“Gary Snyder's defamiliarization translation of Chinese classic poems” (Publication, 2011)
Year
2011
Text
Cong, Zihang. Gary Snyder's defamiliarization translation of Chinese classic poems. In : Sino-US English teaching ; vol. 8, no 12 (2011). (Sny30)
Type
Publication
Mentioned People (1)
Snyder, Gary
(San Francisco, Calif. 1930-) : Schriftsteller, Dichter, Professor of English, University of California Davis
[Reproduction of the texts with the permission by Gary Snyder, January 2013].
[Reproduction of the texts with the permission by Gary Snyder, January 2013].
Subjects
Literature : Occident : United States of America
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References / Sources
Chronology Entries (1)
| # | Year | Text | Linked Data |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 1958 |
Han, Shan. The cold mountain poems. Transl. by Gary Snyder. [ID D29190]. Preface to the Poems of Han-shan by Lu Ch'iu-yin, Governor of T'ai Prefecture No one knows what sort of man Han-shan was. There are old people who knew him: they say he was a poor man, a crazy character. He lived alone seventy Li (23 miles) west of the T'ang-hsing district of T'ien-t'ai at a place called Cold Mountain. He often went down to the Kuo-ch'ing Temple. At the temple lived Shih'te, who ran the dining hall. He sometimes saved leftovers for Han-shan, hiding them in a bamboo tube. Han-shan would come and carry it away; walking the long veranda, calling and shouting happily, talking and laughing to himself. Once the monks followed him, caught him, and made fun of him. He stopped, clapped his hands, and laughed greatly - Ha Ha! - for a spell, then left. He looked like a tramp. His body and face were old and beat. Yet in every word he breathed was a meaning in line with the subtle principles of things, if only you thought of it deeply. Everything he said had a feeling of Tao in it, profound and arcane secrets. His hat was made of birch bark, his clothes were ragged and worn out, and his shoes were wood. Thus men who have made it hide their tracks: unifying categories and interpenetrating things. On that long veranda calling and singing, in his words of reply Ha Ha! - the three worlds revolve. Sometimes at the villages and farms he laughed and sang with cowherds. Sometimes intractable, sometimes agreeable, his nature was happy of itself. But how could a person without wisdom recognize him? I once received a position as a petty official at Tan-ch'iu. The day I was to depart, I had a bad headache. I called a doctor, but he couldn't cure me and it turned worse. Then I met a Buddhist Master named Feng-kan, who said he came from the Kuo-ch'ing Temple of T'ien-t'ai especially to visit me. I asked him to rescue me from my illness. He smiled and said, "The four realms are within the body; sickness comes from illusion. If you want to do away with it, you need pure water." Someone brought water to the Master, who spat it on me. In a moment the disease was rooted out. He then said, "There are miasmas in T'ai prefecture, when you get there take care of yourself." I asked him, "Are there any wise men in your area I could look on as Master?" He replied, "When you see him you don't recognize him, when you recognize him you don't see him. If you want to see him, you can't rely on appearances. Then you can see him. Han-shan is a Manjusri (one who has attained enlightenment and, in a future incarnation, will become Buddha) hiding at Kuo-sh'ing. Shih-te is a Samantabbhadra (Bodhisattva of love). They look like poor fellows and act like madmen. Sometimes they go and sometimes they come. They work in the kitchen of the Kuo-ch'ing dining hall, tending the fire." When he was done talking he left. I proceeded on my journey to my job at T'ai-chou, not forgetting this affair. I arrived three days later, immediately went to a temple, and questioned an old monk. It seemed the Master had been truthful, so I gave orders to see if T'ang-hsing really contained a Han-shan and Shih-te. The District Magistrate reported to me: "In this district, seventy li west, is a mountain. People used to see a poor man heading from the cliffs to stay awhile at Kuo-ch'ing. At the temple dining hall is a similar man named Shih-te." I made a bow, and went to Kuo-ch'ing. I asked some people around the temple, "There used to be a Master named Feng-kan here, Where is his place? And where can Han-shan and Shih-te be seen?" A monk named T'ao-ch'iao spoke up: "Feng-kan the Master lived in back of the library. Nowadays nobody lives there; a tiger often comes and roars. Han-shan and Shih-te are in the kitchen." The monk led me to Feng-kan's yard. Then he opened the gate: all we saw was tiger tracks. I asked the monks Tao-ch'iao and Pao-te, "When Feng-kan was here, what was his job?" The monks said, :He pounded and hulled rice. At night he sang songs to amuse himself." Then we went to the kitchen, before the stoves. Two men were facing the fire, laughing loudly. I made a bow. The two shouted Ho! at me. They struck their hands together -Ha Ha! - great laughter. They shouted. Then they said, "Feng-kan - loose-tounged, loose-tounged. You don't recognize Amitabha, (the Bodhisattva of mercy) why be courteous to us?" The monks gathered round, surprise going through them. ""Why has a big official bowed to a pair of clowns?" The two men grabbed hands and ran out of the temple. I cried, "Catch them" - but they quickly ran away. Han-shan returned to Cold Mountain. I asked the monks, "Would those two men be willing to settle down at this temple?" I ordered them to find a house, and to ask Han-shan and Shih-te to return and live at the temple. I returned to my district and had two sets of clean clothes made, got some incense and such, and sent it to the temple - but the two men didn't return. So I had it carried up to Cold Mountain. The packer saw Han-shan, who called in a loud voice, "Thief! Thief!" and retreated into a mountain cave. He shouted, "I tell you man, strive hard" - entered the cave and was gone. The cave closed of itself and they weren't able to follow. Shih-te's tracks disappeared completely.. I ordered Tao-ch'iao and the other monks to find out how they had lived, to hunt up the poems written on bamboo, wood, stones, and cliffs - and also to collect those written on the walls of people's houses. There were more than three hundred. On the wall of the Earth-shrine Shih-te had written some gatha (Buddhist verse or song). It was all brought together and made into a book. I hold to the principle of the Buddha-mind. It is fortunate to meet with men of Tao, so I have made this eulogy. The cold mountain poems 1 The path to Han-shan's place is laughable, A path, but no sign of cart or horse. Converging gorges - hard to trace their twists Jumbled cliffs - unbelievably rugged. A thousand grasses bend with dew, A hill of pines hums in the wind. And now I've lost the shortcut home, Body asking shadow, how do you keep up? 2 In a tangle of cliffs, I chose a place - Bird paths, but no trails for me. What's beyond the yard? White clouds clinging to vague rocks. Now I've lived here - how many years - Again and again, spring and winter pass. Go tell families with silverware and cars "What's the use of all that noise and money?" 3 In the mountains it's cold. Always been cold, not just this year. Jagged scarps forever snowed in Woods in the dark ravines spitting mist. Grass is still sprouting at the end of June, Leaves begin to fall in early August. And here I am, high on mountains, Peering and peering, but I can't even see the sky. 4 I spur my horse through the wrecked town, The wrecked town sinks my spirit. High, low, old parapet walls Big, small, the aging tombs. I waggle my shadow, all alone; Not even the crack of a shrinking coffin is heard. I pity all those ordinary bones, In the books of the Immortals they are nameless. 5 I wanted a good place to settle: Cold Mountain would be safe. Light wind in a hidden pine - Listen close - the sound gets better. Under it a gray haired man Mumbles along reading Huang and Lao. For ten years I havn't gone back home I've even forgotten the way by which I came. 6 Men ask the way to Cold Mountain Cold Mountain: there's no through trail. In summer, ice doesn't melt The rising sun blurs in swirling fog. How did I make it? My heart's not the same as yours. If your heart was like mine You'd get it and be right here. 7 I settled at Cold Mountain long ago, Already it seems like years and years. Freely drifting, I prowl the woods and streams And linger watching things themselves. Men don't get this far into the mountains, White clouds gather and billow. Thin grass does for a mattress, The blue sky makes a good quilt. Happy with a stone under head Let heaven and earth go about their changes. 8 Clambering up the Cold Mountain path, The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on: The long gorge choked with scree and boulders, The wide creek, the mist blurred grass. The moss is slippery, though there's been no rain The pine sings, but there's no wind. Who can leap the word's ties And sit with me among the white clouds? 9 Rough and dark - the Cold Mountain trail, Sharp cobbles - the icy creek bank. Yammering, chirping - always birds Bleak, alone, not even a lone hiker. Whip, whip - the wind slaps my face Whirled and tumbled - snow piles on my back. Morning after morning I don't see the sun Year after year, not a sign of spring. 10 I have lived at Cold Mountain These thirty long years. Yesterday I called on friends and family: More than half had gone to the Yellow Springs. Slowly consumed, like fire down a candle; Forever flowing, like a passing river. Now, morning, I face my lone shadow: Suddenly my eyes are bleared with tears. 11 Spring water in the green creek is clear Moonlight on Cold Mountain is white Silent knowledge - the spirit is enlightened of itself Contemplate the void: this world exceeds stillness. 