[Book Rec + Reaction/Thoughts] The Lantern and the Night Moths 灯与夜蛾 by Yilin Wang
An anthology of translated poems by five modern or contemporary poets and accompanying essays by the translator, @yilinwriter.
You can find the pronunciation guide and list of corrections here!
The cover art, a beautiful expression of the tone of this collection, is by Taiwanese artist Ciaoyin (check out her gorgeous insta!). I'm looking forward to the arrival of the physical book as my tab absolutely does not do it justice xD
Anyway! The official release date is 02 April 2024 though there have been some very thoughtful reviews by early readers already. Here, here, here and here.
(It was an ARC that I received too… though in the time it took to put this together, the ebooks have already gone out to readers >.< typical snail yj!)
Instead, I’ll tell you who I think would be interested in this book or might benefit from reading it, then share things that are cool about it from the perspective of a bilingual hobbyist translator + lover of ancient poetry and lyrics.
Who should read it?
If annotations, translator’s notes and reflections spark joy for you...
If you’ve ever read poetry translations and been intensely curious about what goes on under the hood...
If you’re a translator yourself wanting to hear another voice...
Definitely check this out!
Also if you’re CN+EN bilingual and have ever read something in English that references Chinese terms and concepts etc. except ONLY in English, pinyin or wade-giles and been utterly frustrated by the ensuing guessing game (like me) Fear Not.
That will not be a problem here.
I really appreciate how Chinese words are used naturally where needed for concepts and quotes - they are also translated for those who can't read Chinese so no one is left out. It made this book of and about translation (and more) super comfortable to read! The solution is so simple, so direct, so rarely used that I am amused.
Oh, but do note that the Chinese characters are in simplified though!
The poems are organised by their writers who are listed here by order of birth year, not appearance in the book:
秋瑾 (Qiu Jin, 1875 to 1907)
废名 (Fei Ming. 1901 to 1967)
戴望舒 (Dai Wangshu, 1905 to 1950)
小西 (Xiao Xi, 1974 to _)
张巧慧 (Zhang Qiaohui, 1978 to _)
Altogether, that covers nearly the last 150 years up to now. I’ve never really been into poetry by poets in such relatively recent times, in part because I’d been holding on to this stereotype of them spurning Classical Chinese and ancient poetry in the first half of the 20th century (not entirely true, as I came to realise xD). It made sense and was understandable, but felt sad.
Yet am I the target audience for this book?
Very much so.
In ways I didn’t think I would be too! It was so much fun to experience this both as a reader and a translator that I thought I’d share it here, where we are appreciating Chinese poetry together.
If you didn’t think you’d enjoy modern Chinese poetry, hey, give it a chance!
Oh yeah - on the way home a while back, I was talking to a friend about translation and was surprised to hear that her impression was that it ought to be a straightforward process. Like isn’t it a 1:1 conversion? At some point, ‘what’s the difference between something google translate might return, and how you would say it?’ was asked, and oh that was a delightful question to my ears! I showed her one of my comparison sheets where an original text is laid out alongside multiple translations line-by-line, briefly explaining some common and unique choices and how the people who had translated those probably arrived at the various interpretations. She was pretty amazed to see that the answer to her question was: very different. Hey, it’s a complicated process!
But there’s only so much one can explain in the space of a train ride. That’s why The Lantern and the Night Moths is a book I would also rec to someone like this friend of mine - open minded and curious but never having the chance to think about or encounter the craft of translation.
Like Yilin says, ‘the meaning of a word cannot be fully expressed in one single translation, nor through a series of translation attempts’. She then explains why with great attention to detail and some solid examples from one of the poems with word choices loaded with subtle connotations :D
What's interesting about it?
Okay, for one, Yilin shared a playlist of music that she listened to while working on this book. Here is the link to the spotify one and the one on youtube. Check them out! They sure put me in the mood to read xD (favs: 别知己, 小神仙 & 去有風的地方) Afterwards, this made so much sense like - ah! an audio moodboard.
