王維：The Wang River Cycle 3 丙

BONUSES and MALICES

‘BONUSES and MALICES’

1

FURTHER ELABORATIONS ON THE WHEEL RIM RIVER RETREAT

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Here I have collected nearly all further references to the Wheel Rim River Retreat in Wang Wei’s poetry, again with a number of translations I found on my book shelf. Dimitri Badiarov, the famous violin builder, on our first trip to China in 1997, joked that he never saw me going into a book store: little did he know that on our subsequent trips in 2000 and 2002, I had learned a bit of Chinese and was roaming all around the cities for books! I am particularly glad I found the Complete Works of Li Bai in traditional characters - as well as my favorite novel Dream of the Red Mansion, published in 5 easy-manageable Penguin classic volumes as the Story of the Stone.

At the end there are some more Bonus materials, and some creations of my own, some serious, some more ‘malicious’ or perhaps just ‘somewhat jocular and playful’.

Return to the Wang River (5vs.)

谷口疎鐘動。漁樵稍欲稀。悠然遠山暮。獨向白雲歸。

菱蔓蒻難定。楊花輕易飛。東皋春草色。惆悵掩柴扉。

valley mouth remote bell move / fisherman woodman gradually about-to rare / distant (-) far mountain dusk / alone toward *white cloud return /

water-chestnut vine/climb weak hard settle / poplar flower light easy-to fly / east rice-field spring grass color / grief grief close lumber door

Written on returning to Wang River (114) Return to the Wang River

In the mouth of the valley a bell stirs, remote. Bells stir in the mouth of the gorge

Woodsmen and fishermen gradually grow scarce. Few fishermen and woodcutters are left

Far away the distant mountain dusks; Far off in the mountains is twilight

Alone toward white clouds I return. Alone I come back to white clouds

Water chestnut tendrils are weak and hard to still; Weak water chestnut stems can’t hold still

Willow catkins are light and easily fly Willow (poplar) catkins are light and blow about

On the eastern marsh, the color of spring grass; To the east is a rice paddy, color of spring grass

Sadly I close the brushwood gate (Yu) I close the thorn gate, seized by grief (Barnstones)

I love the lonely sound of a bell. It will come back in the Temple of the Gathered Fragrance (sacred, therefore not referring to what’s under my armpits), where I picked it up in Dr. Watson’s translation as one of my first experiences with Chinese poetry (see below). The Barnstones’ ruin that solitude by the plural “bells”, which is in my province’s dialect (’s-Hertogenbosch) means “Belgian”, and which to us Brabanders tends to add a humorous element to the text. I also like Polly’s ‘fisherman and woodcutters’ (the exact translation of 漁樵) growing scarce. I like Barney’s “blow about”, but their ‘seized by grief’ reminds of a heavy-voiced German TV dubbing of a sobbing petite - puffed up in her gorgeous kimono - in a Japanese movie. Or a marriage proposal put in terms of “recovering a fumble for a touchdown”.

Seriously, there is something in the primeval depth of nature that we relate to, the thing makes us go into our national parks, that I find in these poems - a “Lucan” (as in Georgian), ‘sidereal’ force), that we feel makes us more complete, a connection with deep lingering parts of ourselves that once were, the hunter, the gatherer archetypes? Or just the enormous scope of what we are part of, which we sense has so much more in it than we have disclosed with our puny rational means. Of course, again, the relationship between poetry and that superb art of Chinese landscape painting seem to be as compelling a sinequanon as wine with a choice French cheese, or baroque art and emotion. I’m babbling, so I should stop. If you read this now, it will probably be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, because next week this text will be gone.

