Li, Bo
(Baxi, Sichuan 701-762) : Dichter
Name Alternative(s)
Li, Taibo
Li, Tai-po
Li, Bai
Li, Taipe
Subjects
Index of Names : China
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Literature : China
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Periods : China : Tang (618-906)
Chronology Entries (9)
| # | Year | Text | Linked Data |
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| 1 | 1903 ca. | Klabund liest das Buch Lieder aus dem Rinnstein [ID D12692]. Darin enthalten ist das Gedicht Chinesisches Vagabundenlied von Li-tai-pe [Li Bo]. Es ist seine erste Begegnung mit chinesischer Lyrik. [Nach einer wörtlichen Übersetzung von Léon Hervey de Saint-Denys. Poésies de l’époque des Thang] [ID D2216]. |
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| 2 | 1907-1908 |
Das Lied von der Erde von Gustav Mahler enthält folgende Gedichte von Hans Bethge. Li, Bo. Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde. Zhang, Ji. Der Einsame im Herbst. Li, Bo. Von der Jugend. Li, Bo. Von der Schönheit. Li, Bo. Der Trunkene im Frühling. Meng, Haoran ; Wang, Wei. Der Abschied. |
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| 3 | 1915 |
Hermann Hesse liest Chinesische Novellen übertragen von Hans Rudelsberger [ID D11981] ; Chinesische Novellen übertragen von Paul Kühnel [ID D11982] ; Chinesische Abende übertragen von Leo Greiner [ID D11983] ; Li Tai Pe. Nachdichtungen von Klabund [ID D2998]. Er schreibt in der Neuen Zürcher Zeitung ; Nr. 811 (1915) : Diese paar Bücher, deren jedes ein eigenes Stück China bringt und deutlich die Subjektivität seiner Auswahl spüren lässt, haben mich ungezählte Tage bschäftigt und unterhalten… Das doppelte Gesicht Chinas sieht mir daraus entgegen ; denn alles chinesische Wesen, vor allem alle chinesische Dichtung hat für mein Gefühl zwei Gesichter, zwei Seiten, zwei Pole. Die eine Seite ist eine stille, naive Gegenwärtigkeit, ein konservativ praktisches Verharren bei den Realitäten des täglichen Lebens, eine Achtung vor Leben, Gesundheit, Famlienglück, vor Gedeihen, Besitz, Reichtum in jeder Form... Adrian Hsia : Die Bücher in Hesses Besitz enthalten eigenhändige Bemerkungen, bei Geschichten, die sich in anderen Ausgaben wiederholen, und zwar immer mit dem Namen des Übersetzers. Er stellt nicht unbedeutende Abweichungen fest. Hesse schreibt über Li Bo : Bis heute ist Wesen und Sinn der chinesischen Lyrik dem Westen noch ebenso fremd wie Wesen und Sinn der chinesischen Malerei. |
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| 4 | 1915 |
Klabund. Li Tai Pe : Nachdichtungen [ID D2998]. Quellen : Hervey de Saint-Denys, Léon. Poésies de l'époque des Thang [ID D2216]. Gautier, Judith. Le livre de jade [ID D12659]. Harlez, Charles Joseph de. La poésie chinoise [ID D12693]. Pfizmaier, August. Das Li-sao und die neun Gesänge [ID D4776]. Strauss, Victor von. Schi-king [ID D4648]. Forke, Alfred. Blüthen chinesischer Dichtung [ID D664]. Grube, Wilhelm. Geschichte der chinesischen Literatur [ID D798]. Heilmann, Hans. Chinesische Lyrik [ID D11976]. Hauser, Otto. Li-tai-po [ID D4640] und Die chinesische Dichtung [ID D12694]. Klabund schreibt an Walther Heinrich Unus : Mit Litaipe [Li Bo] bin ich mir noch nicht einig. Vielleicht mache ich eine grosse Ausgabe (1000 unbekannte Gedichte, direkt aus dem Chinesischen übersetzt mit einem hiesigen Chinakenner). Vielleicht. Statt dessen fertigt Klabund 40 Gedichte als Nachdichtungen an, 12 davon übernimmt er aus Dumpfe Trommeln [ID D11994]. Han Ruixin : Vergleicht man Klabunds Nachdichtungen mit den chinesischen Originaltexten, so weisen sie zumeist starke Abweichungen auf : Ersatz chinesischer Ausdrücke durch andere, Umformulierungen, Hinzufügungen, Auslassungen, Umbau. Obwohl seine Nachdichtungen nicht wörtlich mit den Originaltexten übereinstimmen, geben sie doch deren Aussagen und Sinngehalt manchmal hervorragend wieder. Andrerseits gibt es auch Nachdichtungen, die in der Aussage mit den Originaltexten nichts mehr gemein haben und ganz als Neuschöpfungen anzusehen sind. Dscheng, Fang-hsiung : Klabund hat alle deutschen Nachdichter auf dem Gebiet chinesischer Lyrik in Stil und Gehalt übertoffen. Dscheng weist nach, dass Klabund sich ausführlich mit China beschäftigt und dabei ernsthafte Kenntnisse erworben habe. Die Begeisterung für Li Tai Po liege in der wesensverwandten Gestalt begründet : Li Tai-bo, der wandelnde Poet, von Volk und Kaiser hoch geachtet, habe eine Parallele zu Klabund ; nicht von ungefähr sei Klabund eine Kombinationn aus Klabautermann und Vagabund. Heinz Grothe : Aus dieser östlichen Welt holt Klabund sich seine besten Lyrika und dichtet sie neu. So sagt man. Aber es ist nicht so. Klabund übertrug nicht nach Originalen. Er „erfand“ diese Verse und sie scheinen uns wie Blumen aus dem übbigen Garten chinesischer Dichtkunst ans Tageslicht gezaubert. Die Welt der Ahnenverehrung, die Menschen, die die Geister fürchten, die ihnen ihre Leben und Gesundheit bedrohen, lässt Klabund in seiner Art erstehen. Nichts von der Ferne und Tiefe östlichen Geheimnisses, umsomehr Romantik. Woraus wiederum zu schliessen ist, dass ein anderer Zusammenhang sein muss, als nur vom Vorbild zum Nachdichter. Klabunds eigene Traurigkeit klingt aus diesen Strophen. Herrliche Liebesgedichte, hämmernde Kriegsverse, trunkene Lieder Litaipes, Strophen von stärkster Resignation. Kuei-fen Pan-hsu : Die Vorlagen von Hervey Saint-Denys und Judith Gautier spielen vor allem eine grosse Rolle. Es zeigt sich, wenn das Original in der Vorlage falsch übersetzt worden ist, kann Klabunds Übertragung bei aller Intuition nicht den Sinn des chinesischen Gedichtes treffen… Die Veränderung dieser Gedichte ist zum Teil auch durch Klabunds Vorstellung von der chinesischen Welt bestimmt, sowie von Klabunds eigener geistiger Haltung und dem zeitgenössischen Geschmack. Wolfgang Bauer : Nur Hans Bethge und Klabund bietet die Berührung mit dem Chinesischen gerade den notwendigen Halt für die Entfaltung ihres Talents, das durch ein allzu grosses Mehr an Information wohl erstickt worden wäre. Ihre zahlreichen Nachdichtungen… können zweifellos als eigenständige Kunstleistungen betrachtet werden. Helwig Schmidt-Glintzer : Die starke Betonung der Trunkenheit, die Klabund in Lai Taibais Trinkliedern gesehen hat, ist nichts Fremdes. Sie wurzelt in dem dionysischen Kult der Philosophie Nietzsches, die wiederum auf die indische Philosophie zurückzuführen ist. Sie hat jedoch auch in der chinesischen Tradition eigenständige, vergleichbare Wurzeln in der Rausch- und Drogendichtung vergangener Jahrhunderte. |
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| 5 | 1915 |
Klabund. Dumpfe Trommeln und berauschtes Gong : Nachdichtungen chinesischer Kriegslyrik [ID D11994]. Quellen : Hervey de Saint-Denys, Léon. Poésies de l'époque des Thang [ID D2216]. Gautier, Judith. Le livre de jade [ID D12659]. Harlez, Charles Joseph de. La poésie chinoise [ID D12693]. Pfizmaier, August. Das Li-sao und die neun Gesänge [ID D4776]. Strauss, Victor von. Schi-king [ID D4648]. Forke, Alfred. Blüthen chinesischer Dichtung [ID D664]. Grube, Wilhelm. Geschichte der chinesischen Literatur [ID D798]. Heilmann, Hans. Chinesische Lyrik [ID D11976]. Hauser, Otto. Li-tai-po [ID D4640] und Die chinesische Dichtung [ID D12694]. Folgende Dichter sind darin enthalten : Li Bo (12) und Du Fu (9), Shi jing (3), Qu Yuan (1), Konfuzius (1), Wang Changling (1) sowie drei Gedichte aus angeblich unbekannter Herkunft. Er schreibt an den Insel-Verlag : Es handelt sich bei den Nachdichtungen um Nachdichtungen in Reimen – eine Behandlunsweise, die für das Verständnis des Chinesischen in den Gedichten wesentlich erscheint : die chinesische Lyrik als Lyrik reimt sich immer. Im Nachwort beschreibt Klabund die Wesensmerkmale der chinesischen Sprache und Lyrik. Er schreibt : Die vorliegenden chinesischen Gedichte sind durchaus keine Übersetzungen. Sondern Nachdichtungen. Aus dem Geist heraus. Intuition. Wiederaufbau. (Manche Säulen des kleinen Tempels mussten versetzt oder umgestellt werden)… Die chinesische Kriegslyrik überrascht durch die Kraft ihrer Anschauung und die Unerbittlichkeit ihrer Resignation, die sie von der meist hymnisch oder episch gearteten Kriegsdichtung aller übrigen Völker scharf unterscheidet… In seinem Sohn allein erscheint der Mensch verewigt. In der Familie ist er unsterblich. Darum heisst Krieg für den Chinesen : fern von der Heimat sterben… unbestattet im Mondlicht verwesen… die Knochen nicht von frommer Kinder Hand gesammelt… kein Ahne sein… sterben… Dscheng, Fang-hsiung : Klabund geht einher mit seiner geänderten Einstellung zum Kriege : Klabund, zutiefst überzeugt von der chinesischen Abneigung gegen Krieg und Gewalt, distanziert sich von … seiner anfänglichen Kriegsbegeisterung und wandelt sich – noch zur Zeit der deutschen Kriegserfolge – zum Pazifisten. Seine chinesische Kriegslyrik beschäftigt sich daher… vor allem mit der Verurteilung der Gewalt oder der Klage einer Geliebten um den im Kriege weilenden Gatten. Kuei-fen Pan-hsu : Der exotische Kriegsschauplatz dient dazu, den Blick des Autors von Europa un der Gegenwart abzuwenden. Er führt ihn nicht zu einem endgültigen Gesinnungswandel. Dieser Gedichtband kann später nur als ein schwacher Vorwand dienen. Klabund verteidigt sich, dass er anfangs an den vorgetäuschten Idealismus der deutschen Regierung geblaubt, bald aber den Irrtum erkannt habe, als er im Frühling 1915 die chinesische Kriegslyrik, die Sprache der Menschlichkeit gedichtet hat. |
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| 6 | 1915.1 |
