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.

  

-->

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

   

A Rainy Night (by Bai Juyi)

So much rain we've been having, the frozen earth has given way to a pliant, soggy mess underfoot.  Yesterday I had a chance to resume my translation practice and I found this lovely poem to translate by Bai Juyi, appropriately enough, called Rainy Night.  After a hiatus of several weeks it felt good to be immersing myself in Chinese characters again, puzzling them out as the rain beat steadily on the roof overhead.

I’m somewhat reflective

Living apart

Far off in the country

I’m somewhat drawn to events

They register deep in my gut

From my native place

I dare not stray far

Not today

Nor far in the future

In the depth of my being

It must not be otherwise

Not tonight

Not as I see it

In the present situation

Lamplight disturbs

The night

Sitting alone

In this empty room

Autumn is passing by

Dawn is yet to come

The wind and rain

Continue apace

In a dim gray light

Not studying

The monastic way

But following the heart

Tranquil so we may forget

夜雨

白居易

我有所念人

隔在远远乡

我有所感事

结在深深肠

乡远去不得

无日不瞻望

肠深解不得

无夕不思量

况此残灯夜

独宿在空堂

秋天殊未晓

风雨正苍苍

不学头陀法

前心安可忘

-->