12 In my first thirty years of life I roamed hundreds and thousands of miles. Walked by rivers through deep green grass Entered cities of boiling red dust. Tried drugs, but couldn't make Immortal; Read books and wrote poems on history. Today I'm back at Cold Mountain: I'll sleep by the creek and purify my ears. 13 I can't stand these bird songs Now I'll go rest in my straw shack. The cherry flowers are scarlet The willow shoots up feathery. Morning sun drives over blue peaks Bright clouds wash green ponds. Who knows that I'm out of the dusty world Climbing the southern slope of Cold Mountain? 14 Cold Mountain has many hidden wonders, People who climb here are always getting scared. When the moon shines, water sparkles clear When the wind blows, grass swishes and rattles. On the bare plum, flowers of snow On the dead stump, leaves of mist. At the touch of rain it all turns fresh and live At the wrong season you can't ford the creeks. 15 There's a naked bug at Cold Mountain With a white body and a black head. His hand holds two book scrolls, One the Way and one its Power. His shack's got no pots or oven, He goes for a long walk with his shirt and pants askew. But he always carries the sword of wisdom: He means to cut down sensless craving. 16 Cold Mountain is a house Without beans or walls. The six doors left and right are open The hall is sky blue. The rooms all vacant and vague The east wall beats on the west wall At the center nothing. Borrowers don't bother me In the cold I build a little fire When I'm hungry I boil up some greens. I've got no use for the kulak With his big barn and pasture - He just sets up a prison for himself. Once in he can't get out. Think it over - You know it might happen to you. 17 If I hide out at Cold Mountain Living off mountain plants and berries - All my lifetime, why worry? One follows his karma through. Days and months slip by like water, Time is like sparks knocked off flint. Go ahead and let the world change - I'm happy to sit among these cliffs. 18 Most T'ien-t'ai men Don't know Han-shan Don't know his real thought And call it silly talk. 19 Once at Cold Mountain, troubles cease - No more tangled, hung up mind. I idly scribble poems on the rock cliff, Taking whatever comes, like a drifting boat. 20 Some critic tried to put me down - "Your poems lack the Basic Truth of Tao." And I recall the old timers Who were poor and didn't care. I have to laugh at him, He misses the point entirely, Men like that Ought to stick to making money. 21 I've lived at Cold Mountain - how many autumns. Alone, I hum a song - utterly without regret. Hungry, I eat one grain of Immortal medicine Mind solid and sharp; leaning on a stone. 22 On top of Cold Mountain the lone round moon Lights the whole clear cloudless sky. Honor this priceless natural treasure Concealed in five shadows, sunk deep in the flesh. 23 My home was at Cold Mountain from the start, Rambling among the hills, far from trouble. Gone, and a million things leave no trace Loosed, and it flows through galaxies A fountain of light, into the very mind - Not a thing, and yet it appears before me: Now I know the pearl of the Buddha nature Know its use: a boundless perfect sphere. 24 When men see Han-shan They all say he's crazy And not much to look at - Dressed in rags and hides. They don't get what I say And I don't talk their language. All I can say to those I meet: "Try and make it to Cold Mountain." Sekundärliteratur 2007 Robin Chen-hsing Tsai : Han Shan inspired Snyder primarily through his economy of form and spiritual-ecological theme. Snyder attempts, in translating 'Cold mountain' and more generally Eastern thought, not to superimpose a hierarchical relationship between the original and the simulacrum : his translation project is note purely a textual operation based on cross-referencing. He makes clear that Han Shan is the very embodiment of a cranky and eccentric poet-hermit who traverses the boundary between the sacred and the profane. This hermit's poems not only treat of the poet himself but of his relation to the physical environment of Cold Mountain and his state of mind. The second theme is that of Han Shan the man's relationship to the environment and the third theme contains the tripartite concept of Han Shan the man, his relationship with the environment and his state of mind. Like Han Shan, Snyder is looking for 'one mind' embedded 'in the flesh' in its true nature, as represented by the moon, the central image in the poem. 2009 Joan Qionglin Tang : Han Shan's Cold mountain poems may be heralded as condensed collection of Chinese philosophical ideas drawn from Confucianism, Daoism and Chinese Buddhism (including different branches of Chan Buddhism). Han Shan's spiritual journey to Cold Mountain is often seen as a reflection of the ancient Chinese literati's pilgrimage to Chan enlightenment. Han Shan's poems seem more colloquial, laconic and direct, but they still follow some of the main characteristics of Chinese classical poetry. The nature-Chan images used in his Chan poems not only make the ineffable Chan or 'dao' explicable, but also endow the poems with a high degree of literary virtuosity. Through translation, the legend of Han Shan and his poems were brought to such countries as Japan, Korea and the United States of America. The hermit-poet's name, Han Shan, has become synonymous with the recluse-rebel