"Viewing the Moon"
秋瑾 Qiu Jin (1875-1907)
In sorrow, above the curtain, I view the moon's round visage;
Thinking of my parents, I can only shed useless tears.
Though carrying mud in its grief, the swallow cannot fill the sea;
Nor can I, lacking the ability to smelt stone, mend the heavens.
The Xiang River and northern clouds became tangled in old dreams;
Amid green hills and red trees young cicadas chirp.
Of ten parts melancholy, three parts are hatred;
Reminiscing about the past only brings self-pity.
trans. Chia-lin Pao Tao
Qiu Jin was beheaded by the Qing in 1907 for revolutionary activity; after being captured, she refused to speak during her interrogation. "When a brush was handed to her for a written confession, Qiu wrote her surname, and then - echoes of her despair after each revolutionary debacle - she followed the character with six others: Qiu yu qiu feng chou sha ren [秋雨秋風愁殺人] (Autumn rain and autumn wind, such eviscerating, life-smothering sorrow!)" (Women Writers of Traditional China: An Anthology of Poetry and Criticism, ed. Kang-i Sun Chang and Haun Saussy (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1999) p. 639)
(From my lovely (and giant and expensive - damn you Stanford University Press, publishing such interesting and EXPENSIVE books!) new anthology. I have 806 pages of poetry, criticism, prose, explanations, and biographical sketches to wind my way through, from the Han Dynasty to 1911. Woo!)
[p. 632-657]
In sorrow, above the curtain, I view the moon's round visage;
Thinking of my parents, I can only shed useless tears.
Though carrying mud in its grief, the swallow cannot fill the sea;
Nor can I, lacking the ability to smelt stone, mend the heavens.
The Xiang River and northern clouds became tangled in old dreams;
Amid green hills and red trees young cicadas chirp.
Of ten parts melancholy, three parts are hatred;
Reminiscing about the past only brings self-pity.
trans. Chia-lin Pao Tao
Qiu Jin was beheaded by the Qing in 1907 for revolutionary activity; after being captured, she refused to speak during her interrogation. "When a brush was handed to her for a written confession, Qiu wrote her surname, and then - echoes of her despair after each revolutionary debacle - she followed the character with six others: Qiu yu qiu feng chou sha ren [秋雨秋風愁殺人] (Autumn rain and autumn wind, such eviscerating, life-smothering sorrow!)" (Women Writers of Traditional China: An Anthology of Poetry and Criticism, ed. Kang-i Sun Chang and Haun Saussy (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1999) p. 639)
(From my lovely (and giant and expensive - damn you Stanford University Press, publishing such interesting and EXPENSIVE books!) new anthology. I have 806 pages of poetry, criticism, prose, explanations, and biographical sketches to wind my way through, from the Han Dynasty to 1911. Woo!)
[p. 632-657]