Pound, Ezra. Cathay [ID D29059]. (1) Rihaku flourished in the eight century of our era. The Anglo-Saxon Seafarer is of about this period. The other poems from the Chinese are earlier. Song of the Bowmen of Shu By Bunno (um 1000 B.C.) Here we are, picking the first fern-shoots And saying : When shall we get back to our country ? Here we are because we have the Ken-nin for our foemen, We have no comfort because of these Mongols. We grub the soft fern-shoots, When anyone says "Return", the others are full of sorrow. Sorrowful minds, sorrow is strong, we are hungry and thirsty. Our defence is not yet made sure, no one can let his friend return. We grub the old fern-stalks. We say : Will we be let to go back in October ? There is no ease in royal affairs, we have no comfort. Our sorrow is bitter, but we would not return to our country. What flower has come into blossom ? Whose chariot ? The General's. Horses, his horses even, are tired. They were strong. We have no rest, three battles a month. By heaven, his horses are tired. The generals are on them, the soldiers are by them. The horses are well trained, the generals have ivory arrows and quivers ornamented with fish-skin. The enemy is swift, we must be careful. When we set out, the willows were drooping with spring. We come back in the snow, We go slowly, we are hungry and thirsty, Our mind is full of sorrow, who will know of our grief ? The beautiful Toilet By Mei Sheng, 140 B.C. Blue, blue is the grass about the river And the willows have overfilled the close garden. And within, the mistress, in the midmost of her youth, White, white of face, hesitates, passing the door. Slender, she puts forth a slender hand, And she was a courtesan in the old days, And she has married a sot, Who know goes drunkenly out And leaves her to much alone. The River Song By Rihaku, 8th century A.D. [Li Bo] The boat is of shato-wood, and its gunwales are cut magnolia, Musicians with jeweled flutes and with pipes of gold Fill full the sides in rows, and our wine Is rich for a thousand cups. We carry singing girls, drift with the drifting water, Yet Sennin needs A yellow stork for a charger, and all our seamen Would follow the white gulls or ride them. Kutsu's prose song Hangs with the sun and moon. King So's terraced palace is now but barren hill, But I draw pen on this barge Causing the five peaks to tremble, And I have joy in these words like the joy of blue islands. (If glory could last for ever Then the waters of Han would flow northward). And I have moped in the Emperor's garden, Awaiting an order-to-write ! I looked at the dragon-pond, with its willow-coloured water Just reflecting the sky's tinge, And heard the five-score nightingales aimlessly singing. The eastern wind brings the green colour into the island grasses at Yei-shu, The purple house and the crimson are full of spring softness. South of the pond the willow-tips are half-blue and bluer, Their cords tangle in mist, against the brocade-like palace. Vine-strings a hundred feet long hang down from carved railings, And high over the willows, the fine birds sing to each other, and listen, Crying - "Kwan, Kuan", for the early wind, and the feel of it. The wind bundles itself into a bluish cloud and wanders off. Over a thousand gates, over a thousand doors are the sounds of spring singing. And the Emperor is at Ko. Five clouds hang aloft, bright on the purple sky, The imperial guards come forth from the golden house with their armour a-gleaming. The Emperor in his jeweled car goes out to inspect his flowers, He goes out to Hori, to look at the wing-flapping storks, He returns by way of Sei rock, to hear the new nightingales, For the gardens at Jo-run are full of new nightingales, Their sound is mixed in this flute, Their voice is in the twelve pipes here. The River-Merchant's Wife : a letter By Rihaku [Li Bo] While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead I played about the front gate, pulling flowers. You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse, You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums. And we went on living in the village of Chokan : Two small people, without dislike or suspicion. At fourteen I married My Lord you. I never laughed, being bashful. Lowering my head, I looked at the wall. Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back. At fifteen I stopped scowling, I desired my dust to be mingled with yours Forever and forever and forever. Why should I climb the look out ? At sixteen you departed, You went into far Ku-to-en, by the river of swirling eddies, And you have been gone five months. The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead. You dragged your feet when you went out. By the gate now, the moss is grown, the different mosses, Too deep to clear them away! The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind. The paired butterflies are already yellow with August Over the grass in the West garden; They hurt me. I grow older. If you are coming down through the narrows of the river Kiang, Please let me know beforehand, And I will come out to meet you As far as Cho-fu-Sa. The Jewel Stairs' Grievance By Rihaku [Li Bo] The jeweled steps are already quite white with dew, It is so late that the dew soaks my gauze stockings, And I let down the crystal curtain And watch the moon through the clear autumn. Note : Jewel stairs, therefore a palace. Grievance, there-fore there is something to complain of. Gauze stockings, therefore a court lady, not a servant who complains. Clear autumn, therefore he has no excuse on account of weather. Also she has come early, for the dew has not merely whitened the stairs, but has soaked her stockings. The poems is especially prized because she utters no direct reproach. Poem by the Bridge at Ten-Shin By Rihaku [Li Bo] March has come to the bridge-head, Peach boughs and apricot boughs hang over a thousand gates, At morning there are flowers to cut the heart, And evening drives them on the eastward-flowing waters. Petals are on the gone waters and on the going. And on the back-swirling eddies, But to-day's men are not the men of the old days, Though they hang in the same way over the bridge-rail. The sea's colour moves at the dawn And the princes still stand in rows, about the throne, And the moon falls over the portals of Sei-go-yo, And clings to the walls and the gate-top. With head gear glittering against the cloud and sun, The lords go forth from the court, and into far borders. They ride upon dragon-like horses, Upon horses with head-trappings of yellow metal, And the streets make way for their passage. Haughty their passing, Haughty their steps as they go in to great banquets, To high halls and curious food, To the perfumed air and girls dancing, To clear flutes and clear singing ; To the dance of the seventy couples ; To the mad chase through the gardens. Night and day are given over to pleasure And they think it will last a thousand autumns, Unwearying autumns. For them the yellow dogs howl portents in vain, And what are they compared to the lady Riokushu, That was cause of hate ! Who among them is a man like Han-rei Who departed alone with his mistress, With her hair unbound, and he his own skiffsman ! Lament of the Frontier Guard By Rihaku [Li Bo] By the North Gate, the wind blows full of sand, Lonely from the beginning of time until now ! Trees fall, the grass goes yellow with autumn. I climb the towers and towers to watch out the barbarous land : Desolate castle, the sky, the wide desert. There is no wall left to this village. Bones white with a thousand frosts, High heaps, covered with trees and grass ; Who brought this to pass ? Who has brought the flaming imperial anger ? Who has brought the army with drums and with kettle-drums ? Barbarous kings. A gracious spring, turned to blood-ravenous autumn, A turmoil of wars-men, spread over the middle kingdom, Three hundred and sixty thousand, And sorrow to go, and sorrow, sorrow returning. Desolate, desolate fields, And no children of warfare upon them, No longer the men for offence and defence. Ah, how shall you know the dreary sorrow at the North Gate, With Rihoku's name forgotten, And we guardsmen fed to the tigers. Exile's letter By Rihaku [Li Bo] To So-Kin of Rakuyo, ancient friend, Chancellor of Gen. Now I remember that you built me a special tavern By the south side of the bridge at Ten-Shin. With yellow gold and white jewels, we paid for songs and laughter And we were drunk for month on month, forgetting the kings and princes. Intelligent men came drifting in from the sea and from the west border, And with them, and with you especially, There was nothing at cross purpose, And they made nothing of sea-crossing or of mountain-crossing, If only they could be of that fellowship, And we all spoke out our hearts and minds, and without regret. And then I was sent off to South Wei, smothered in laurel groves, And you to the north of Raku-hoku, Till we had nothing but thoughts and memories in common. And then, when separation had come to its worst, We met, and travelled into Sen-jo, Through all the thirty-six folds of the turning and twisting waters, Into a valley of the thousand bright flowers, That was the first valley ; And into ten thousand valleys full of voices and pine-winds. And with silver harness and reins of gold, Out came the East of Kan foreman and his company. And there came also the "True man" of Shi-yo to meet me, Playing on a jewelled mouth-organ. In the storied houses of San-ko they gave us more Sennin music, Many instruments, like the sound of young phoenix broods. The foreman of Kan-chu, drunk, danced because his long sleeves wouldn't keep still With that music playing And I, wrapped in brocade, went to sleep with my head on his lap, And my spirit so high it was all over the heavens, And before the end of the day we were scattered like stars, or rain. I had to be off to So, far away over the waters, You back to your river-bridge. And your father, who was brave as a leopard, Was governor in Hei Shu, and put down the barbarian rabble, And one May he had you send for me, despite the long distance. And what with broken wheels and so on, I won't say it wasn't hard going. Over roads twisted like sheep's guts. And I was still going, late in the year, in the cutting wind from the North, And thinking how little you cared for the cost, and you caring enough to pay it. And what a reception : Red jade cups, food well set on a blue jewelled table, And I was drunk, and had no thought of returning. And you would walk out with me to the western corner of the castle, To the dynastic temple, with water about it clear as blue jade, With boats floating, and the sound of mouth-organs and drums, With ripples like dragon-scales, going grass-green on the water, Pleasure lasting, with courtesans, going and coming without hindrance, With the willow flakes falling like snow, And the vermillioned girls getting drunk about sunset, And the water, a hundred feet deep, reflecting green eyebrows Eyebrows painted green are a fine sight in young moonlight, Gracefully painted And the girls singing back at each other, Dancing in transparent brocade, And the wind lifting the song, and interrupting it, Tossing it up under the clouds. And all this comes to an end. And is not again to be met with. I went up to the court for examination, Tried Layu's luck, offered the Choyo song, And got no promotion, and went back to the East Mountains White-headed. And once again, later, we met at the South bridge-head. And then the crowd broke up, you went north to San palace, And if you ask how I regret that parting : It is like the flowers falling at Spring's end Confused, whirled in a tangle. What is the use of talking, and there is no end of talking, There is no end of things in the heart. I call in the boy, Have him sit on his knees here To seal this, And send it a thousand miles, thinking. Four poems of Departure By Rihaku [Li Bo] or Omakitsu [Yip Wai-lim : By Wang Wei]. Light rain is on the light dust. The willows of the inn-yard Will be going greener and greener, But you, Sir, had