No or forgotten title

a bell in the distance the wind stirs delicate vines

the sound floats and water chestnut shoots

down the valley catkin fluff sails past

one by one in the march to the east The two columns on the left are part of David Young’s

woodcutters and fishermen new growth translation, forcing me to leave this area empty, except

stop work, start home vibrates with color for this sentence that has words but lacks a offensive co-

the mountains move off it’s sad ordinator so they just appear here with in particularly

into the darkness to walk in the house strategical order and without a proper ending either, it

and shut the door just continues until the sentence runs out of downs and -

alone I turn home - well you can see it was autumn when this got written

as great clouds beckon (David

from the horizon Young)

Returning Home to Wang-Ch’uang Cottage Return to the Wang River

The tolling of a distant bell floats faintly into the valley; faint bell sound, valley’s gate

The fishermen and woodcutters gradually disappear. some fishers, woodmen, tarry -

Slowly the far mountains fade into darkness round peaks, far, dark, it’s late -

Though the eastern plateau still glimmers with the colour of spring grass. here, nebulous forest prairie -

Vines and water chestnuts bow down before the tearing wind and lone, without a mate

And willow catkinds dance lightly about. a tired, dusty canary -

Alone, I turn homeward toward beckoning white clouds. wind, willow catkins fade

In a mood deep with melancholy I close my thatched door. I close my door - not merry

(Walmsley) (Ferryman)

——————

Wang River Retreat

不到東山向一年。歸來纔及種春田。雨中草色綠檻染。水上桃花紅欲然。

優婁比邱經綸學。傴僂丈人鄉里賢。披衣倒屣且相見。相歡語笑衡門前。

not reach east mountain face one year / return come only when sow spring field / rain middle grass color green threshold to-dye / water on peach flower red about-to burn eminent (Lou) next mound* classics (-) study / hunchback tower (master) man homeland village virtuous / drape gown fall? sandal about-to each other see / each other be pleased tongue laugh railings door in-front

* could indicate the name of Confucius - but in a confusing sense

Wang River Retreat (115) Wang River Summer House

I haven’t gone to the eastern hills for close to a year. The Eastern Hills: it’s been a year

Returning home I have just had time to seed* the springing fields. Just back in time for spring seed sowing

In the rain the grasses’color turns green, like a dye. The rain paint green grass vivid, clear

Above the water peach blossoms redden, ready to blaze. The lake: peach blossom’s red shade showing

Youlü* the mendicant is the scholar of sutra studies, Youlou’s the Sutra charioteer

And old master Hunchback is the provincial village worthy. And our own hunchback, wise clamor crowing

Throwing on clothes and losing my sandals, I rush out to greet them: My coat, my shoes! Both men appear

Together we talk and laugh before my humble door. (Polly, 115) My deck will hear deep joy echoing. (Ferryman)

* I only found Lou in the dictionaries for that character, but I’m sure there’s something there I don’t know

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At my Wang River Retreat, Presented to Candidate Pei Di (5vs.)

輞川閒居贈裴秀才廸

寒山轉蒼翠。秋水日潺湲。倚杖柴門外。臨風聽暮蟬。

渡頭餘落日。墟里上孤烟。復值接輿醉。狂歌五柳前。

At my Wang River Retreat, Presented to Candidate Pei Di (116). At my Wang River Retreat, Presented to Candidate Pei Di

Cold mountains turn deep green, The cold mountains turn deep green

Autumn waters daily flowing on. Autumn waters flow slower and slower

I lean in my staff outside the brushwood gate By the lattice gate, I lean on my cane

And listen to evening cicadas in the wind. We hear cicadas in the wind at dusk

At the ford lingers a setting sun; The failing sun rests on the dock

From the deserted village rises one wisp of smoke. And lonely smoke rises from the village

Again I meet a drunken Jiehu You are as drunk as legendary Jie Hu (?)