against the mainstream culture, and also with the 'dao'-Chan mountain spirit, whilst the place name, Cold Mountain, is often used to symbolize a nature-Chan world of peace, transcendence and enlightenment. In China, Han Shan is idolized as an incarnation of Manjusri ('keen awareness', 'the bodhisattva of wisdom') with the sword of wisdom. Arthur Waley translated twenty-seven of Han Shan's poems in 1954, Gary Snyder twenty-four translations in 1958 and Burton Watson one hundred poems in 1962. But neither has proved as influential as Snyders translation. Waley and Watson looked at the poems only as translators, whereas Snyder responded to them also as a poet, as a Mahayana Buddhist and as a mountain hiker. He adopted a principle of selection and a visualization process in his translation to invent his own mentor in the person of Han Shan. His translations are all related to Han Shan, to Cold Mountain, and to a spiritual quest for Chan enlightenment. Through his translation, he discovered that Han Shan had fascinated him from childhood. Han Shan's life on Cold Mountain seemed to have overlapped with Snyder's early life in the American western mountains. As a Mahayana Buddhist, he was attracted by Chan enlightenment in Han Shan's Chan poems, Han Shan secluded life and Han Shan's meditative practice on Cold Mountain. He melded Han Shan harmoniously into his translation and later into some of his works, even into his life. Many years later, he still admitted that 'a bit of a Han Shan spirit' was present in him and others. The eccentric life of the hermit-poet Han Shan, the vernacular style of Hans Shan's poems and the nature-Chan world of enlightenment on Cold Mountain accord with Snyder's interests, personality, and aims as a poet. His successful translation encouraged him to start his own spiritual quest for Cold Mountain, which symbolizes the literary mountain of ecopoetry for him. The comparative study of Snyder and Han Shan has been confined mainly to Snyder's translation techniques, or to the Chinese grammatical influence on Snyder's early works. Both Han Shan and Snyder are not purists in pursuit of Chan enlightenment in their poetics. Han Shan's spiritual quest underwent a rather complicated process, the workings of which were enmeshed with a wide range of Chinese religious or philosophical ideas. He started from Confucianism, but resorted to Daoism after his failure in the Civil Service Examination. He soon accepted Indian Buddhism, and then absorbed the essence of Daoism and Chinese Buddhism, finally turning to Chan Buddhism. Snyder's eclecticism is quite different, for Snyder considers all Buddhist doctrines as 'one teaching'. Although he is a Zen practitioner in his daily life and claims himself as a Mahayana Buddhist, he never refutes other religious teachings in his work, such as Hinduism and Theravada Buddhism. Snyder's principle is to interweave these teachings with archaic values in an eclectic way to rebuild his sense of 'wholeness'. This principle encourages him not to exclude alternative and even opposing Buddhist sects from inclusion within his system of thought. It was the mountain spirit of the poets that linked Han Shan and Snyder so tightly together that Snyder became an exemplary representative of an American Han Shan. Snyder's poetic journey to Cold Mountain can be divided into three stages : pre-turning, turning and returning. This division is mainly based on his acceptance of Han Shan and Chan. It also assumes that Snyder as a poet has achieved a state of enlightenment after his self-cultivation, a 'kensho' in Japanese Zen terminology. 2011 Cong Zihang : One reason that Snyder chose to translate Han-Shan's poems is that these poems evoke memories of his childhood. The other reason is that the harmony and concord in Taoism echo with his ecological view, Snyder established 'depth ecology', which 'contains the concept of energy transformation, of that being a link in the food chain, human beings should be thankful for their food, and of that animals, plants, and minerals are equal to human beings'. Furthermore, concepts of 'impermanence, no-self, the inevitability of suffering, connectedness, emptiness, the vastness of mind, and a way to realization' propagated by Buddhism have too much effect on Snyder. Some of his researches show that it is Buddhism that further strengthens his aspiration for equality among humans and harmony between human and environment. Similar to ancient Chinese officials who served the society, or Taoists who withdraw from society to live leisurely in nature, Snyder combines 'meditation, morality and wisdom' and he himself is the perfect embodiment of the Confucian concept of 'self-cultivating, family-regulating, state-ordering and then nation governing'. |
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Cited by (1)
| # | Year | Bibliographical Data | Type / Abbreviation | Linked Data |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 2000- | Asien-Orient-Institut Universität Zürich | Organisation / AOI |
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