better take wine ere your departure, For you will have no friends about you When you come to the gates of Go. Separation on the River Kiang By Rihaku Ko-jin goes west from Ko-kaku-ro, The smoke-flowers are blurred over the river. His lone sail blots the far sky. And now I see only the river, The long Kiang, reaching heaven. Taking Leave of a Friend By Rihaku [Li Bo] Blue mountains to the north of the walls, White river winding about them Here we must make separation And go out through a thousand miles of dead grass. Mind like a floating wide cloud, Sunset like the parting of old acquaintances Who bow over their clasped hands at a distance. Our horses neigh to each other as we are departing. Leave-Taking Near Shoku By Rihaku [Li Bo] "Sanso, King of Shoku, built roads" They say the roads of Sanso are steep. Sheer as the mountains. The walls rise in a man's face, Clouds grow out of the hill at his horse's bridle. Sweet trees are on the paved way of the Shin, Their trunks burst through the paving, And freshets are bursting their ice In the mids of Shoku, a proud city. Men's fates are already set, There is no need of asking diviners. [Der Staat Shoku = Shu. Die Stadt Shin = Chengdu. Rishogu = Li Guang]. The City of Choan By Rihaku [Li Bo] The phoenix are at play on their terrace. The phoenix are gone, the river flows on alone. Flowers and grass Cover over the dark path where lay the dynastic house of the Go. The bright cloths and bright caps of Shin Are now the base of old hills. The Three Mountains fall through the far heaven, The isle of White Heron splits the two streams apart. Now the high clouds cover the sun And I cannot see Choan afar And I am sad. South-Folk in Cold Country [Yip Wai-lim : By Li Bo] The Dai horse neighs against the bleak wind of Etsu, The birds of Etsu have no love for En, in the North, Emotion is born out of habit. Yesterday we went out of the Wild-Goose gate, To-day from the dragon-Pen. (1) Surprised. Desert turmoil. Sea sun. Flying snow bewilders the barbarian heaven. Lice swarm like ants over our accoutrements. Mind and spirit drive on the feathery banners. Hard fight gets no reward. Loyalty is hard to explain. Who will be sorry for General Rishogu, the swift moving, Whose white head is lost for this province ? (1) I.e., we have been warring from one end of the empire to the other, now east, now west, on each border. Sennin Poem by Kakuhaku [Yip Wai-lim : By Guo Pu]. The red and green kingfishers flash between the orchids and clover, One bird casts its gleam on another. Green vines hang through the high forest, They weave a whole roof to the mountain, The lone man sits with shut speech, He purrs and pats the clear strings. He throws his heart up through the sky, He bites through the flower pistil and brings up a fine fountain. The red-pine-tree god looks at him and wonders. He rides through the purple smoke to visit the sennin, He takes "Floaring Hill" (1) by the sleeve, He claps his hand on the back of the great water sennin. But you, you dam'd crowd of gnats, Can you even tell the age of a turtle ? (1) Name of a sennin. Ballad of the Mulberry Road Fenollosa MSS., very early) [Yip Wai-lim : anonymous] The sun rises in south-east corner of things To look on the tall house of the Shin For they have a daughter named Rafu (pretty girl), She made the name for herself : "Gauze Veil", For she feeds mulberries to silkworms, She gets them by the south wall of the town. With green strings she makes the warp of her basket, She makes the shoulder-straps of her basket from the boughs of Katsura, And she piles her hair up on the left side of her head-piece. Her earrings are made of pearl, Her underskirt is of green pattern-silk, Her overskirt is the same silk dyed in purple, And when men going by look on Rafu They set down their burdens, They sand and twirl their moustaches. Old Idea of Choan by Rosoriu [Yip Wai-lim : By Lu Zhaolin]. Yip Wai-lim : The original poem is 68 lines. Pound translated only the first sixteen lines. I The narrow streets cut into the wide highway at Choan, Dark oxen, white horses, drag on the seven coaches with outriders The coaches are perfumed wood, The jeweled chair is held up at the crossway, Before the royal lodge : A glitter of golden saddles, awaiting the princess ; They eddy before the gate of the barons. The canopy embroidered with dragons drinks in and casts back the sun. Evening comes. The trappings are bordered with mist. The hundred cords of mist are spread through and double the trees, Night birds, and night women, Spread out their sounds through the gardens. II Birds with flowery wing, hovering butterflies crowd over the thousand gates. Trees that glitter like jade, terraces tinged with silver, The seed of a myriad hues, A network of arbours and passages and covered ways, Double towers, winged roofs, border the network of ways : A place of felicitous meeting. Riu's house stands out on the sky, with glitter of colour As Butei of Kan had made the high golden lotus to gather his dews, Before it another house which I do not know : How shall we know all the friends whom we meet on strange roadways ? To-Em-Mei's "The Unmoving Cloud" By Tao Yuan Ming, 365-427 A.D. [Tao Yuanming = Tao Qian] "Wet Springtime", says To-Em-Mei, "Wet Spring in the Garden". I The clouds have gathered, and gathered, and the rain falls and falls, The eight ply of the heavens are all folded into one darkness, And the wide, flat road stretches out. I stop in my room toward the East, quiet, quiet, I pat my new cask of wine. My friends are estranged, or far distant, I bow my head and stand still. II Rain, rain, and the clouds have gathered, The eight ply of the heavens are darkness, The flat land is turned into river. "Wine, wine, here is wine" ! I drink by my eastern window. I think of talking and man, And no boat, no carriage, approaches. III The trees in my east-looking garden are bursting out with new twigs, They try to stir new affection, And men say the sun and moon keep on moving Because they can't find a soft seat. The birds flutter to rest in my tree, and I think I have heard them saying, "It is not that there are no other men But we like this fellow the best, But however we long to speak He cannot know of our sorrow". "I have not come to the end of Ernest Fenollosa's notes by a long way, nor is it entirely perplexity that causes me to cease from translation. True, I can find little to add to one line out of a certain Poem : 'You know ell where it was that I walked When you had left me.' In another I find a perfect speech in a literality which will be to many most unacceptable. The couplet is at follows : 'Drawing sword, cut into water, water again flow : Raise cup, quench sorrow, sorrow again sorrow'. [Final page] There are also other poems, notably the 'Five colour Screen', in which Professor Fenollosa was, as an art critic, especially interested, and Rihaku's sort of Ars Poetica, which might be given with diffidence to an audience of good will. But if I give them, with the necessary breaks for explanation, and a tedium of notes, it is quite certain that the personal hatred in which I am held by many, and the invidia which is directed against me because I have dared openly to declare my belief in certain young artists, will be brought to bear first on the flaws of such translation, and will then be merged into depreciation of the whole book of translations. Therefore I give only these unquestionable poems." E.P. |
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| 7 | 1915.2 |
Pound, Ezra. Cathay [ID D29059]. (2) Sekundärliteratur 1915 Arthur Clutton-Brock : "We do not know from the title of this little book whether Mr Pound has translated these poems direct from the Chinese or has only used other translations. But for those who, like ourselves, know no Chinese, it does not matter much. The result, however produced, is well worth having, and it seems to us very Chinese. There is a strong superstition among us that a translation should always seem quite English. But when it is made from a literature very alien in method and thought, it is not a translation at all if it seems quite English. Besides, a literal translation from something strange and good may surprise our language into new beauties. If we invite a foreigner of genius among us, we don't want to make him behave just like ourselves ; we shall enjoy him best and learn most from him if he remains himself. So we think Mr Pound has chosen the right method in these translations, and we do not mind that they often are 'not English'. The words are English and give us the sense ; and after all it is the business of a writer to mould language to new purposes, not to say something new just as his forefathers said something old. So it is the business of the reader not to be angry or surprised at a strange use of language, if it is a use proper to the sense. Mr. Pound has kept to the reality of the original because he keeps his language simple and sharp and precise. We hope he will give us some more versions of Chinese poetry." 1916 Arthur Clutton-Brock : "… His verse is not ordinary speech, but he aims in it at the illusion of ordinary speech ; and, thought this illusion gives an air of liveliness to the poems, it seems to us to be bought at too high a price. Certainly the original poems as well as the translations show that he has talent – one can read them all with some interest – but why should he use it to express so much indifference and impatience ? Why should he so constantly be ironical about nothing in particular ? He seems to have private jokes of his own which he does not succeed in making public. He seems to be always reacting against something ; and the very form of his verse is a reaction against exhausted forms. But nothing can be made of mere reaction or a habit of irony. The world may not be serious, but the universe is. One suspects a hidden timidity in this air of indifference, as if Mr Pound feared above all things to give himself away. A poet must be ready to give himself away ; he must forget even the ironies of his most intimate friends when he writes, no less than tha possible misunderstandings of fools…" 1918 Arthur Waley read a paper on 'The poet Li Bo, A.D. 701-762, before the China Society at the School of Oriental Studies in London, in which he gives his translation of Pomes no 3, 4, 8, and 14 of Cathay. "But I venture to surmise that if a dozen representative English poets could read Chinese poetry in the original, they would none of them give either the first or second place to Li Bo". 1938 Achilles Fang : Es wimmelt von orthographischen Fehlern, falschen Ämterbezeichnungen, verstellten Zeilen oder fehlenden Strophen. Öfter wird kein Dichter genannt oder ein falscher angegeben, noch dazu stets in japanischer Transkription. 