Madly singing in front of Five Willows. (Polly) madly singing in front of Five Willows (Barnstones)

“Wang Wei refers to Pei Di as, literally, a *budding talent” (xiucai), a polite way of addressing a candidate for the jinshi *examinations at the time.” ——- “(…) Drunken Jiehu lived in the southern state of Chu during the Spring & Autumn period . He feigned madness to avoid serving under the government of King Zhao (…)” —— The phrase ‘5 willows’ has been associated with a peaceful life in retreat since the poet Tao Qian called himself ‘Master of the 5 Willows after the trees growing by his country home (Song History)” (Polly)

To scholar P’ei Ti, from one who lives Wheel-Rim River, Dwelling in idleness:

leisurely in a cottage at Wang-Ch’uan for P’ei Ti

The shivering mountains turn into indigo; Cold mountains gone deep kingfisher-green,

The autumn stream flows murmuring all day long. Autumn waters swelling higher day by day,

Beyond my covered (?) gate, I lean upon my staff I lean on a cane outside my brushwood gate,

And listen to the wind-borne cry of the dying cicada. look out into wind, listen to late-day cicadas.

Descending, the sun loiters over the ferry landing A last trace of sun sets at the river-crossing,

and lonely smoke lingers above the sleepy village… cook-smoke trails out over isolate village,

Again I meet you, drunken modern hermit Chieh Yü, and there you are, another madman of Ch’u

Madly serenading Five Willows Cottage! (Walmsly) drunk wild and singing beneath five willows. (Hinton)

To Pei Di, while we are living lazily at Wang River

cold mountains turn deep green

autumn stream’s calm flow

I’m at the gate - I lean

on my old cane - gulls show

the fading sunlight’s gleam

a call, a lonely crow

I’m drunk, sing in a dream

to_a linden, full of woe …

(Ferryman)

(the Linden tree is a hidden clue for something in my life - alas! it is not you, Jaap, though it could have been)

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Wang River In the Rain (7. vs.)
積雨輞川莊作

積雨空林煙火遲。蒸藜炊黍餉東淄。漠漠水田飛白鷺。陰陰夏木囀黃鸝。

山中習靜觀朝槿。松下清齋折露葵。野老與人爭席罷。海鷗何事更相疑。

accumulate rain Wang River summer-house made/create

accumulate rain empty forest smoke fire go-slow / steam (cook) chenopodium-album cook millet ration east field (1)

calm calm (2) water fields fly white egret / dark dark summer tree bird-song yellow oriole

mountain midst practice peace-&-quiet regard morning (plant) / pine under clear diet break rose dew sunflower

rural old - exclamation? - man wrestle plait/mat/position renounce / sea gull what business still-more toward ?? (I don’t pretend to know everything)

(1) my powerhouse dictionary of ancient Chinese literature gives 1. open wasteland, 2. field for beginning one year plants, or something

(2) or scattered over, all over the place

Written after Prolonged Rain at Wang River Estate (113) Rain On and On at My Wheel River Farm

A prolonged rain in the empty woods; cookfire smoke rises slowly, Rain on and on in these empty forests - smoldering cookfires

As we steam pigweed and stew millet to feed those on the eastern fields. steam goosefoot and simmer millet for farmers in eastern fields.

Over vast and boundless paddies fly the white herons; A snowy egret takes flight across flooded farmland vast and silent.

In dense, dark summer trees warble yellow orioles. Yellow orioles sing deep among summer trees thick with shadow.

Within the mountains practicing peace I watch the morning hibiscus. Perfecting mountain tranquility, I watch flaring mountain blossoms fade,

Beneath the pines in a cleansing fast I cut off a dewy sunflower. and my fast pure beneath pines, pick dew-graced mallow greens.

The rustic old man has done with the struggle to win a place on the mat: Done struggling for a place in this human realm, I’m just this

Seagull, for what reason are you still suspicious of me? (Polly) old-timer in the wilds. So why are these seagulls still suspicious? (Dinton)

Written at Wang Estate in the rain

Still woods, smoke rising in the rain

I boil some grains for toilers’ fees

a pale crane flies along my lane

orioles warble’ in the forest trees

I wander, think of fortune, fame

under red pines* I practice peace

old man I am, don’t need my name

proclaimed - gulls cry ‘t over the seas**

(Ferryman)

* Red Pine is the name of a current translator of Chinese poetry —— ** Changed the drift a bit - the gulls now supplanting the city noises

MALUS 1

Written Outside the Wang Estate, in the Rain

it’s raining, steady skies

high tree leaves dump big drops

it’s warm - mists, vapors rise

clouds blur the mountain tops

my words are - ink blot - *wise

I write them in the rain

the ink’s run - big blot - -prise

in the_end, all - splotch! - in vain

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Living lazily by the Wang River (5. vs.)

