7/26/06 01:29 am - "Xing xiang zi"    李清照 Li Qingzhao (1084 - ca. 1151) Sky and autumn are both radiant! My feelings churn inside. I see the profusion of golden yellows: the Double Nine approaches. I try on a thin shift, Taste the new vintage. In time, it turns windy, Then turns rainy, Then turns cold. Dusk falls on the courtyard Desolate and disheartened. The wine has worn off, and now the memories hurt. How do I survive the long night, The bright moon on the empty bed? I hear the sounds of washing clothes, pounding; The sounds of the crickets, chirping; The sounds of the water clock, dripping ... trans. Euguene Eoyang This one is interesting; sounds like an early precursor to the women detailed in Dorothy Ko & Susan Mann. "The daughter of a distinguished man of letters," she married a minor official who was "an antiquarian, a book collector, and an epigrapher" (89). Their marriage was apparently happy (actually, sounds like one of those marriage of the minds so prized in the Qing periods that placed love-through-letters and intellectual 'passion,' I suppose, over 情 - they edited a "monumental catalogue of stone and bronze objets d'art" called the Jin shi lu together); much of her poetry is either celebrating that union or recalling it fondly. Of course, like a great many interesting poets of considerable talent, much of her work (which originally spanned six volumes) has been lost, and we are left with fifty lyrics. The inclusions in this anthology certainly point to a truly talented poet - she reminds me a bit of Li Bai and Du Fu (lots of drinking and memories). Skimming this entire volume, I am reminded of a former Latin professor of mine who said the hardest question posed during the oral portions of his exams for his MA was "If you could get rid of one extant piece of classical literature and get something we don't currently have, what would it be?" She and her husband fled south with the Song court when the Jurchen armies were on the move in 1127. Her husband died on the way to his new official post. "Of Li's last years, little is known except that they were certainly difficult. A legend (inspired perhaps by envy) has her marrying a low-ranking military man and divorcing him soon thereafter" (ibid). [p. 89-99] |
7/25/06 05:49 pm (UTC) -![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
minsun - To the Tune, "Plum Blossoms Fall and Scatter"
The perfume of the red water lilies
Dies away. The Autumn air
Penetrates the pearl jade curtain.
Torches gleam on the orchid boats.
Who has sent me a message
Of love from the clouds? It is
The time when the wild swans
Return. The moonlight floods the women's
Quarters. Flowers, after their
Nature, whirl away in the wind.
Spilt water, after its nature,
Flows together at the lowest point.
Those who are of one being
Can never stop thinking of each other.
But ah, my dear, we are apart,
And I have become used to sorrow.
This love -- nothing can ever
make it fade or disappear.
For a moment it was on my eyebrows,
Now is is heavy in my heart.
7/25/06 06:20 pm (UTC) -![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
bafooz - Re: To the Tune, "Plum Blossoms Fall and Scatter"
The scent of red lotus fades: the jade mat feels autumnal.
Gently loosening the silk gown,
I board the orchid boat alone.
Who's sending a gilded message in the clouds?
When the migrating geese bring word
The moon will be full in the western chamber.
Flower petals drift down, the river flows.
One kind of longing
In two places: idle melancholy.
No way to dispel these feelings.
For just when they brim in the eyes,
They go straight to the heart.
7/25/06 07:34 pm (UTC) -![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
minsun - versions
Red lotus incense fades on
The jewelled curtain. Autumn
Comes again. Gently I open
My silk dress and float alone
On the orchid boat. Who can
Take a letter beyond the clouds?
Only the wild geese come back
And write their ideograms
On the sky under the full
Moon that floods the West Chamber.
Flowers, after their kind, flutter
And scatter. Water after
Its nature, when spilt, at last
Gathers again in one place.
Creatures of the same species
Long for each other. But we
Are far apart and I have
Grown learned in sorrow.
Nothing can make it dissolve
And go away. One moment,
It is on my eyebrows,
The next, it weighs on my heart.
7/25/06 06:23 pm (UTC) -![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
bafooz - I also really like this one, "Su zhongqing"
I was slow to undo my hair.
The plum petals still stuck to a dying branch.
As I awoke, the scent of wine stirred me from spring sleep;
My dream once broken, there was no going back.
Now it's quiet:
The moon hovers above,
The kingfisher blinds are drawn.
Still: I feel the fallen petals;
Still: I touch their lingering scent;
Still: I hold onto a moment of time.