1951 Hugh Kenner : "Cathay is notable, considered as an English product rather than Chinese product." These poems serve "to extend, inform, and articulate the preoccupations of the present by bringing the past abreast of it". 1965 A.C. Graham : "The art of translating Chinese poetry is a by-product of the Imagist movement, first exhibited in Ezra Pounds Cathay". 1970 Akiko Miyake : The vividness and freshness of Cathay as poetry depends more than anything else on Pound's effort to create his own Imagist poetry out of the unfamiliar materials. Fenollosa was a man with strong opinions on everything, and his individuality is shown in the notebooks. Even with his very limited knowledge of Chinese, he tried to reach the depth of the meaning by learning each word, each allusion. He aimed at more than scholarly accuracy, and Pound responded to such depth. He must have been fascinated by the task of groping for poetry underneath the unfamiliar surface. The greatest reward Pound got through writing Cathay comes probably from the fact that he could invent his own poetry even out of so remote a country as China, and of poetry in so ancient a period, for after writing Cathay, China became one of his indispensable themes. In writing Cathay, Pound by no means exhausted the rich resources of Fenollosa's essay. He did not even try the possibility of intellectual search with images in this little book. 1976 Monika Motsch : Im Gegensatz zu Chinese written character as a medium for poetry von Ernest Fenollosa [ID D22141], wird Cathay nicht angegriffen und abgelehnt, sondern anerkannt ; wenn nicht als wortgetreue Übersetzung, so doch als selbständige Dichtung. Die Anerkennung ist erstaunlich, da Pound in der Zeit, als er Cathay schrieb, kein einziges Wort Chinesisch konnte und auf Fenollosa's Notizen zurückgreifen musste, die fehlerhaft waren oder Lücken aufwiesen. Auch wenn Pounds Übersetzung voller Fehler ist, so hat er doch grundlegende Züge der chinesischen Sprache und Lyrik erfasst und im Englischen wiedergegeben : ihre syntaktische Einfachheit, die kommentarlos aufeinanderfolgenden, dynamischen Bilder, eindringliche Naturbeschreibungen und die emotionelle Verhaltenheit. Fenollosa hat Pounds Gesichtskreis ungeheuer erweitert. Er weckte sein Interesse an der Übersetzung alter Literaturen und regte ihn an zur Beschäftigung mit der chinesischen Lyrik und mit Konfuzius. The River Merchant's Wife : Das Gedicht ist eine ziemlich genaue Übersetzung des chinesischen Originals. Pound hat nur einige Namen ausgelassen, die Europäer nur mit Hilfe eines längeren Kommentars verständlich wären. Der Stil kennt, wie die chinesische Sprache, kaum grammatische Über- oder Unt4erordnung, und logisch ordnende Partikel fehlen fast vollständig. Poem by the Bridge at Ten-Shin : Das Gedicht setzt ein mit einfachen, klaren Hauptsätzen, die je eine Zeile einnehmen und dem Rhythmus eine getragene Ruhe verleihen. Die Verben sind teilweise weggelassen und der Rhythmus wird zunehmend dynamischer. Leave-Taking Near Shoku : Dass es sich um ein Abschiedsgedicht handelt, geht nur aus dem Titel hervor. Die Trauer bleibt unausgesprochen. In drei kurz skizzierten, gegensätzlichen Naturbildern wird die Unsicherheit der Trennung um so deutlicher. To-Em-Mei's "The Unmoving Cloud" : Die dritte Strophe ist bei Pound völlig anders als im Original und seine Version ist eher ein selbständiges Gedicht als eine Übersetzung. 1967 Yip Wai-lim : Cathay consists of only nineteen poems. Many people have translated at least five times as many from the Chinese ; but none among these has assumed so interesting and unique a position as Cathay in the history of English translations of Chinese poetry and in the history of modern English poetry. Considered as translation, Cathay ought to be viewed as a kind of re-creation. The poems are bound to differ from the originals in the sense that certain literal details are either eliminated or violated ; local tase is modified or even altered to suit the English audience and certain allusions are suppressed in order to relieve the readers from the burden of footnotes. The criticism of Cathay fall into two obvious patterns : defense and condemnation. Most of Pound's defenders could not discuss the way in which some of the poems are said to be close to the original in the 'sequence of images', 'rhythm', 'effects', and 'tone'. Those who condemn Pound tend to concentrate on the scar and overlook everything els. To understand Pound is to widen the possibility of communication, and a clear measurement of Pound' achievement : 1. To look at the problems of translation from Chinese into English, and in particular, to discuss the difficulty of approximating in English the peculiar mode of representation constituted by Chinese syntax. 2. To look into Pound's mind as a poet, to know the obsessive concepts and techniques he cherished at the time he translated these Chinese poems and to see haw these conditioned his translation. 3. Since Fenollosa annotated these poems under Japanese instructors ('Rihaku', for instance, is the Japanese name for Li Bo), it is necessary for us to examine the triple relation, from the original Chinese to Fenollosa's notes and to the end products, in order to find out how the intermediary has obstructed Pound and how his creative spirit sometimes breaks through the crippled text to resurrect what was in the original. 4. No translator can claim to have actually translated the poetry. This is also true of Pound. How close, then, are the 'equivalents' he gets out of the Fenollosa notes to the original, the 'cuts and turns' of the Chinese poems ? In other words, we need to compare carefully the original and the derivative 'form of consciousness' to see what has actually happened in between. In his dealing with Cathay Pound is able to get into the central consciousness of the original author by what we may perhaps call a kind of clairvoyance. Pound has indeed made many philological mistakes as a consequence of his ignorance of Chinese. But it is important to remind readers that not all of them are due to ignorance ; many are done deliberately to heighten artistic intensity, and some, for a less defensible reason, are conditioned by his own obsessions as a practicing poet. The first poem Song of the bowmen of Shu is a reworking from Ariga Nagao's English version. It has followed the curves of the original's internal thought-form and the undercurrent of sadness. Pound has to admit that he has changed partially the character of the semi-monologue he has all the way dominated. 1967 D.B. Graham : While some of the Cathay poems have drawn wide praise and much analytical attention, Separation on the river Kiang has been faulted for its errors or else ignored. The criticism of this poem raises certain important questions about the critical perspective of the early Chinese translations. The usual charges against Cathay, and Separation on the river Kiang in particular, have to do with Pound's 'failure' to render literally the Chinese of Li Bo. They are chastising Pound for mistranslating and praising him for not translating. In Cathay Pound was not concerned with the quality of verse that he described as 'melopoeia', the 'musical property' of poetry. The 'melopoeia' Separation is achieved through several techniques. The first is the duplication of the monosyllabic pattern that constitutes the basic rhythmic unit of Chinese poetry. Metrically, the monosyllabic base helps Pound achieve a central aim, the breaking up of the dominant measure of English verse, the iambic. In addition to the 'melopoeia' of the monosyllabic structure of the poem, some 'melopoetic' effects are also accomplished by syntactical reduction. Of the prime characteristics of Chinese verse, none is more apparent or important than conciseness, terseness, economy. The key to Pound's succinctness lies in the syntactical order of subject / verb / complement, a formula that Fenollosa saw as central to Chinese verse. The ideogram attracted Fenollosa and Pound precisely because they viewed it as a direct expression of action. The music of Pound's poem is not confined to imitating the 'melopoetic' qualities of Chinese verse. Pound combines specifically Chinese traditions and English techniques to produce something both ancient and new. Like Fenollosa before him, Pound was attracted to the Chinese ideogram as a natural medium for poetry. Both saw the ideogram as bearing a direct, inherent relationship with the thing it names. Linguistically wrong, Pound and Fenollosa were pragmatically astute, for Chinese verse did depend heavily on concrete images, a reliance that made it a perfect medium of imitation for the imagists. 1971 Hugh Kenner : The 14 poems in the original Cathay were selected from some 150 in the notebooks, were the first 'vers-libre' translations not derived from other translations but from detailed notes on the Chinese texts. the Cathay poems paraphrase an elegiac war poetry. Perfectly vital after 50 years, they are among the most durable of all poetic responses to World War I. 1978 Antony Tatlow : In making his Cathay translations Pound had employed a method which took as its starting point the Chinese line and phrase. In those poems which stress the context of speech, the Chinese line of often broken up to meet the requirements of his own rhythmus. The form of speech is often stylized but the element of gesture is fundamental and is inseparable from Pound's sense of the present relevance of the poem. 1979 John Kwan-Terry : Pound's contemporaries spoke of the Cathay poems as adding 'a new breath' to the literary atmosphere and as 'like a door in a wall, opening upon a landscape made real by the intensity of human emotions'. I believe that the poems, besides being a stage in the technical development of Pound's poetry, also constitute an important chapter in the development of Pound's poetic sensibility. From the beginning, Pound's poetry sought to relate two seemingly disparate worlds – one, a world of irritating contemporary realities confronted by a vibrant vitality anxious to do battle ; the other, a world of aesthetic and mystic visions that seemed to transcend time and its wars altogether. In the raw material provided by Fenollosa, Pound saw the possibility, or the possibility presented itself for him, to create or recreate a poetry that can integrate the high and the low, the ordinary and the transcendent. Like the early poems, the Cathay poems are infused with a sense of loss, of desolation and loneliness, but on a wider scale. Reading these poems, one has the impression of vast distances and the partings and exiles that distances entail ; an empire so huge that its defenders and functionaries cannot know its purposes, and perhaps these purposes are absurd anyway ; distances also in time and