
to write it down for him. So I took up my brush, wetted the hairs and
made this rough outline of the story.

[6] A.D. 785-805.

[7] A writer.

_[Dated] autumn, eighth month of the year Yi-hai, (A.D.
795), written by Po-Hsing-chien of T`ai-yuuan._

WANG CHIEN

[_c. A.D. 830_]

[66] HEARING THAT HIS FRIEND WAS COMING BACK FROM THE WAR

In old days those who went to fight
In three years had one year's leave.
But in _this_ war the soldiers are never changed;
They must go on fighting till they die on the battle-field.
I thought of you, so weak and indolent,
Hopelessly trying to learn to march and drill.
That a young man should ever come home again
Seemed about as likely as that the sky should fall.
Since I got the news that you were coming back,
Twice I have mounted to the high hall of your home.
I found your brother mending your horse's stall;
I found your mother sewing your new clothes.
I am half afraid; perhaps it is not true;
Yet I never weary of watching for you on the road.
Each day I go out at the City Gate
With a flask of wine, lest you should come thirsty.
Oh that I could shrink the surface of the World,
So that suddenly I might find you standing at my side.

[67] THE SOUTH

In the southern land many birds sing;
Of towns and cities half are unwalled.
The country markets are thronged by wild tribes;
The mountain-villages bear river-names.
Poisonous mists rise from the damp sands;
Strange fires gleam through the night-rain.
And none passes but the lonely fisher of pearls.
Year by year on his way to the South Sea.

OU-YANG HSIU

[_b. 1007; d. 1072_]

[68] AUTUMN

Master Ou-yang was reading his books[1] at night when he heard a strange
sound coming from the north-west. He paused and listened intently,
saying to himself: "How strange, how strange!" First there was a
pattering and rustling; but suddenly this broke into a great churning
and crashing, like the noise of waves that wake the traveller at night,
when wind and rain suddenly come; and where they lash the ship, there is
a jangling and clanging as of metal against metal.

[1] The poem was written in 1052, when Ou-yang was finishing his "New
History of the T`ang Dynasty."

Or again, like the sound of soldiers going to battle, who march swiftly
with their gags[2] between their teeth, when the captain's voice cannot
be heard, but only the tramp of horses and men moving.

[2] Pieces of wood put in their mouths to prevent their talking.

I called to my boy, bidding him go out and see what noise this could be.
The boy said: "The moon and stars are shining; the Milky Way glitters in
the sky. Nowhere is there any noise of men. The noise must be in the
trees."

"I-hsi! alas!" I said, "this must be the sound of Autumn. Oh, why has
Autumn come? For as to Autumn's form, her colours are mournful and pale.
Mists scatter and clouds withdraw. Her aspect is clean and bright. The
sky is high and the sunlight clear as crystal. Her breath is shivering
and raw, pricking men's skin and bones; her thoughts are desolate,
bringing emptiness and silence to the rivers and hills. And hence it is
that her whisperings are sorrowful and cold, but her shouts are wild and
angry. Pleasant grasses grew soft and green, vying in rankness. Fair
trees knit their shade and gave delight. Autumn swept the grasses and
their colour changed; she met the trees, and their boughs were stripped.
And because Autumn's being is compounded of sternness, therefore it was
that they withered and perished, fell and decayed. For Autumn is an
executioner,[3] and her hour is darkness. She is a warrior, and her
element is metal. Therefore she is called 'the doom-spirit of heaven and
earth';[4] for her thoughts are bent on stern destruction.

[3] Executions took place in autumn. See _Chou Li_, Book xxxiv (Biot's
translation, tom. ii, p. 286).

[4] "Book of Rites," I. 656 (Couvreur's edition).

"In Spring, growth; in Autumn, fruit: that is Heaven's plan. Therefore
in music the note _shang_ is the symbol of the West and _I-tse1_ is
the pitch-pipe of the seventh month. For _shang_ means '_to strike_';
when things grow old they are stricken by grief. And _I_ means '_to
slay_'; things that have passed their prime must needs be slain. Plants
and trees have no feelings; when their time comes they are blown down.
But man moves and lives and is of creatures most divine. A hundred
griefs assail his heart, ten thousand tasks wear out his limbs, and each
inward stirring shakes the atoms of his soul. And all the more, when he
thinks of things that his strength cannot achieve or grieves at things
his mind cannot understand, is it strange that cheeks that were steeped
in red should grow withered as an old stick, and hair that was black as
ebony should turn as spangled as a starry sky? How should ought else but
what is fashioned of brass or stone strive to outlast the splendour of a
tree? Who but man himself is the slayer of his youth? Why was I angered
at Autumn's voice?"

The boy made no answer: he was sleeping with lowered head. I could hear
nothing but the insects chirping shrilly on every side as though they
sought to join in my lamentation.

APPENDIX

An essay on Po Chuu-i, whose poems occupy most of this book, will be
found in "170 Chinese Poems." The fullest account of Li Po's life (with
translations) is given in a paper read by me to the China Society, and
published in the _Asiatic Review_, July, 1919. Notices of Ch`uu Yuuan,
Wang Wei, Yuuan Chen1, Wang Chien and Ou-yang Hsiu will be found in
Giles's "Biographical Dictionary." To Wang Chieh Po Chuu-i addressed
several poems.

Of the 68 pieces in this book, 55 are now translated for the first time.
Of the eight poems by Li Po, all but Number 6 have been translated
before, some of them by several hands.

Among the poems by Po Chuu-i, three (Nos. 11, 12, and 44) have been
translated by Woitsch[1] and one, (No. 43), very incorrectly, by
Pfizmaier. Another (No. 21) was translated into rhymed verse by Prof.
Giles in "Adversaria Sinica" (1914), p. 323. Ou-yang Hsiu's "Autumn" was
translated by Giles (with great freedom in many places) in his "Chinese
Literature," p. 215.

[1] Aus den Gedichten Po Chuu-i's. Peking, 1908.

[Transcriber's Note: The following apparent misprints have been
corrected for this electronic edition:
Patient carrier of towel and comb,[2]
--as printed, cited footnote 1, which is inapplicable and not on page

"Because you are my cousin,
"Then came the sharing of pillow and mat,
"Now, having 'seen my Prince,'
--as printed, all were missing opening "

Footnote 3: See p. 58, "170 Chinese Poems," Alfred A. Knopf, 1919.
--as printed, See p, 58,

with bedclothes under her arm
--as printed, bed-clothes]

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6