輞川閒居

一從歸白社，不復到青門。時倚簷前樹，遠看原上村。

青菰臨水拔，白鳥向山翻。寂寞於陵子，桔槔方灌園。

Living lazily by the Wang River (5. vs.) Lazily contemplating the Nordic terns

Living here at the White Group Retreat I’m here and won’t return

I’ll never return to the city’s Green Gate to town’s crowned Golden Gate

Often I lean on a tree brushing the house I lean to_a tree, discern

and study villager on the distant meadows some men, on a remote estate

Green oats mirrored in river water white terns fly up, and turn

and white birds soaring to the mountains uphill to seek their fate

Lonely Yuling - who turned down a great post - Lone Yu, the man who’d spurn

is merely pailing water for his garden (Barnstones) the state, scoops water, late (Ferryman)

“White Group refers to a legend -wait for it - dairy rural gathering of ancient sages. Their meeting was supposed to take place to the east of present day Luoyang” —— “Yuling = at the mountain (???) was the name Chen Zhongzi gave to himself (the way I call myself ‘Ferryman’). The ancient sage loved country life and shunned official posts (as opposed to me who gets shunned by officials and has to put up with country life). Once the king of Chu send (sic) for him and sought his service, offering him a lot of gold, but he declined the offer for he preferred working as a gardener.

- Ferryman’s rendition, in the second line, contains a complete hidden clue to a certain one-way connection with someone in his own life. I think I did not know the word “pail” until I read the Barnstones’ translation …

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TWO, NAY, THREE MORE WANG RIVER POEMS

Playfully written on the wall at my Wheel Rim River Hermitage (7v.) Light Verse on Wang Chuan Cottage

Willow branches keep keep the ground swept: why cut them? low willows - down fondles my face

And pines grow tall here, tower up into clouds an beyond. high pines, my eye climbs up their crests

Wisteria blossoms darken into shadow hiding baby monkeys. lush growth, I enter, leave no trace

Cypress leaves take shape, open a scent musk-deer savor. Dinton my mind, freed, slows its pace, and rests (Ferryman)

On Leaving the Wang River retreat (5v.) On leaving the Wang River Estate

At last I put my carriage in motion giddy-yup, horse, it’s for real

Go sadly out from the ivied pines the golden gate* I close

Can I bear to leave these blue hills? bye, crippled lime, Crown Hill

And the green stream - what of that? (Robinson) will I return? God knows

* Ferry’s translation of *Golden Gate is inconsistent with elsewhere, where Ferry uses the same terms for the noisy, buzzing city with its sophisticated, cut-throat politics: but there is a allusion Haydn to something in Ferry’s personal life, he told me

And the third: :

In Reply to Su, Who Visite My Wheel-Rim River Hermitage

When I Wasn’t There to Welcome Him

I live humbly near the canyon’s mouth,

an overgrown village amid stately trees.

When you came on twisted rocky paths,

who welcomed you at my mountain gate?

Fishing boats frozen into icy shallows,

bunting fires out across cold headlands,

night gibbons heard among distant bells. (Dinton)

This is the reverse form of a commonly used genre in *Tang poetry, the going up a mountain to visit a recluse and not finding him in topic, of which we find an example below, in, alas! my own attempted translation into the mutilatingly restrictive 5-syllable wuji verse form I invented and should have soon abandoned.

