"Note to Yaqing on an Autumn Day"
錢風綸 Qian Fenglun (fl. 1690)
"Note to Yaqing on an Autumn Day"
Your letter arrived from the city's outer gate,
or, I should say, from the ends of the earth!
We've both felt sad, missing each other,
neither aware of the other's mood.
When cool evening breezes and chess games
are played out, soft rain late in the night;
It is the season when wild geese return.
By my window, orange and pomelo
are heavy with hanging fruits;
Outside the door, hibiscus
blooming on countless branches.
Together we enter this clear autumn
but cannot enjoy it together,
So instead, I'll depend on the blue bird
to send my love to you.
[Trans. Maureen Robertson]
A grand niece of 顧若璞 Gu Ruopu (from whose poem on chrysanthemums this journal's tag line comes from); her mother was the founder of the Banana Garden Poetry Club (my favorite poet 徐燦 Xu Can was also a member); Qian joined her mother and the original group of five women that made up the club. Upon marrying Gu's great-grandson, she "often submitted her writings to Gu for criticism" (412).
Apparently quite talented as a child, she was later praised for her antiquated style, especially in terms of her prose. These do not survive. I find this anthology most useful from piecing together various connections between literary women; if nothing else, pulling out bits and pieces every so often makes these networks really come to life as they start spiraling.
She has some lovely, lengthier poems - unpretentious and free from a lot of the tropes associated generally with 'women writers' (whether such criticisms are fair on a broad perspective is something we could debate; however, there's certainly a pervasive attitude about the somewhat vapid nature of many poems written by women).
[411-421]
"Note to Yaqing on an Autumn Day"
Your letter arrived from the city's outer gate,
or, I should say, from the ends of the earth!
We've both felt sad, missing each other,
neither aware of the other's mood.
When cool evening breezes and chess games
are played out, soft rain late in the night;
It is the season when wild geese return.
By my window, orange and pomelo
are heavy with hanging fruits;
Outside the door, hibiscus
blooming on countless branches.
Together we enter this clear autumn
but cannot enjoy it together,
So instead, I'll depend on the blue bird
to send my love to you.
[Trans. Maureen Robertson]
A grand niece of 顧若璞 Gu Ruopu (from whose poem on chrysanthemums this journal's tag line comes from); her mother was the founder of the Banana Garden Poetry Club (my favorite poet 徐燦 Xu Can was also a member); Qian joined her mother and the original group of five women that made up the club. Upon marrying Gu's great-grandson, she "often submitted her writings to Gu for criticism" (412).
Apparently quite talented as a child, she was later praised for her antiquated style, especially in terms of her prose. These do not survive. I find this anthology most useful from piecing together various connections between literary women; if nothing else, pulling out bits and pieces every so often makes these networks really come to life as they start spiraling.
She has some lovely, lengthier poems - unpretentious and free from a lot of the tropes associated generally with 'women writers' (whether such criticisms are fair on a broad perspective is something we could debate; however, there's certainly a pervasive attitude about the somewhat vapid nature of many poems written by women).
[411-421]