history, so great that human glory cannot hope to outlast them. The social scope covered is equally impressive : war and peace, the high-born and the low-born, the intellectual and the domestic, the soldier and the poet, wife, husband, lover, friend. What sets these poems apart, is an achieved sense of harmony, of unity sought and found – the unity that integrates the contemporary reality with the self, the quotidian with the eternal moment. A quality of Chinese poetry that appeals to Pound strongly is the absence of 'moralizing', 'comment', and 'abstraction'. Cathay poems involve the subjective, but they do not convey the sense of being 'abandoned' which seems to be the prevailing ethos in modern literature and is so strong an element in Pound's poetry. There is less sense of the 'anguish' of being without God. There is resignation, but not despair. The poetry conveys a sense of gratitude, a creative delight in experience, in the small moments of life. One of the greatest values in Cathay is that it can express the human need for relationship, and the ways in which the sense of identity is bound up with love. For Pound, Fenollosa's theory seemed to come as a powerful criticism of the principles of Imagism. The implications in Fenollosa's essay, as Pound saw them, were that Imagism took too static a view of what poetry could perform. It conceived of the world as so many inert 'things', to be brought into juxtaposition, whereas the world is made up of 'energies', and a poems should be a sort of vortex, concentrating these energies. The Cathay poems mark a unique stage in Pound's career, a stage in which Pound's sensibility, interacting with the Chinese tradition, discovered a creative theme, a sense of the integrated man. 1985 Ronald Bush : Pound, maintaining the beautiful indirection of the poem The river-merchant's wife, transformed its subject. The implied emotional drama of the poem is one of love maturing before our eyes. The wife remembers herself as a little girl, recalls a time when she entered into an arranged marriage without much feeling, and then, spurred by the pain her husband's departure has provoked, slowly realizes how much she cares for him. At the end of the poem she dreams of his returning and achieves a poignant reunion by traveling a considerable distance in her imagination to meet him halfway. In Pound's hands, this poem becomes a dark reflection of its Chinese self and a recognizable cousin to the poems of blocked expression in the suite around it. In Pound's poem, to affirm her love for her husband, the wife must overcome not only the miles between them but also her own fugitive feelings of betrayal. Comparing the Exile's letter to the notes on which it is based, Pound exaggerated Li Po's nostalgia for a past when poets were joined in true fellowship. Something extraordinary is created in his poem, not by a single friendship but by a poetic community that disdains gold and has forgotten kings and princes. It is this unique fellowship that allows the poets for once to speak out their 'hearts and minds without regret'. 1990 Qian Zhaoming : Cathay is a beautiful translation of classical Chinese poetry. It is considered as such because it has translated the charm and simplicity of the classical Chinese poems. To this one may add that it takes a great poet plus a great critic to translate great poetry. Though Pound is handicapped by his own ignorance of the Chinese language and Fenollosa's numerous misrepresentations, with his poetic sensibility and critical experience he is able to penetrate the shell and catch the quintessence. It is true that there are many deviations in his translation. But compared with what he has preserved, the presentation, the mood, and the whole image, his flaws are negligible and his triumph is great. It is through Pound that the English readers first get the original of such great Chinese poets as Li Bo. But Pound himself has also benefited from translating Chinese classical poetry. He is exposed to new sensibilities and new techniques, which in turn exert an important impact on him in his literary career, and through him also exert an important impact on modern English poetry. 1996 Robert Kern : Cathay is very much a production of creative reading, where 'creative' means not only inventive or fictionalizing but insightful and penetrating, both psychologically and philologically. Pound is nonetheless able to recover the movement of consciousness in his texts, even to the point of occasionally capturing elusive realities of voice and tone, an achievement which virtually demands that he go beyond strict dictionary meanings. Therefore, if he is also guilty of errors because of his ignorance of Chinese, or because he is misled by the uncertainties of Fenollosa's notes, sometimes his inaccuracies are conscious and deliberate, committed for the sake of greater artistic intensity and even on behalf of 'his own obsessions as a practicing poet'. The poems in Cathay are not only sometimes acutely 'accurate', despite their deviations from dictionary sense, but are continuous, thematically and in other respects, with the rest of Pound's work. What need to be stressed is the extent to which he as deliberately pursued this continuity, and it is under the category of his 'obsessions as a practicing poet', that Pound's acts of Orientalizing or creative reading should be placed. Cathay appropriates Chinese poetry for purposes other than those of Chinese poetry itself. Pound is using the Chinese texts as a drawing board for the creation of a modernist style or technique, he is also already practicing it, in the sense that modernism in general may be defined as an activity of appropriation, a series of strategies, such as allusion, collage, and what Pound would later call 'the ideogrammic method', for incorporating other texts, other voices, other perspectives within one's own, and for shoring up, the ruins of the modern world, amassing the cultural valuables of the past and increasingly of other, non-Western cultures in order to restore coherence and stability to modern experience, or to create them anew. At the same time, he seems to be moving beyond imagism, and in many of the Cathay poems, which reflect Pound's reading of Fenollosa's essay, we find less of an emphasis on the image as 'itself the speech', less reliance on the technique of superpositioning as a structural resource, and less of an appeal in general to strict imagist orthodoxy as a means of producing the Chinese poem. Pound invents Chinese for his English reader by defamiliarizing his English. This process takes several forms in Cathay, one of the most important of which is both Fenollosan and imagist. Writing for Pound, during this period, is a process of stripping words of their associations in order to arrive at their exact meanings and this process is itself a form of defamiliarization, of discovering and presenting arrangements of language that emphasize their own strangeness with respect to more conventional, or historically and culturally conditioned, modes of expression. 1998 Grace Fang : Pound found Chinese poetry and ideograms to be the perfect means of expression for his creative resources and convictions. His translations provided him with a new opportunity to recreate the source text and to activate dynamic responses in the reader, which reflect a vivid Chinese picture through Western eyes. Not every character is a picture, and even when most Chinese people use a character originally created as an imitation of the shape of a object, they will not be aware of its etymology. Chinese language derives much of its poetic power from its three-thousand-year development of these phonetic and semantic devices. It also functions as a normal communicative language in which the form of the character does not stand for its original visual form but for the meaning it conveys. There is an arbitrary relationship between sign and meaning, and the character represents not the original natural image but the conventional signification. A Chinese character can stand by itself as 'a word' or can be combined with one or two or three other characters to from 'a word', which would lead the character to lose its own original meaning and to gain a new significance in the combination as a compound word. Therefore, the ideogrammic method either risks over-emphasizing the etymological meaning of the separated part of the character or mistaking the individual signified for the significance of a whole compound word. Fenollosa and Pound show great concern for the language they deal with, but to over-emphazise the philological sense at the expense of other considerations, such as the total textual structure, rhyme, and 'original meaning' refined by the original poet, is dangerous, particularly when the translator has not established his expertise in the source language. Misinterpretations and mistakes are bound to happen. Pound's Cathay is a poetic performance across three culture, three languages (Chinese, Japanese, English), to be synchronized in his own poetic voice. Although Pound may sometimes have conveyed certain wrong meanings, most of the time he has conveyed the right feeling. Although he does not understand all the words, he has remained as faithful as possible to the original poet's sequence of tone, voice, rhythms and images. 