Another delay, I’m sorry! Something big happened last week. I can’t say anything about it right now, but I will when the time is right.
Anyways, to any new people joining us today, this post is part of a series. The previous instalment is here. The tag is “snake fish thing” ( I couldn’t think of a better title )
羽民国在其东南，其为人长头，身生羽。一曰在比翼鸟东南，其为人长颊。
The Feather-Folk nation is to the southeast. Its people are long-headed, and feathers grow on their bodies. It is said to be to the southeast of the Joint-Wing birds, and its people have long faces.
-From the Classic of Southern Lands Beyond the Seas ( 海外南经 )
I followed the flight of the joint-wing birds until the seas gave way to sloping dunes. I met a fellow wanderer there. He was from a land just a little further south, he said, and he’d only recently started on his journey. It wasn’t hard to tell; in the distance, a walled settlement was visible, and a couple of downy strands still poked out from his mane of long feathers.
He asked if he could join me.
What could I say but yes?
Translation
“Feather-Folk” - I thought the literal translation of “羽民” would be more fitting.
“…long faces.” The word “颊” translates to “cheeks,” but I felt “faces” made more sense. I’m not quite sure what “long cheeks” is meant to evoke. Jowls?
Art
The patterns on the Feather-Folk boy are drawn from another part of my background, the signature patterns of Thai art. I’m admittedly not that very good at them, but drawing those patterns is something of an instinct. I can’t help but add them to everything, even my books!
His appearance was inspired by another obsession of mine as well, the art that came out of what is now Egypt during the reign of Akhenaten. Despite it being labelled “odd” and “ugly,” I honestly find the art of that period quite appealing. The boy’s appearance is in part drawn from the depictions of people, though I used more sharp angles and straight lines as opposed to the curved forms you’d find there.
The background is meant to be ambiguous. Dunes? Waves? I’ll leave it up to your interpretation.
This is sort of a continuation to the previous Weekly SHJ. As in 1) the passage below directly follows the one from last week, and 2) I’ve created something of a narrative thread between the instalments.
比翼鸟在其东，其为鸟青、赤，两鸟比翼。一曰在南山东。
The joint-winged birds are to the east. They are blue-green and crimson, and two birds fly on shared wings. It is said they are to the east of South Mountain.
-From the Classic of Southern Lands Beyond the Seas ( 海外南经 )
Red bird,
be my wing.
I cannot be whole
without it.
Green bird,
stay beside me.
Take me across the mountains.
I don’t know what we’ll find
across the ridge,
but just the feeling
of flight on joined wings
the sky above and mountains below
is enough.
Translation
“…to the east.” - I know I just translated “其[direction]” as “to its [direction]” in the last post, but in retrospect, “to the [direction]” would make it work better, both as a standalone excerpt and in the context of the work as a whole.
“..blue-green…” - “青” is honestly one of the most difficult concepts to translate. It’s not just a single colour, but a whole spectrum, from bright green to intense blue. “Blue-green” has become my go-to translation for the word.
“…and two birds fly on shared wings.” - The word “比” in this context is difficult to explain; it’s something like “put them together,” “put them side-by-side.”A more literal translation would be “two birds put wings together.” I decided against that because it felt too vague. Went for something that would paint a clearer image instead, while still trying to keep the economy of the language.
Art
While the text just refers to these guys as “birds,” I’ve always imagined them as looking like waterfowl of some sort, particularly ducks or herons ( the former was probably because I’d been subconsciously influenced by the symbolism of mandarin ducks in Chinese culture ). I decided to combine the characteristics of the two types of bird and sprinkle in my usual funky patterns.
The blue-green bird’s design was also partly drawn from a description of the joint-wing birds from a later chapter, the Classic of the Great Western Wilderness ( 大荒西经 ):
有比翼之鸟。有白鸟青翼，黄尾，玄喙。
There are birds of conjoined wings. There are white birds with blue-green wings, yellow tails, dark beaks.
Writing
I imagined a sort of rhythm throughout the poem. I guess this could be considered a reverse tone poem- the music came first, the words settled into the beat later.
It may not seem like it, but I swear there’s a connection between this and the previous instalment ( apart from the little cameo of the snake-fish ). It’s that feeling of discovery, of exploration.
Speaking of the snake-fish, we’ll see more of them in the next instalment. Stay tuned!
South Mountain is to its southeast. On this mountain, bugs become snakes and snakes become fish. It is said that South Mountain is to the southeast of the Knotted Chest Kingdom.
-From the Classic of Southern Lands Beyond the Seas ( 海外南经 )
I live in a world that is always changing, rearranging itself in patterns that only it may understand. None may know its rhythm, but all of us feel it; whenever the world shifts, so do I.
For some time I was a warrior, armed with pincers and impenetrable plates upon my back. Then I was some sort of shiny, slippery thing that lurked soundlessly in the cloud forests. Sometimes I walked on two legs, other times on a hundred, and other times still I found myself able to move on no legs at all.