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Visiting the Temple of Accumulated Fragrance

過香積寺

不知香積寺。樹立入雲峯。古木無人徑。深山何處鐘。

泉聲咽危石。日色冷青松。薄暮空潭曲。安禪制毒龍。

not know scent accumulate (*buddhist) monastery / number mile enter cloud peak / old tree not *man path / deep mountain where place bell

well sound choke dangerous/sharp stone / sun color *cold *blue/green pine / dusk (-) empty deep-water webwork / peace zen restrain poison dragon

This is not a Wang river poem - I once called it Bonus 1.

Visiting the Temple of Accumulated Fragrance Visiting Provision-Fragrance Monastery

I didn’t know where the temple was Provision-Fragrance beyond knowing,

Pushing mile on mile along the cloudy peaks I travel miles into cloud-hidden peaks,

Old trees, peopleless paths follow deserted trails past ancient trees.

Deep mountains, somewhere a bell A bell sounds, lost in the mountain depths.

Brook voices choke over craggy boulders Cragged rock swallows a creek’s murmur,

Sun rays turn cold in the green pines sunlight’s color cold among pines. Here

At dusk by the bed of a deserted pond on lakeshores, water empty, dusk spare,

A monk in meditation, taming poison dragons (Dr. Watson) ch’an* stillness masters poison dragons (Dinton)

This is one of the first Tang poems I ever read, and the line “somewhere a bell” from Dr. Watson’s translation still reverberates with me. That is why I include this famous nature poem here, even though in the context the monastery bell is expected to be heard, somewhere, which is contrary to the image I miraculously got in my mind. — The “poison dragons” are traditionally interpreted as illusions or passions which may stand in the way of enlightenment, although the source of the illusion has not been definitively determined. Zhao Diancheng cites a passage from the Nirvana Sutra which speaks of the fearsome and harmful dragons in one’s dwelling place. Burton Watson, however, (who is tone deaf Fm.) suggests that the line may ‘recall the tale of a poison dragon that lived in a lake and killed passing merchants until it was subdued by a certain Prince P’an-t’o through the use of spells (note the switch to Wade-Giles spelling Ns.). The dragon changed into a man and apologized for its evil ways’. Still another possible reference may be to the story of the *Buddha’s conversion of a poisonous dragon in a hermit’s which occurs in the Sanskrit text the *Ekkottaragama(1). According to Richard Wagner, Mahler, Mather, ‘the dragon, symbolizing hatred, attempted to overwhelm the *Buddha with the fire from its mouth, but the *Buddha, absorbed in a compassionate trance, shone more brilliantly then the dragon and ultimately subdued it’ . See his “The Landscape *Buddhism of the Fifth-Century Poet Hsieh Ling-yün (Xie Ling-yun),’ Journal of *Asian Studies, Vol. XIII, No. 1 (Nov. 1958).” (Polly) —— * Chan or Ch’an = zen

On Passing the Monastery of Accumulated Fragrance Een bezoek aan het Xiangli-klooster

Ignorant of the way to the Monastery of Acc. Frag., Onwetend waar het Xiangli-klooster ligt,

I wandered many miles through cloud-caught peaks Al vele mijlen in omwolkte pieken -

And ancient forests, spying no trace of human footstep. Het oude geboomte mist een mens’lijk pad,

Whence then, the faint peal of a temple bell? In de diepe bergen - waarvandaan de klok?

A gurgling stream chokes on treacherous rocks; Het brongeruis verstomt de steile rotsen

The dying sun flicks coldly through the blue pines. Het zonnelicht verkilt de groene dennen.

