Myth of Arrival

My friend Mistletoe wrote recently suggesting a new poet I should read, Li Ch'ing-chao (the modernized version of her name is Li Qingzhao 李清照).

All sources I read credit her with being one of the best poets of China. She lived from 1084 to 1151, during a time of great war and chaos in the part of China she called home. The Columbia Anthology of Traditional Chinese Literature (Mair, Victor, editor, New York: Columbia University Press, 1994, page 340) has this to say about her:

“Li Ch'ing-chao is universally recognized as China's greatest woman poet and one of the foremost lyricists in her own right. She was born in Li-ch'eng (modern Tsinan in Shantung province) of an outstanding literary family. Her father was a noted writer of prose … Her mother, also a poet, was descended from a distinguished family. Li Ch'ing-chao was already recognized as a talented voice in her adolescence. In 1101 she married Chao Ming-ch'eng, a student in the imperial academy. The couple shared compatible tastes in literature, painting and calligraphy, and she wrote warmly of their mutual joys. Later, however, she experienced the traumatic events surrounding the fall of the Northern Sung empire to the Jurchen army and the transfer of the dynasty to the Southern Sung …” These included the death of her husband in 1129 (ibid.) and the destruction of their entire library and most of their own poetry as she was forced into poverty and exile (ibid.).

Here is a poem she wrote; it is variously titled "Rouged Lips" and "Naivete":

點絳唇
　
蹴罷秋千，
起來慵整纖纖手。
露濃花瘦，
薄汗輕衣透。

見有人來，
襪鏟金釵溜，
和羞走。
倚門回首，
卻把青梅嗅

I tried my hand at translating it. I am sure there are many mistakes and errors on my part; a terrible grasp of Chinese being a very limiting factor. Here is what I came up with, however:

Bored on the swing dreamily I get up
and powder my hands. I am a slim flower
shivering with morning dew that leaves
this gauzy dress sticky with my own sweat.

Someone wanders by; mortified I find
my stockings all snagged, my
golden hairpins all cockeyed.

Hurriedly, shyly, I walk away only
to slowly stop and lean against the open gate,
teasingly look back, sniff at
a heavy green plum in one hand.

As I said earlier in a different Chinese translation blog entry; it is wrong of me to pretend I did not have help in my work at translating. Before I attempt my own I study the work of others. This helps in several ways; it narrows down the meaning of certain words I am unsure of or cannot find in my dictionary but it also lets me see how I don't want my translation to sound like. That is not to say others' are bad and only mine good; no. But not all translations sing the way I want them to. So by studying the original poem and others' work I can come up with a translation that is all my own.

Here is Jiaosheng Weng's translation in Columbia Anthology:

Rouged Lips

Stepping down from the swing,
Languidly she smooths her soft, slender hands,
Her flimsy dress wet with light perspiration –
A slim flower trembling with heavy dew.

Spying a stranger, she walks hastily away in shyness:
Her feet in bare socks,
Her golden hairpin fallen.
Then she stops to lean against a gate,
And looking back,
Makes as if sniffing a green plum. (334)

This is by Kenneth Rexroth and Ling Chung (from Li Ch’ing-chao. New Directions, 1979):

After kicking on the swing,
Lasciviously, I get up and rouge my palms.
Thick dew on a frail flower,
Perspiration soaks my thin dress.
A new guest enters.
My stockings come down
And my hairpins fall out.
Embarrassed, I run away,
And lean flirtatiously against the door,
Tasting a green plum.

And an anonymous translator from PoetHunter.com:

Tz'u No. 3

Tired of swinging
indolent
I rise with a slender hand
put right
my hair
the dew thick
on frail blossoms
sweat seeping through
my thin robe
and seeing
my friend come
stockings torn
gold hairpins askew
I walk over
blushing
lean against the door
turn my head
grasp the dark green plums
and smell them.

This entry was posted on Saturday, April 21st, 2007 at 10:32 am and is filed under Chinese Translations. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.