The only thing that remained constant was my mind, though that would begin to change too…
I found myself thinking about what it would be like if I didn’t have to follow the movements of the world around me. If- if it was even possible that is- I was the one deciding which direction to go.
My thoughts led me to a rock pool, tucked away on a pine-shaded mountainside. There I’d find my answer.
It came in a ripple. A flash of scales, a flick of fins, the pull of the water. Tying it all together was an unfamiliar feeling- more of a realisation, really.
I am here, in this body, in this world.
I have been confined for a long time in that bubble that I thought was the real world, but it was really just a little corner of the vast wholeness that is really out there. The mountains and the seas, the great stretches of wilderness that lie in between and the uncharted places to be found beyond.
Now I see the world for the first time. And it is beautiful, all of it.
It is a place of joy and tragedy, unthinkable wonders and questions that I may never find the answers to. It is easy to get lost, but I will find a way. Even if there seems to be no path in sight, I will make one myself. Because now, I am the one who’s in control of this body, this life.
The path I’m going to take is nobody’s decision to make but mine.
…
I am bound to shift again someday. Now, though, I am content. For the first time, it is my own current that leads me.
And we’re back! Instead of being a standalone thing, this is the first of a series ( that’s why I took so long ).
Translation
“South Mountain” - The context of this passage makes it more likely that “南山” is the name of an individual mountain, rather than a reference to the Southern Mountains as a whole.
“…to its southeast.” - “It” in this case is the Knotted Chest Kingdom ( 结匈国 ).
“…snakes become fish.” - “号” means to mark, indicate, something like that. “为” in this context is used as a particle, similar to the usage of “as” after a verb. A more literal translation would be “snakes are marked as fish,” but that sounded awkward and almost nonsensical to me.
Art
I was in the mood for some symbolism, and the concept of transformation jumped out at me. The imagery of snakes and the implied aquatic habitat also really motivated me to capture that sense of fluidity associated with the concept.
The scene made me recall how I once discovered a rock pool while on a school trip to a mountain. I don’t remember where it was, but it had those fish that eat dead skin in it. I remember trying to catch some with my bare hands, but only grasping water since they’d all swim away.
There is a beast whose form is like a white hound’s, with a black head. When it sees a person, it flies off. Its name is Tiānmǎ, and it calls its own name.
-From the Classic of the Northern Mountains ( 北山经 )
Zzzzzip! There it goes, streaking through space! Anyone might mistake it for a comet. But listen closely, and you’ll hear the sound of “Tianma! Tianma!” ringing from above. This is no ordinary falling star- it’s a living creature.
Translation
“Tiānmǎ” - The name literally means “sky-horse,” which somewhat fits, considering how it flies and it’s… kind of like a horse in that it goes really fast, I guess? Still decided against using the literal translation.
“…like a white hound’s…” - The word used here is “犬.” While I could translate that to “dog,” it is distinct from the more commonly used ( nowadays, at least ) word for dog, “狗.” The Shānhǎijīng contains instances of both words, and I feel like it’s important to make a distinction between the two. So, I’ve decided to translate “犬” as “hound” and “狗” as “dog.” Those of you familiar with Irish Gaelic may understand; I study the language as well, and I’ve noticed a similar difference between the words “cú” and “madra.”
Art
I feel like this one didn’t come out so well. But anyways, I knew I wanted to make it simplistic-looking ( despite this, I used more effects on the background than I can count with my hands ). I also imagined the tiānmǎ with a star marking on its head and a flowing tail, something like a comet. A furry comet. With legs and pointy ears.
At the centre of the Great Wilderness, there is a mountain called Sky-Tower Mountain. The waters of the seas flow through here.
-From the Classic of the Great Southern Wilderness ( 大荒南经 )
The conjunction of Mountain, Sea, and Heaven, the very heart of the world.
A/N: Finally! The first thing on this blog that isn’t a bird! I was in the mood to paint some landscapes- this blog is called mountainsea-chronicles, after all.
Translation
“Sky-Tower” - I chose to literally translate the name so I can convey that sense of grandeur in English as well. And yes, I could’ve gone for “Celestial Pagoda” or something like that, but I didn’t want to fall into the trap of sounding overdramatic, which I feel like a lot of Chinese translations tend to do ( in fact, that’s the exact reason I choose to translate these works myself. While of course, Chinese and English are two different languages, I try my best to carry the concise yet elegant nature of classical Chinese over to the English translation. )
“…the Great Wilderness” - Before this blog was created, I’d had a go at translating little bits of the Shānhǎijīng for personal reference and to share with friends ( if any of you are reading this, thanks for putting up with all my insane literary rants. I owe you all. ) I always found myself torn between whether to translate “荒” as “wilderness” or “wasteland.” While “wasteland” is a more accurate definition of the word, the context begs to differ. The Great Wilderness volumes all give a window into lands of flowing rivers, abundant wildlife, and perhaps most damning of all- civilisation. Hardly a “wasteland.” “Wilderness” also has an adventurous sort of vibe to it that I quite like.