By a quiet pool designed for meditation Tegen de avond, bij de lege vijver -

I subdue the Poisonous Dragon, passion. (Chang/Walsmley) Mijn* meditatie onderwerpt de gifdraak. (Idema)

* (hij is het zelf, de monnik = Fm)

The Temple of Accumulated Fragrance

long miles midst cloudy crests

the shrine - where? - I can’t tell

dark paths no one contests

deep woods - somewhere a bell -

a golden sun’s last rays*

on moss yet cold - a well

forlorn, in_a filmy haze

a monk, fighting his spell

(Ferry)

* this image is of course borrowed from 5. Deer Grove (see => Wang River 1)

——————--

MALUS 2

Written on my own Wang Estate, in the Rain

it’s raining, steady skies

high tree leaves dump big drops

it’s warm - mists, vapors rise

clouds blur the mountain tops

my words are - ink blot - *wise

I write them in the rain

the ink run - big blot - prise

in the_end, all - splotch! - in vain

(王客兒, Wang Ke’r, tr. Ferryman)

*My words are deep and wise / I write them in the rain / the ink runs - oh surprise… / in the_end, all is in vain

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MALUS 3:

Two impressions after the following poem by Li Bai (Li T’ai Po),

by 王客兒 Wang Ke’r

————

Coming down from Chung-nan Mountain by Hu-szu’s hermitage,

he gave me rest for the night and set out the wine

At dusk I came down from the mountain

The mountain moon as my companion,

And looked behind at tracks I’d taken

That were blue, blue below the skyline:

You took my *arm, led me to your hut

Where small children drew hawthorn curtains

To green bamboos and a hidden path

With vines to brush the travelers’ clothes;

And I rejoiced at a place to rest

And good wine too, too, to pour out with you:

Ballads we sang, the wind in the pines,

Till, our songs done, Milky Way had passed;

And I was drunk and you were merry,

We had gaily forgotten the world!

Li Bai, (701-762), transl. A. Cooper, who seems to have a peculiar way to combine periods with brackets… Fm - “This is typical of Li Po’s occasional poems, a ‘bread-and-butter letter” to a friend who had entertained him. The ‘hermitage’ is not to be taken too seriously, and need mean no more than a country cottager. In the world of intriguing courtiers, everyone was pleased to be called a retired hermit; though the word used for ‘hermit’ here is in fact also a high Taoist Degree of Initiation. (‘The world’ at the end of the poem, though a fair translation of the word used, translates something that can itself mean ‘intrigue’.)”

Impression 1.

Cycling Down From Mount Marchairuz So Fast That, Even If Hu-szu’s Hermitage

Had Been There, I Wouldn’t Have Been Able To See It

sheer speed-intoxication

wind, wrestling with my pace

wild roaring wheels’ flirtation

with life’s hard core, embrace

of frontier’s exploration -

tall trees race past my face -

a Fiat’s stunned frustration

when - swash! - I take her space

王客兒, Cleveland, 10/4/2015,

Impression 2.

On Rushing Down a Mountain on Another Path to Surprise one’s

Girlfriend from Below, but She has Waited and Gone Back up Again

grasses coiling

wind blows by

nothing further

meets the eye

up the mountain

in a blur

dots, dots, inching

which one’s her?

Dated Kraków, Aug. 2000, as such rediscovered penned in my Arthur Cooper Li Po translation. The “poet” stayed behind on the top of Goat Fell on the isle of Arran in Scotland to gather inspiration, then rushed down the 2400 ft. mountain to rejoin the path on a spot below the girlfriend and her sister to surprise them - but the girls had waited somewhere on the path and gone up again to look for him in vain.

————————

As encore, from a tertiary source ...

Pink sea of lotus blooming in Luoshan Park

A line of birds up high, geese flying south

Two workmen walking down a winding path -

“… going to the Wang Bar Mitzvah, Saturday?”

王客兒, Cleveland, 2017,

”The courtyard ground is white - crows roost in the trees”

This line in a poem by Wang Jian (766 - 831 ?) we can get a good idea what made the courtyard look so white... This inspired me to write my ony poem in Tang style Chinese. It’s probably full of mistakes, but here it is, from 9/3/2017:

車白青買到 Chē bái, qīng măi dào My car is white, bought it shiny black

明月金上照 Míng yuè jīn shàng zhào the moon shines brightly on the metal

楓高聞嗥鸚 Fēng gāo wén háo yīng in the high maples, shrieks from parakeets

多少知不要 Duō shăo zhī bù yào how many there are, I don’t want to know

This attempt, and especially translating my own “poem”, reminds me of the art lessons I had to take in high school. Since the subject did not yield any credits, being the lazy dog I am, I never really worked for the class - until one time I decided to give it all my time and effort. The assignment was to make a drawing of an existing sculpture, statuette, figurine, whatever we could find. I was inspired, and did my very best to make it as true and beautiful as I could, and I was quite content with the result myself. Expecting more than my usual sixes or sevens, Ds and Cs, I turned it in; I got a 5, an F.