1999 Eric Hayot : The differences between Arthur Waley and Pound notwithstanding, it is vital to notices how far they both are from Herbert A. Giles' attempts to turn the Chinese poem into an English one. Relative to Giles's, Pound's translations allowed the poems to stay strange, English enough to read but Chinese enough to represent their own difference. He was essentially 'rebuking' Giles for not making his translations Chinese enough, for bringing them too far into English. Waley's rebuke of Pound criticizes Pound for doing exactly what Pound didn't like about Giles, namely for making the poems too English, and for not adequately respecting their originals. Pound's translations impress more than Waley's precisely because they have something poetic about them. Pound was, at times, wrong both about the specifics of his language and the general tone of the poem. Despite the vast differences in their literary reception, it can be helpful to consider differences between Giles, Pound, Waley and Yip matters of degree rather than king. Each translator attempts to bring across more or less of the Chinese difference by putting it in a literary or cultural language more or less comprehensible to English readers, most of whom know little about China. Inevitably, the translation will carry with it aspects of English language and culture not justified by any mood or motive of the original text. 1999 Ming Xie : The connection between Pound's haiku images and his earlier epigrams might be viewed as the logical precedent for what Pound set out to do in Cathay. Pound's apparent ignorance of Chinese and Chinese literary forms has perhaps enabled him to modulate and transpose freely the original Chinese poems in terms adapted to his own generic experiments and expressive consideration. He was perhaps fortunate enough not to be in a position to render literally from the original Chinese ; he evidently derived a stimulus to innovate forms of a more immediate expressiveness from this ostensibly unpromising activity, that of translating from a language not fully understood. The Cathay poems display the importance of a certain kind of provincialism of feeling, feeling deeply rooted in details of the actual circumscribed world of the protagonists. Pound and Thomas Hardy are often concerned with the reality of memory and retrospection, regret and melancholy, time and isolation. The use of natural imagery in the poems is often of primary importance. There is a natural relation of the natural setting to the speaking and observing persona in the Cathay poems, as well as a sense of distance that separates the observer or speaker from the natural world that he or she observes. But the resulting tension is precisely what is most important in any good poems. The individual perspective in Cathay is for the most part retrospective and is almost always tinged with an elegiac coloring. This elegiac coloring is not a general, all-pervasive mood or atmosphere enveloping or devouring the individual speakers in the poems. It also often tends to leave the emotional stance of the translating poet in a kind of sympathetic neutrality, not by any implicit collusion expressing his own personal elegiac feeling. The Cathay poems as a whole do not provide some extraordinary moral perspective in which the reader would be invited to judge morally ; rather, they almost invariably invite the reader to participate and sympathize in an ordinary highly individualized emotional or psychological perspective, except that the exotic and unfamiliar context makes this for the Western reader 'ordinary' only by an act of consciously maintained vicarious projection. The river-merchant's wife : In Pound's version the emotion of the woman speaker is presented within her confined perspective through particular stages of emotional development and psychological retrospection, out of which emerge different shades of meaning and significance. Pound divides the poem into different stanzas or strophes, in order to delineate more sharply and contrastively the successive stages of retrospection and revelation. In the Chinese poem, due to lack of specified relations of tense or number, the narrative sequence is not explicitly established by syntactical markers. Pound has largely ignored Fenollosa's theory of the transitive verb. His Cathay displays a surprisingly wide variety of poetic techniques and rhetorical structures neglected in Fenollosa's treatise, especially in the use of paratactic and anaphoric constructions. These devices do not in fact originate with Cathay ; rather they are a continuation of Pound's earlier practices and experiments. But it is nevertheless evident that Pound's extensive use of these structures is based upon his intuitive sense of their importance and significance in the original Chinese poems, as confirmed in large part by Fenollosa's often detailed notes and literal versions. The language of Cathay was colloquial, prosaic, and contemporary ; it did not try to cast the original Chinese in correspondingly archaic or antiquarian English, as was often Pound's practice. Cathay is an example of a strong tendency in Pound to regard translation as not historical but contemporary or timeless. Pound's versions seem to come nearer to the real qualities of Chinese poetry, because he has largely stripped away most of the supposed or fictitious qualities that late-Victorian poetic treatment (by James Legge, Herbert Giles) had imposed upon classical Chinese poetry. The success of Cathay is also largely due to Pound's tacit and skillful reliance upon a stylized evocation of China. The use of Chinese landscape seems to provide a powerful confirmation of the kind of 'otherness' which Western readers tacitly identified with an emotional coding linked to understood conventions of feeling in Chinese art and poetry. 2000 Sylvia Ieong Sao Leng : Ezra Pound's Cathay had gone through two rearrangements before it was brought out by Elkin Mathews in April 1915. Originally, the sequence was made up of eleven poems. The Cathay typescript at the Beinecke Library shows that Pound had added four poems to the original eleven when he submitted the sequence to Mathews. In the last minute, pound ‘suppressed the four appended poems and added 'Lament of the frontier guard' and 'South – folk in cold country'. In 1916 when Pound incorporated Cathay into Lustra, he restored the four suppressed poems. 2003 Barry Ahearn : Pound leads his readers to believe that the original Chinese verses are of such high quality that even inexpert translators cannot greatly harm them. In Chinese poetry he cites two poems as examples of how Chinese and Western poetic practices share common ground. In respect of The jewel stairs' grievance he illustrates how the Western reader should approcach the poem : "I have never found any occidental who could 'make much' of that poem at one reading. Yet upon careful examination we find that everything is there, no merely by 'suggestion' but by a sort of mathematical process of reduction. Let us consider what circumstances would be needed to produce just the words of this poems. You can play Conan Doyle if you like." Pound first shares the burden with Fenollosa, Mori Kainan and Ariga Nagao (though on closer inspection, he calls their abilities into question and transfer credit to the poems themselves. Second, he contends that the poems have qualities (some of which he specifies and some of which he does not) that make them amenable to translation. There is also a third strategy Pound employs to divert the readers' attention from his role as translator. This third strategy is to include images in the poems that will strike the reader as recognizably Chinese because these images already seem Chinese, thanks to existing Western preconceptions about China. He adopted various strategies to suggest the virtual identity of Chinese poetry and Western literary forms. But he also 'foreignized' the translations to remind his readers that there were unavoidable differences. Pound uses complicated means to make his translations seem authentically 'foreign' – complicated because they depend upon delicate adjustments of diction. In his attempt to make the language of Cathay on occasionally bizarre form of English, Pound does not limit himself to nouns and verbs. He well knew that some of the most perplexing problems for a novice translator arise from some of the simplest words. The effect of verbal perplexities is to produce a strange impression, the impression that this translation has been produced not by Ezra Pound, but by a native speaker of Chinese whose command of English is less than fluent. Pound inserts a sufficient number of odd expressions in the poems, with the intention of leaving the reader with the impression that even though these English versions may be imperfect, there must lie behind them a superior Chinese original. Pound's treatment of the poems in the Fenollosa papers adopts a divided stance : the Chinese poems are like Western ones ; the Chinese poems are in many respect alien. 2007 Choi Hongsun : Pound departs from his Anglocentric conversion and takes a centrifugal attitude toward otherness of the other. He attempts to foreground the cultural and linguistic otherness of Chinese poetry and to revive its own poetic qualities in his translated poems. Pound the poet searches for 'dynamic equivalence' in consideration of the receptor language and culture. This target language oriented approach has a centripetal focus on a new poetic English that is filtered through translation. Thus, such otherness is incorporated into the Pound's own creative work. Pound's translation of Chinese poetry maintains the precarious tension between two different translating strategies : formal equivalence and dynamic equivalence. Cathay demonstrates Pound's attempts to foreground the otherness of the Chinese original to further the potential of English poetry through the appropriation of such otherness. In regards to formal equivalence, Pound the translator pursues a text to be equivalent, rather than equal, to the distinctive aspects of Chinese poetry. He thus foreignizes English in an attempt to reflect the poetic otherness of the original. At the same time, while his translation is oriented toward dynamic equivalence, such otherness is incorporated into his whole poetic arsenal of English, so that Pound the poet invents a new English stranger than the original Chinese. Even concerning dynamic equivalence, his translated language never gets domesticated conventionally, but rather it must be identified as somewhere between the source language and the target language. In this way, Cathay marks an important turning point in the history of Chinese translation as well as in Pound's own literary career. 2012 A. Serdar Öztürk : The image, the ideogram itself, if it is to be effective, depends greatly on the beauty and the force of the image, the ideogrammic component. That Pound was successful in translating the Chinese image is everywhere attested in Cathay. Which ties the poem together is not so much the narrative as the succession of images. The Imagists concern for concentrated expression and Pound's definition of the image as 'an intellectual and emotional complex in an instant of time' would lead one to believe, that most of the poetry in Cathay would tend toward brevity. Although there are a representative number of short poems, the greater number is rather long. To account for the ability to sustain an image in a poem of more than a few lines, or even a few stanzas, one must turn again to the effectiveness of ideogrammic juxtaposition. |
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| 8 | 1933 |
Ehrenstein, Albert. Das gelbe Lied [ID D12454]. Quellen : Arthur Waley und Erwin von Zach. Darin enthalten : Gedichte aus dem Shi jing (33), von Li Bo (58), Du Fu (30), Bo Juyi (158) und 55 andere Gedichte. Han Ruixin : Ehrenstein hat an der Verbesserung und Erweiterung seiner Nachdichtungen chinesischer Lyrik gearbeitet. Themen sind Kummer und Leiden des Daseins, Armut, soziale Ungerechtigkeit, Krieg, Sehnsucht nach Liebe, Heimweh, Vergänglichkeit und Einsamkeit. |
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| 9 | 1966 |