Art
I feel like with each post, my addiction to spray paint brushes becomes more obvious. This one’s full of spray paint textures.
The pagoda is there because of a little thing called artistic licence- I figured, why not have an actual sky-tower on Sky-Tower?
Four hundred li to the east is [a place] called Lìngqiū mountain. It has no grass or trees and much fire. To the south of it is a valley called the Middle Valley, from whence tendrils of wind flow out. There is a bird whose appearance is like an owl’s, human-faced, four-eyed, and with ears. Its name is Yóng, and it calls its own name.
-From the Classic of Southern Mountains ( 南山经 )
I wandered to a far mountain
where no tree was to be seen
but fires blazed through night and day
and winds whistled through the ravines
There lived a creature in these parts,
making its nest amidst the gale’s howl
Though its face beguiled, its eyes burned bright
and its body was that of an owl’s
And high above this cursèd place
it sang its dissonant song
It rings in my ears yet-
“Yong! Yong! Yong!”
A/N: This week’s one came a bit late, sorry about that! I had a lot on my plate.
It’s complete coincidence that this week’s installment is a bird from the Southern Mountains like last week’s. While I was thinking of what to feature this week, I was reminded of the yóng and wasn’t paying attention to details like that.
Translation
“…the Middle Valley.” - Decided to use the literal translation of the name as opposed to “Zhōng Valley” since it felt more appropriate.
“…tendrils of wind…” - The word “条” is a measure word generally used for things that are long, in strands, etc. This was my best attempt at trying to capture that image in English.
“…it calls its own name.” - “号” means “marker” or something along those lines. An indicator of identity. A more literal translation would be “its call marks/signifies itself,” but I went with “it calls its own name” because that conveys the idea better, in my opinion.
Art
When I picked out this creature, I knew I had to include the description of the area along with it. The image of this eerily human-faced bird of prey framed by fire and smoke drifting in the wind was just too dramatic to not draw. It’s also quite a hyperbolic way to express the creature’s significance as an omen of drought.
There’s more to it than that. The word for “owl” used here ( 枭, xiāo ) is an onomatopoiea of the word for “reduce” ( 消, same pinyin ), also a component of words like “annihilate” ( 消灭, xiāomiè ) and “disappear” ( 消失, xiāoshī ). Fitting for a scene like this, isn’t it?
As for the owl itself, it’s modelled off an Eurasian eagle owl. I considered a barn owl due to its ( somewhat ) human-looking face, but decided that would be too obvious. I ended up choosing the Eurasian eagle owl due to various other reasons: the mention of the “ears” in the text; the large, powerful appearance; and the fact it can be spotted in the real-world equivalent of its range, down in South China.
Caption
I was at a loss for the caption at first, but then, for whatever reason, I suddenly thought of Shelley’s Ozymandias and various Edgar Allan Poe poems. Hence… this. It’s not meant to be good or anything, if anything, it’s supposed to be kind of cheesy ( as a lot of old poetry tends to be ).
There is a bird whose appearance is like a fowl’s, five-coloured and patterned. Its name is Fènghuáng. The pattern on the head is called “morals,” the pattern on the wings is called “righteousness,” the pattern on the back is called “propriety,” the pattern on the breast is called “compassion,” and the pattern on the stomach is called “trustworthiness.” It is a bird, and consumes what it naturally does. It sings and dances, and a sighting of it signifies peace in the land.
-From the Classic of the Southern Mountains ( 南山经 )
They’re patchwork quilts of birds, the fènghuáng. The old folks say the patterns on them represent the Five Virtues, some old philosophical thing nobody really listens to anymore ( personally, though, I think we could use a little more compassion these days ).
A/N: Hey, it’s the first instalment of Weekly Shanhaijing! I was debating between featuring either a fan favourite ( fènghuáng, the dragons, the nine-tailed fox, etc. ) or one of my personal favourites, but decided on the former. Start things off with something iconic.
Some more notes:
On the translation
“…like a fowl’s…” - The word “鸡” nowadays usually means “chicken,” but also refers to pheasants in a literary context like this. I decided to use the general word “fowl” to convey this. We’ll see a similar issue with the word “狸” later on.
“…five-coloured…” - The literal translation of “五彩” is “five-coloured,” but it’s really a more figurative way to say “multicoloured.” I used the literal translation because I felt it captured the feeling of it better.
On the art
The patterns were based on the impressions the words gave me, if that makes sense. I’ve always imagined sounds, letters, numbers, etc. having colours ( though as far as I’m aware, I don’t have synesthesia ), and based each pattern on the colours and textures I imagined for both the original and translated words. The legs and the base part of the tail were painted with the head pattern to balance things out ( there was an attempt ) while I just went wild with the rest of the tail. I also had to put the back pattern on the wing instead because there wasn’t much space on the back.