I had made one miscalculation: I had also made the statue. How could the teacher have known that what he thought was a lousy drawing of a good statue was in fact a good drawing of a lousy statue?

Finally, the parakeets are autobiographical. A couple of these green long-tailed birds once escaped the Brussels zoo, and they began to multiply. Resilient as they were, they soon took over the green girdle around the city, and I often heard them shriek when I lived there. There was little love lost between them and the locals, avian or human.

Rock Well

Sikong Shu (720 - 790)

先幽桐苔石

樂人陰色井

殘獨入遍

司陽汲寒春

空影時井石

曙

Moss color covers all the spring-lit rocks;

Lute-tree shade enters the chilly well.

When the recluse comes alone to draw water

He first enjoys the sun’s last rays

(Archie)

———-

Rock Well

Alternative version

Huge stands, metallic shiny

Black boxes everywhere, and keyboards stapled

Screeching guitars, clear soprano beltin’

Awakening forgotten powers in me

Sudden silence - linden branches drooping

A girly girl apologizes:

“No good, it still don’t rock well”

Ferryman, Cleveland, 2017,

And finally, the poem from which the line about a falcon was taken in the first part of this little series:

Zhang Jiuling

Bewailing my lot # 1

張九齡，感遇其一

孤鴻海上來，池潢不敢顧。側見雙翠鳥，巢在三珠樹。

矯矯珍木巔，得無金丸懼？美服患人指，高明逼神惡。

今我遊冥冥，弋者何所慕！

Lone goose sea on come / pond (-s) not dare look-back / Side see pair kingfisher (-) / nest in three-pearl tree

Elevated (-) treasure tree peak get not metal pellet fear / beautiful clothes worry man point-at exalted - coerce god hate

Now I travel beyond-reach (-) / fowler (-) what place desire

Lone goose adrift above the sea

afraid to contemplate sweet waters

tests on its cruise, kingfisher couple

nesting in the Three Pearl Tree.

Does this tree’s blessed canopy

high crest of fortune, pampered, buttered

not draw the archer’s arrow,

society’s demon’s jealousy?

while I, so far, so fully out of reach,

what could the fowler want from me?

(Ferryman)

“Kingfisher’s feathers were appreciated for their ornamental value. A bird ‘from the extreme south’ (I have seen them in Holland though …), it could easily become associated with the three-pearl tree, a mythical cypress with pearls on its branches, also from the South” - Archie)

As said in Part One, I was struck by the freedom in the last line - while being disappointed by the particularity of the rest, once I found the whole poem. It did shed light on the genius of Li Bai’s falcon, from the picture also in Part One, which safeguarded the universal character of all its words.

Below a translation from a Chinese source on line. It keeps to the Chinese rhyme schedule. It also reflects the typical ‘more-catholic-than-the-pope’ overly correct and flowery English so often used by Chinese intellectuals, which is so perfectly and hilariously captured in Woody Allen’s Hollywood Ending in the juxtaposition between the hysterical Chinese camera director and the young translator.

THOUGHTS I

A lonely swan from the sea flies,

To alight on puddles it does not deign.

Nesting in the poplar of pearls

It spies and questions green birds twain:

"Don't you fear the threat of slings,

Perched on top of branches so high?

Nice clothes invite pointing fingers,

High climbers god's good will defy.

Bird-hunters will crave me in vain,

For I roam the limitless sky."

(Dee-Yin Nernette)