She's also putting together these adorable mini profiles of each poet along with a cmedia and tea rec to match their vibes. Go see them on her instagram xD
Now to business...
structure
What really helped keep the reader’s focus was the way each section is organized, how the poems and accompanying essay were presented and finally the short bio of each person right at the end.
The poets are first introduced through five or six of their poems, works well suited to this purpose. Their voices, distinct through the vision, ambition and emotion of their words, are brought across by Yilin’s sensitive, thoughtful and poetic translations into English. These translations were also creative and transformative in a way that made so much sense after reading one of her reflections on the process, how she ‘must guide it with gentle hands to ensure its spirit is kept alive and intact during this transformative, and often excruciating process’. A rebirth into another language!
Personally, I’ve come to think of reading translations as looking at a work through another’s eyes. So it’s delightful when the translator’s presence is discernible, and even more so when the reader is given insight into their intention and process via commentary.
Yilin’s essays coupled with the poets’ bios at the end provide a means to go back and appreciate their works in context of their circumstance and inspirations. Similarly, to read the translations with a changed perspective.
I don’t know how much of a thing this is with translated poetry anthologies in English - can count the number I’ve read with both hands lol, and they’re all of the ancient chinese poetry variety - but I really like this design.
drawing on poets who came before them
Remember how we’re always recognizing traces of inspiration from ancient works (to them) in poetry of the various dynasties? 李商隐 Li Shangyin of Tang for example, was influenced by 楚辞 Verses of Chu and folklore and mythology such as that in 山海经 Classic of Mountains and Seas, 李白 Li Bai frequently references poets and history of the 魏晋 Wei-Jin era, and 王维 Wang Wei was clearly familiar with Buddhist scriptures which were translations themselves!
Just like the late Táng poets whom he praised for boldly deviating from the voices before them, Fei Ming used popular references and tropey shorthands ‘in contexts utterly different from the original, reimagining them anew’. Dai Wangshu, too, ‘boldly re-envisioned what modern poetry could look like by revisiting the classics’. In fact, in his very relatable ‘To Answer the Visitor with Classical Imagery’, I see Li Bai’s 春夜宴桃李园序, Qu Yuan’s 离骚 and lots of - as the title says - classical imagery, as if pulling out painting after painting to describe a feeling.
And Dai Wangshu’s faith in the translatability of poetry, that ‘poetry isn’t what is lost in translation, but rather, what survives it’ reminds me of what a friend, @xiakeponz, said that I agree with so much - because readers can ‘experience something in their own individual way through (your) shared humanity rather than language alone’.
poetic tradition and beyond
Between the lines of contemporary poets Zhang Qiaohui and Xiao Xi, I can really see the charm of plain vernacular, how it can be beautiful, incisive and clever in turns. Even as it seems to have moved further than ever from the structure and language of literary Chinese, the themes that inspired common motifs remain a part of life. Mother and divinity, homesickness, finding oneself, tributes to admirable spirits and the issues that trouble society - just in a new form and with different ways of expression.
Qiu Jin
So many FEELINGS about what Qiu Jin was doing - ‘I awaken the spirits of women, hundreds of flowers, abloom’. I would love if she could see the world now. So many things for her to rouse and fight against, but at the same time just as many to be proud of. I am so in awe of her, but now hearing her loneliness and struggle there is a soft spot in my heart for those too.
conclusion
So so so…
Qiu Jin’s admirable fire and lonely resolve. Zhang Qiaohui’s precious ability to express beauty in the mundane and in pain. Fei Ming’s utter delight! He is having so much fun and when* I’m vibing, I feel it too. Xiao Xi’s critical eye and keen observation of the world. Dai Wangshu’s whimsical charm and passion for translation. Finally, Yilin Wang, the connecting thread wound through them all, bringing them together so that we may be acquainted.
*Reading his poetry is like unwrapping a seamless, many layered present. A gift that keeps giving - if only you have a key 😅 Fortunately, Yilin has halved our struggle 🤣
I’ve had such a great time with them all. And if you come, I hope you will too!