The Cassia tree : a collection of translations & adaptations from the Chinese. David Rafael Wang ; in collaboration with William Carlos Williams [ID D29171]. Note : These poems are not translations in the sense that Arthur Waley's versions are translations. They are rather re-creations in the American idiom – a principle to which William Carlos Williams dedicated his poetic career. (D.R.W.) Popular T'ang and Sung poems I Meng Hao-chuan (689-740) [Meng Haoran 689/691-740] In spring you sleep and never know when the morn comes, Everywhere you hear the songs of the birds, But at night the sound of the wind mingles with the rain's, And you wonder how many flowers have fallen. II Li Po (701-762) [Li Bo] Spotting the moonlight at my bedside, I wonder if it is frost on the ground. After raising my head to look at the bright moon, I lower it to think of my old country. III Liu, Chung-yuan, 773-819 [Liu Zhongyuan] The birds have flown away from the mountains, The sign of men has gone from the paths, But under a lone sail stoops an old fisherman, Angling in the down-pouring snow. IV Ho Chi-chong = Ho Chih-chang), 659-744 [He Zhizhang = Jizhen] [(Xiaoshan, Zhejiang 659-)] Returning after I left my home in childhood, I have kept my native accent but not the color of my hair. Facing the smiling children who shyly approach me, I am asked from where I come. V Meng Hao-chuan = Meng Hao-jan (689-740) [Meng Haoran 689/691-740] Steering my little boat towards a misty islet, I watch the sun descend while my sorrows grow : In the vast night the sky hangs lower than the treetops, But in the blue lake the moon is coming close. VI Wang Wei (699-759) Alighting from my horse to drink with you, I asked, 'Where are you going ? ' You said, 'Retreating to lie in the southern mountains' Silent, I watch the white clouds endless in the distance. VII Li Yu (The last king of the Southern T'ang dynasty, 937-978) Silently I ascend the western pavilion. The moon hangs like a hairpin. In the deep autumn garden The wu-t'ung stands alone. Involute, Entagled, The feeling of departure Clings like a wet leaf to my heart. The maid (Ancient folk poem) Drives sheep through ravine, With the white goat in front. The ole gal unmarried, Her sigh reaches heaven. Aihe ! Aihe ! Endless dream of the shepherd. 'Hold man's left arm, Turn and toss with him'. 'Stroke man's whiskers, watch changin' expression'. The shepherd unmindful Can she force him ? Cho Wen-chun (Han poetess, 2nd century B.C.) [Zhuo Wenjun, ca. 179-ca. 117 B.C.] Lament of a graying woman White as the snow on mountaintop, Bright as the moon piercing the clouds, Knowing that you have a divided heart, I come to you before you are gone. We have lived long together in this town. What need is there for a feast of wine ? But a feast we must have today, For tomorrow we'll be by the stream And I'll lag behind you at the fork, Watching the waters flow east or west. Tears and still more tears. Why should we lament ? If only there is a constant man Till white-hair shall we never part ! SOCIETY OF POETS I To Li Po Tu Fu 712-770 [Du Fu] The floating cloud follows the sun. The traveler has not yet returned. For three nights I dreamt of you, my friend, So clearly that I almost touched you. You left me in a hurry. Your passage is fraught with trouble : The wind blows fiercely over lakes and rivers. Be watchful lest you fall from your boat ! You scratched your white head when leaving the door, And I knew the journey was against your wishes. Silk-hatted gentlemen have swamped the capital, While you, the poet, are lean and haggard. If the net of heaven is not narrow, Why should you be banished when you are old ? Ten thousand ages will remember your warmth ; When you are gone the world is silent and cold. II To Meng Hao-jan Li Po [Li Bo] I love Meng-fu-tsu. His name is known throughout China. While rosy-cheeked he gave up his office ; Now with white hair he lies in the pine clouds. Drunk with the moon he is a hermit-saint ; Lost in flowers he will not serve any kings. Can I reach him who is like a high mountain ? I am contented if I only breathe in his fragrance. III To Wang Wei Meng Hao-chuan [Meng Haoran 689/691-740] Quietly, quietly, why have I been waiting ? Emptily, emptily, I return every day alone. I have been in search of fragrant grass And miss the friend who can accompany me. Who will let me roam his private park ? Understanding ones in the world are rare. I shall walk back home all by myself And fasten the latch on the gate of my garden. Meng Hao-chuan [Meng Haoran 689/691-740] After the party The guest, still drunk, sprawls in my bed How am I going to get him awake ? The chicken congee is boiling on the stove And the new wine is heated to start our day. Meng Hao-chuan [Meng Haoran 689/691-740] Late spring In April the lake water is clear Everywhere the birds are singing The ground just swept, the petals fall again The grass, though stepped on, remains green My drinking companions gather to compare fortunes Open the keg to get over the bout of drinking With cups held high in our hands We hear the voices of sing-song girls ringing. Wang Wei (699-759) Ce-Lia the immortal beauty The beauty of a maiden is coveted by the world. So how could a girl like Ce-Lia be slighted for long ? In the mourning she was just another lass in the village, But in the evening she has become the king's concubine. Was she different from the rest in her days of poverty ? Now that she is favored, all begin to realize her beauty is rare. She can command her maids to powder and perfume her face, And is no longer obliged to don her own clothing. The adoration of her Emperor has brought pride to her being, And the king's 'Yes' and 'No' vary in accordance with her caprice. The companions who washed at the brookside along with her Are not entitled any more to ride back home in the same carriage. Why should we bother to sympathize with these rustic girls, Since they'll never have Beauty to accompany them, Even if they should master the art of coquetry ? Wang Wei The peerless lady Look, there goes the young lady across the street She looks about fifteen, doesn't she ? Her husband is riding the piebald horse Her maids are scraping chopped fish from a gold plate. Her picture gallery and red pavilion stand face to face The willow and the peach trees shadow her eaves Look, she's coming thru the gauze curtains to get into her chaise : Her attendants have started winnowing the fans. Her husband got rich early in his life A more arrogant man you never find around ! She keeps busy by teaching her maids to dance She never regrets giving jewels away. There goes the light by her window screen The green smoke's rising like petals on wave The day is done and what does she do ? Her hair tied up, she watches the incense fade. None but the bigwigs visit her house Only the Chaos and the Lees get by her guards But do you realize this pretty girl Used to beat her clothes at the river's head ? There goes the light by her window screen The green smoke's rising like petals on wave The day is done and what does she do ? Her fair tied up, she watches the incense fade. None but the bigwigs visit her house Only the Chaos and the Lees get by her guards But do you realize this pretty girl Used to beat her clothes at the river's head ? Li Po [Li Bo] A letter My love, When you were here there was a hall of flowers. When you are gone there is an empty bed. Under the embroidered coverlet I toss and turn. After three years I smell you fragrance. Your fragrance never leaves, But you never return. I think of you, the yellow leaves are ended And the white dew dampens the green moss. Li Po [Li Bo] Spring song A young lass Plucks mulberry leaves by the river Her white hand Reaches among the green Her flushed cheeks Shine under the sun The hungry silkworms Are waiting Oh, young horseman Why do you tarry. Get going. Li Po [Li Bo] Summer song The Mirror Lake (Three hundred miles), Where lotus buds Burst into flowers. The slippery shore Is jammed with admirers, While the village beauty Picks the blossoms. Before the sails Breast the rising moon, She's shipped away To the king's harem. Li Po [Li Bo] In the wineshop of Chinling The wind scatters the fragrance of the willows over the shop The sing-song girls pour the rice wine heated for the guests My friends have gathered to say goodbye Drinking cup after cup, I wonder why I should start 'Say, can you tell me about the east-flowing river – Does it stretch as long as this feeling of departure ?' Li Po [Li Bo] Solo The pavilion pierces the green sky Below is the white jade chamber The bright moon is ready to set Casting its glance behind the screen window Solitary she stands Her thin silk skirt ruffled by autumn frost She fingers softly the séchin Composing the Mulberry Song. The sound reverberates And the wind circles the crossbeams Outside the pedestrians are turning away And the birds are gone to their nests. The weight of feeling Cannot be carried away by song and She longs for someone To soar with her like a mandarin drake. Li Po [Li Bo] The youth on horseback The youth from the capital rides by the east of the city. His white horse and silver saddle sail through the spring breeze. Having trampled all the flowers where else could he go ? Smiling, he enters the barroom of the white prostitute. Li Po [Li Bo] The Knight In March the dust of Tartary has swept over the capital. Inside the city wall the people sigh and complain. Under the bridge the water trickles with warm blood And bales of white bones lean against one another. I departed east for the Kingdom of Wu. Clouds block the four fortresses and the roads are long. Only the crows announce the rise of the sun. Someone opens the city gate to sweep away the flowers. Wu-t'ungs and willows hover above the well. Drunk, I come to the knight-errant's home. The knights-errant of Fu Feng are rare in this world : With arms around their friends they'll heave mountains. The posture of the generals means little to them And, drinking, they ignore the orders of the cabinet. With fancy food on carved plates they entertain their guests. With songs and dance their sing-song girls unwind a fragrant wind. The fabulous dukes of the six kingdoms Were known for their entertainment : In the dining hall of each three thousand were fed. But who knew which one would remember to repay ? They stroke their long swords, arching their eyebrows ; By the clear water and white rock they decline to separate. Doffing my hat I turn to you smiling. Drinking your wine I recite only for you. I have not yet met my master of strategy – The bridgeside hermit may read my heart. Li Po [Li Bo] Drinking together We drink in the mountain while the flowers bloom, A pitcher, a pitcher, and one more pitcher. As my head spins you get up. So be back any time with your guitar. Li