Du Fu, Ballad of the fine fair Lady
In war, it is often civilians who suffer
the most. Especially women. Du Fu shows this point blank. The translation
is footnoted moderately, but a stupidly detailed commentary on the poem follows
the original text.
Translated from Chinese by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original Chinese in a reconstruction of Táng-era literary pronunciation
Translated from Chinese by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original Chinese in a reconstruction of Táng-era literary pronunciation
Beyond
compare, a fine fair lady
Dwells nameless, now, in a desolate vale.
She says her family once was noble.
She lives on grass, now, poor and pale.
When they had seized Chang'an, the rebels
Murdered her brothers one and all.
High offices availed them nothing.
She got no corpse for funeral.
The world more fickle than windblown lanterns,
Disdains what is agèd or decayed.
Her faithless husband soon replaced her
With a new mistress, fair as jade.1
The silk-tree's leaves know to curl for evening.
A mateless mandarin duck can't sleep.2
But he just sees his new woman smiling.
How can he hear this old one weep?
They say pure springwater runs in the mountains
But from the mountains a fouled mud rolls.3
Her servant sells her pearls, returning
To pile live vines on their thatch roof's holes.
Cypress she plucks scarce numbs her hunger.
Flowers she picks grace not her hair.4
On the lean bamboo she slumps in sundown
Her blue sleeves thin in the cold harsh air.
Dwells nameless, now, in a desolate vale.
She says her family once was noble.
She lives on grass, now, poor and pale.
When they had seized Chang'an, the rebels
Murdered her brothers one and all.
High offices availed them nothing.
She got no corpse for funeral.
The world more fickle than windblown lanterns,
Disdains what is agèd or decayed.
Her faithless husband soon replaced her
With a new mistress, fair as jade.1
The silk-tree's leaves know to curl for evening.
A mateless mandarin duck can't sleep.2
But he just sees his new woman smiling.
How can he hear this old one weep?
They say pure springwater runs in the mountains
But from the mountains a fouled mud rolls.3
Her servant sells her pearls, returning
To pile live vines on their thatch roof's holes.
Cypress she plucks scarce numbs her hunger.
Flowers she picks grace not her hair.4
On the lean bamboo she slumps in sundown
Her blue sleeves thin in the cold harsh air.
Notes:
1 The husband has jilted her. Why? The answer is provided in the previous quatrain. Presumably while her brothers were alive and in positions of power, the husband was afraid to take a new woman and jettison the old one. It is only now that they are dead that he feels at liberty to take liberties.
2The mandarin duck is supposedly monogamous for life, and is a symbol of connubial fidelity in the Chinese tradition
3 i.e. once a woman has been married, she is dirtied by reputation if she leaves her husband regardless of the reason.
4 In mentioning that the flowers will not be stuck in her hair, Du Fu implies that the woman is selling flowers, earning a pittance at floriculture. It is the height of indignity for such a gentlewoman to actually have to earn her living. A further implication may be that this woman is retaining her status as a Fine Lady by living secluded and poor and not doing what would be monetarily easier for a woman still beautiful though aging: prostitution or possibly remarriage.
The Original:
Note: I am no longer transcriptions of Modern Mandarin character-readings for medieval Chinese poetry, on account of there being absolutely no point whatsoever. Henceforth I will only give the Han Characters and a romanization using David Branner's transcription system for medieval Chinese. The transcription of the entire poem below includes Branner's rhyme-table information in subscript mainly for completeness' sake. In my commentary and when citing individual words, however, I forego the subscript, the better to treat medieval Chinese like an actual language.
Ballata della bella Signora
Senza pari una bella Signora
in desolata valle, senza nome.
La famiglia fu nobile dice.
Vive di erba, povera e pallida.
Quando presero Chang’an i ribelli
le uccisero tutti i fratelli.
Non soccorsero alti ufficiali.
Niente corpi per i funerali.
Più debole di lanterne soffiate
dai venti il mondo disdegna chi
invecchia.
La rimpiazzò il marito infedele
con una nuova, bella come giada.
Foglie di gelso da piegare la
sera.
Non dormirà un’anatra mandarina.
Lui vede solo di nuova il sorriso.
Come può ascoltare di vecchia il
pianto?
Dicono acqua di fonte scorra pura
ma rotola fango fosco nei monti.
La serva vende le perle di lei
poi impila tralci sul tetto a
riparo.
Coglie cipresso e non sazia la
fame.
Né fiori danno grazia ai capelli.
Al tramonto si appoggia al bambù,
sottili maniche azzurre nel
freddo.
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