7/25/06 07:43 pm (UTC) -![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
minsun - To the Tune, "Telling my Most Intimate Feelings"
When night comes,
I am so flushed with wine,
I undo my hair slowly:
a plum calyx is
stuck on a damaged branch.
I wake dazed when smoke
breaks my spring sleep.
The dream distant,
so very distant;
and it is quiet, so very quiet.
The moon spins and spins.
The kingfisher blinds are drawn;
and yet I rub the injured bud,
and yet I twist in my fingers this fragrance,
and yet I possess these moments of time!
7/27/06 07:01 am (UTC) -![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
minsun - Alone in the Night
Have just freed the willows from
The ice. As I watch the peach trees,
Spring rises from my heart and blooms on
My cheeks. My mind is unsteady,
As if I were drunk. I try
To write a poem in which
My tears will flow together
With your tears. My rouge is stale.
My hairpins are too heavy.
I throw myself across my
Gold cushions, wrapped in my lonely
Doubled quilt, and crush the phoenixes
In my headdress. Alone, deep
In bitter loneliness, without
Even a good dream, I lie,
Trimming the lamp in the passing night.
~Li Ch'ing Chao
Rexroth was quite taken with Li, calling her "China's greatest poetess, of any period." He translates a whole volume of her verse with Ling Chung (check under "Li Po"):
http://www.ndpublishing.com/completecat
In the footnotes, he writes how she and her husband used to wander around China tracing ancient stele inscriptions.
7/27/06 09:42 am (UTC) -![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
bafooz - Niannu jiao
There's also slanting wind, misty rain,
The double-hinged door must be shut.
Graceful willow, delicate blossoms,
Cold Food Day approaches,
And with it every kind of unsettling weather.
I work out a few tricky rhymes,
Raise my head, clear my mind of wine,
Exceptional, the taste of idleness.
Migrating wild geese wing out of sight
But they cannot convey my teeming thoughts.
In my pavilion, cold for days with spring chill,
The curtains are drawn on all sides.
I am too weary to lean over the balustrade.
The incense sputters, the quilt feels cold,
I am just awake from a dream.
No dallying in bed for one who grieves,
When clear dew descends with the dawn
And the wutong tree is about to bud.
There are so many diversions in spring.
The sun is rising: the fog withdraws;
Let's see, will this be a good day?
7/27/06 06:58 pm (UTC) -![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
minsun - To the Tune, "Intoxicated in the Shadows of Flowers"
auspicious incense burns in the gold animal.
Once again, it is the joyous mid-autumn festival,
but a midnight chill
touches my jade pillow and silk bed-screen.
I drink wine by the eastern fence in the yellow dusk.
Now a dark fragrance fills
my sleeves and makes me spin.
The bamboo blinds sway in the west wind.
And I am even thinner than a yellow flower.
~tr. Sze
7/28/06 02:47 am (UTC) -![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
bafooz - "Zui hua yin"
The gold animal spurts incense from its head.
Once more it's the Festival of Double Nine;
On the jade pillow - through mesh bed curtain -
The chill of midnight starts seeping through.
At the eastern hedge I drink a cup after dusk;
Furtive fragrances fill my sleeve.
Don't say one can't be overwhelmed:
When the west wind furls up the curtain,
I'm more fragile than the yellow chrysanthemum.
7/29/06 02:00 am (UTC) -![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
minsun - For Maggie
Once more the new grass is kingfisher green.
The pink buds of the peach trees
Are still unopened little balls.
The clouds are milk white jade
Bordered and spotted with green jade.
No dust stirs.
In a dream that was too easy to read,
I have already drained and broken
The cup of Spring.
Flower shadows lie heavy
On the translucent curtains.
The full, transparent moon
Rises in the orange twilight.
Three times in two years
My lord has gone away to the East.
Today he returns.
And my joy is already
Greater than the Spring.
7/29/06 02:03 am (UTC) -![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
minsun - And another. . .
Wide the window, and let in
The profound lasciviousness
Of Spring. Confused shadows
Flicker on the half drawn curtains.
Hidden in the pavilion, wordlessly,
I strum the rose jade harp.
Far away a rocky cliff
Falls from the mountain in the
Early twilight. A gentle breeze
Blows the mist like a shadow
Across my curtain. O bright pods
Of the pepper plant, you do not
Need to bow and pardon.
I know you cannot hold back
The passing day.
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1/8/08 12:27 pm (UTC) - - Hello look at sites
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