Moscow Don is Trending Lately

Hey what's new on the Rialto?

Moscow Don is trending lately it seems

In the year of the Dog finally

Becoming his very own meme

The Congressman is smirking

Not so benignly

And it's the henchman's turn

To spin his own scheme

Now that we can

Read between the lines

We notice the lines

Have begun to fade

I'm sure

I think

I guess

And all the variants

In between

We see our world

Grow ever more

Incorporeal

And indistinct
From deep inside
The belly of the meme 

White Cloud Nursery (by Bai Juyi)

After a break of a few weeks I returned to my translation practice this morning, picking up where I left off with one of my all-time favorites, Bai Juyi.

Up in the plains of Heaven

Above the mountaintops where

White clouds spring to life

To speak of what comes forth

Without the least effort

Flowing naturally as from

The soul at rest

Never rushing

Nor hurtling headlong

Against the mountains

Down below

Being continually replenished

A tidal wave from heaven

That sweeps towards earth

白云泉

白居易

天平山上白云泉

云自无心水自闲

何必奔冲山下去

更添波浪向人间

There's a short backstory to explain why I chose this poem to translate this morning.  During my spin through Twitter this morning I came across a striking photo of what looked like a new galaxy being born.   The photo (which was posted by @GeneVatow ) was accompanied by a brief explanation: We came out of warp in the star nursery, and saw the fledgling stars' birthing glow. An hour or so later as I was looking through Bai Juyi's collected works, the title of this poem leapt out at me, as being a Tang precursor of the same vision - a glimpse into the nebulous origins of the universe - not a bad way to start the day after all.

In the Din of an Infernal City

In the din

Of the infernal city

Where every minute

You aren't drilling

Someone else may be

Sneaking ahead

We’ve transformed ourselves

Into rats trapped in the most

Elaborate maze and

The whole drama of

Our catch and release

Is being played out

On a proscenium stage
Inside our own head

Detail From Botticelli's drawing Chart of Hell


*  *  *  *  *

Call and Response - Bai Juyi and Me

Call and response is a musical form, where one musical phrase or line is complemented by another voice or instrument answering in return.  It is a very common feature in African music and may be understood as an expression of a democratic or participatory impulse to include a multiplicity of voices as part of a song or celebration.

For me it has become an important part of my practice of poetry and translation.  I find my own impulse to write is often directly stimulated by reading another poet's work.  I don't think of this as a way of writing that is merely derivative or slavishly emulates another poet so much as trying to respond back in a way that meaningfully adds to or complements the original call.   In a sense, I don't think any poem or song (no matter how well composed) is every so complete that it may not benefit from an answering refrain.

Here's the latest example of call and response in action.  The original call is a short poem by Bai Juyi.  It's one of my favorite Tang poems of all time - concise, lyrical and more than a little mysterious in its phrasing.  I wrote a short responding poem just the other day.  The immediate prompt for my response was this great photo I came across on my Twitter feed.  (Many thanks to Jim Clayton - @jimclayton05 for giving me permission to repost it here.)  Something about the image brought to mind the Bai Juyi poem and I immediately scrawled out my answering refrain which also appears below.

Flower Without Flower

Flower without flower
Mist without mist
At midnight arriving
As Heaven's light dims

Dream of springtime fresh
But how long will it remain
A cloud lingers until dawn
Then disperses without a trace

花非花

花非花
雾非雾
夜半来
天明去
来如春
梦不多时
去似朝云
无觅处

Flower Within Flower

Flower within flower

Leaf within leaf

A memory so well preserved

Now posed in stark relief

Desiccant in autumn

By winter winds frayed

A silhouette of summer’s glory

Decayed yet full of grace

Now all that's wanting is for me to translate my responding poem into Chinese so that Bai Juyi will be able to write another verse in good measure.

  

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The Seasons Turning (by Tao Yuan Ming)

After a few days of chill drenching rain, today brought a fresh new front of clear warming air.  No doubt I'm skipping too far ahead but I found it hard on my morning walk not to entertain the first hint of spring, and the robins perched high in the tree tops seemed to sense it too, as they faced to the east, and bathed in the morning's warming sunlight.  In that frame of mind, upon returning to my desk, it was hard to resist the temptation of seizing the moment to translate a first poem of spring, in the hope of spurring the seasons along in their turning.  This is the first part of a four stanza poem by Tao Yuan Ming and I will try to post the rest of it later this week, assuming the weather continues to cooperate.

Step by step

The seasons turn

In solemn procession

Like a noble head of state

Now comes the garb of spring

What meager words I possess

To describe these eastern regions

The hillsides bathed

In a clinging mist

The heavens obscured

By a lowering sky

But a gentle southern breeze

Brings promise of new growth

Straight ahead

时运四首

陶渊明

迈迈时运

穆穆良朝

袭我春服

薄言东郊

山涤馀霭

宇暧微霄

有风自南

翼彼新苗