I dreamed that I was a mirror:
So even under the sea, he still would be a mirror
That a young woman picks up
And sets on her dressing table.
Since she makes herself beautiful here
No sorrow is allowed.
Fei Ming (廢名), "The Dressing Table", The Flowering of Modern Chinese Poetry: An Anthology of Verse from the Republican Period, tr. Herbert Batt and Sheldon Zittner
不是想说着空山灵雨，
There had been no intention to speak of falling rain, magical in the deserted mountain,
也不是想着虚谷足音，
nor had there been thoughts of the echoing footsteps in the empty valley;
又是一翻意中糟粕，
yet again as expected, a page, all dregs,
依然是宇宙的尘土，—
it is still but a speck of dust, dirt of the universe —
檐外一声麻雀的叫唤，
Beyond the eaves, there came the sound of a sparrow’s chirp.
是的，诗稿请纸灰飞扬了。
That’s right, the poem made its invite, the ashes of paper have taken flight.
虚空是一点爱惜的深心。
The Emptiness is a little part of the heart which loves and cherishes deeply.
宇宙是一颗不损坏的飞尘。
The universe is a mote of dust, indestructible, soaring.
………………………………………………………………………………………….
NOTES
Don’t know what the poet was thinking of when he wrote this, but reading it, I was hit with a strong sense of deja-vu - even though I barely write xD - and then came the warmth, because this was so very comforting. There is also a hmmm, vibe? of Buddhist thought? that chimes through the piece. I don’t know how to tease that out in English though, and made no attempt to.
Just sharing what went through my mind!
There was a line from this exhilaratingly whimsical song that went:
快意只 笔下讨
Gratification can only be claimed from beneath the brush
In which the word 讨, translated as ‘claim’, can actually be read as begged/asked for/bargained for. But hey, what happens when the creation process hits a snag? What if you never took off in the first place? No joy. Only words that come like blood extracted from a stone. At least it isn’t disappointing; you expected to fail, and fail you did - the words are ‘dregs’ and do not convey what you envisioned. A whole lot of nothing in this world that already has loads of great works - less than ‘a whole lot’ and more like a speck of dirt. You’ve bricked yourself in within this house of negativity.
But the chirp of a tiny creature beyond this confined space is like a chiming bell that recalls you from that mental space.
The motif of a sound from without sparking sudden understanding or inspiring clarity is so lovely! If you like it too, then check these out: x x
Note: I set this line apart in the translation to emphasize that effect it had for me though the original text did not.
Because when you picked up a pen in the first place, you were setting out from a place of love - whether it’s for telling a story, giving voice to something voiceless, or something else. And there is a bit of yourself and that love in every creation, whether you realize it or not. Though it may be hidden by your perceived dust, it’s still there.
The manuscript is not ‘dregs’ of anything. It’s just paper. But if you set it ablaze, even the soot and dust can fly.
I guess for me, this is about: The awkward and painful process of searching for meaning and expression, and a reminder to uncover the appreciation and love that was there all along, actually, right there - deep within us. True realization and acceptance of this will set us free.
A noise from the street:
The voice of my father, calling my baby-name, then silence.
Fei Ming (廢名), from Assorted Poems, The Flowering of Modern Chinese Poetry: An Anthology of Verse from the Republican Period, tr. Herbert Batt and Sheldon Zittner
As I sit reading
I hear from the street the blind beggar's cry
Then the laugh of my friend mimicking him.
Fei Ming (廢名), from Assorted Poems, The Flowering of Modern Chinese Poetry: An Anthology of Verse from the Republican Period, tr. Herbert Batt and Sheldon Zittner
As though, perhaps, he wanted to take a pot of flowers
Into his grave with him.
Fei Ming (廢名), from "A Pot of Flowers", The Flowering of Modern Chinese Poetry: An Anthology of Verse from the Republican Period, tr. Herbert Batt and Sheldon Zitner