Po [Li Bo] The march The bay horse is fitted with a white jade saddle. The moon shivers over the battlefield. The sound of iron drums still shakes the city walls And in the case the gold sword oozes blood. Li Po [Li Bo] Long Banister Lane When my hair was first trimmed across my forehead, I played in front of my door, picking flowers. You came riding a bamboo stilt for a horse, Circling around my yard, playing with green plums. Living as neighbors at Long Banister Lane, We had an affection for each other that none were suspicious of. At fourteen I became your wife, With lingering shyness, I never laughed. Lowering my head towards a dark wall, I never turned, though called a thousand times. At fifteen I began to show my happiness, I desired to have my dust mingled with yours. With a devotion ever unchanging. Why should I look out when I had you ? At sixteen you left home For a faraway land of steep pathways and eddies, Which in May were impossible to traverse, And where the monkey whined sorrowfully towards the sky. The footprints you made when you left the door Have been covered by green moss, New moss too deep to be swept away. The autumn wind came early and the leaves started falling. The butterflies, yellow with age in August, Fluttered in pairs towards the western garden. Looking at the scene, I felt a pang in my heart, And I sat lamenting my fading youth. Every day and night I wait for your return, Expecting to receive your letter in advance, So that I will some traveling to greet you As far as Windy Sand. Adaptation of Li Po [Li Bo] The visitor See that horseman from the distant land, Greeneyed and wearing a tigerskin hat, Smiling, he lifts two arrows from his case, And ten thousand people shy away. He bends his bow like a circling moon And from the clouds white geese spin down in pairs. Shaking his whip high in the air, He starts out hunting with his pack. Once out of his dooryard what does he care ? What matters if he dies pro patria ? Prouder he is than five filtans And has the wolf's love for seeking out a herd. He drives the cattle further north And with a tiger's appetite tastes the freshly killed. But he camps at the Swallow Mountain, Far from the arctic snow. From his horse a woman smiles at him, Her face a vermilion vessel of jade. As his flying darts haunt birds and beasts, Flowers and the moon land drunk in his saddle. The light of the alien star flashes and spreads While war gathers head like the swarming of wasps. From the edge of his white sword blood drips and drips. It covers the floating sand. Are there any more reckless generals left ? – The soldiers are too tired to complain. Tu Fu [Du Fu] Profile of a lady A pretty, pretty girl Lives in the empty mountain Came from a celebrated family Now alone with her fagots. In the civil war All her brothers were killed. Why talk of pedigree, When she couldn'd collect their bones ? World feeling rises against the decline, Then follows the rotating candle. Husband has a new interest : A beauty subtle as jade. The acacia knows its hour The mandarin duck never lies alone. Husband listens to the laughter of new girl Deaf to the tears of the old. Spring in the mountains is clear, Mud underfoot. She sends the maid to sell jewels Pick wisteria to mend the roof Wears no fresh flower Bears cypress boughs in her hands. Leans cold against the bamboo Her green sleeves flutter. Tu Fu [Du Fu] Visit The life we could seldom meet Separate as the stars. What a special occasion tonight That we gather und the candle-lamp ! How long can youth last ? Our hair is peppered with white. Half of our friends are ghosts It's so good to see you alive. How strange after twenty years To revisit your house ! When I left you were single Your children are grown up now. They treat me with great respect, Ask where I came from. Before I can answer You send your son for the wine. In the rain you cut scallions And start the oven to cook rice. 'It's hard to get together Let's finish up these ten goblets.' After ten goblets we are still sober The feeling of reunion is long. Tomorrow I have to cross the mountain Back to the mist of the world. Wang Ch'ang-ling (circa 727) [Wang Changling (698–756)] Chant of the frontiersman I The cicadas are singing in the mulberry forest : It is August at the fortress. We pass the frontiers to enter more frontiers. Everywhere the rushes are yellow. The sodbusters from the provinces Have disappeared with the dust they kicked up. Why should we bother to be knights-errant ? Let us discuss the merits of bayards. II I lead the horse to drink in the autumn river. The river is icy and the wind cuts like knives. In the desert the sun has not yet gone down ; In the shade I see my distant home. When the war first spread to the Great Wall, We were filled with patriotic fervor. The yellow sand has covered the past glories ; The bleached bones are scattered over the nettles. Wang Chen (circa 775) [Wang Zhen] The newlywed's cuisine The thir night after wedding I get near the stove. Rolling up my sleeves I make a fancy broth. Not knowing the taste Of my mother-in-law, I try it first upon her Youngest girl. Li Yu Bella donna Iu Spring flowers, autumn moon – when will you end ? How much of the past do you recall ? At the pavilion last night the cast wind sobbed. I can hardly turn my head homeward In this moonlight. The carved pillars and the jade steps are still here. But the color of your checks is gone. When asked : 'How much sorrow do you still have ?' 'Just like the flood of spring water Rushing eastward.' Li Ts'un-hsu (Emporor Chuang of the later T'ang Dynasty, 10th century. [Zhuang Zong] In dream's wake We dine in a glade concealed in peach petals. We dance like linnets and sing like phoenixes. Then we part. Like a dream, Like a dream, A mist envelops the pale moon and fallen blossoms. Kuo Mo-jo (1893-) [Guo Moruo] From Phoenix undying Ah ! Our floating and inconstant life Is like a delirious dream in a dark night. Before us is sleep, Behind us is sleep ; It comes like the fluttering wind, It comes like the trailing smoke ; Enters like wind, Departs like smoke. Behind us : sleep, Before us : sleep. In the midst of our sleep we appear Like the momentary wind and smoke. Mao Tse-tung (1893-) [Mao Zedong] Spring in the now-drenched garden The northern countryside of China Is bound by miles and miles of ice. Snow flies over the border, And outside of the Great Wall Waste land stretches as though endless. The great Hwang Ho rushes in torrents Up and down the skyline. The mountains thrash like silvery snakes, Their contours soar like waxen elephants Vying with the gods in height. On a fine day, The landscape unveils like a maiden Dressing up in her boudoir. Such enchanting mountains and rivers Have led countless heroes to rival in homage. Pity that the founders of Ch'in and Han Were unversed in the classics ; Pity that the great kings of T'ang and Sung Were deficient in poetry ; Pity that the magnificent, the pride of heaven, Genghis Khan Could only shoot with bows and arrows. All these were of the past ! For the greatest man yet – only My dynasty, my era will show. Ping Hsin (1902-) [Bing Xin] The old man and the child The old man to the child : 'Weep, Sigh, How dreary the world is !' The child, laughing : 'Excuse me, mister ! I can't imagine what I Haven't experiences.' The child to the old man : 'Smile, Jump, How interesting the world is !' The old man, sighing : 'Forgive me, Child ! I can't bear recalling what I have experienced.' Tsong Kuh-chia = Tsang Ko-chia (1910-) [Zang Kejia] Three generations The child Is bathing in the mud. The father Is seating in the mud. The grandfather Is buried in the mud. D.R.W. [David Rafael Wang] Cool cat For Gary Snyder The rain has soaked the cabin The wind has shaken the mast My mistress's red petticoat is wet And knitted are the eyebrows of my lovely wife I tie the boat to the nearest tree And observe the flowering billows The bamboo blinds are left sagging The broken teacups litter the deck On my way back I feel a sudden calmness : Autumn has invaded the summer I dry my sleeves in a Yoga posture And leave the girls to fret and chatter. |
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Bibliography (30)
| # | Year | Bibliographical Data | Type / Abbreviation | Linked Data |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 1893 | Dehmel, Richard. Chinesisches Trinklied : nach Li-tai-po. In : Moderner Musen-Almanach auf das Jahr 1893. Hrsg. von Otto Julius Bierbaum. [Li Bo]. | Publication / Deh1 |
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| 2 | 1903 | Lieder aus dem Rinnstein. Hrsg. von Hans Ostwald. (Leipzig : Karl Henckell, 1903). [Darin enthalten ist das Gedicht Chinesisches Vagabundenlied von Li Bo]. | Publication / Ost10 | |
| 3 | 1906 | Dehmel, Richard. Die ferne Laute, Der dritte im Bund, Frühlingsrausch : [drei Nachdichtungen von Li-Tai-Pe]. In : Die neue Rundschau ; Jg. 17 (1906). [Li Bo]. | Publication / Deh2 |
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| 4 | 1906 | Dehmel, Richard. Gedichte nach Li-tai-pe. In : Neue Rudschau ; Jg. 17 (1906). [Li Bo]. | Publication / Deh3 | |
| 5 | 1907 | Haussmann, Conrad. Gedichte nach Li-tai-pe. In : März (1907). [Li Bo]. | Publication / HauC1 | |
| 6 | 1908 | Li, Pai [Li, Bo]. 200 selected poems. Transl. by Rewi Alley ; paintings by Pan tzu. (Hong Kong : Joint Publishing Co., 1980). | Publication / Alley30 |
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| 7 | 1911-1912 | Li, Tai-po [Li, Bo]. Chinesische Gedichte. Aus dem Chinesischen übersetzt von Otto Hauser. Bd. 1-2. (Berlin ; Weimar: Alexandre Duncker, 1911-1912). (Aus fremden Gärten ; 7). | Publication / LIBO1 |
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| 8 | 1915 |
Klabund. Li Tai Pe : Nachdichtungen. (Leipzig : Insel-Verlag, 1915). (Insel-Bücherei ; Nr. 201). [Li Bo]. https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/009007722. |
Publication / Klab1 |
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| 9 | 1915 |
Pound, Ezra. Cathay. Translations by Ezra Pound, for the most part from the Chinese of Rihaku [Li Bo], from the notes of the late Ernest Fenollosa, and the decipherings of the professors Mori and Ariga. (London : E. Mathews, 1915). = Pound, Ezra. Lustra. (London : Elkin Mathews, 1916). = Repr. (New York, N.Y. : Haskell House, 1973). [Enthält] : Pound, Ezra. Cathay und Exile's letter]. Pound, Ezra. Exile's letter. In : Poetry : a magazine of verse ; vol. 5, no 6 (1915). http://ia600404.us.archive.org/3/items/cathayezrapound00pounrich/cathayezrapound00pounrich.pdf. |
Publication / Pou15 | |
| 10 | 1919 |
Waley, Arthur. The poet Li Po, A.D. 701-762. (London : East and West, 1919). [Li Bo]. http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43274/43274-h/43274-h.htm. |
Publication / AWal17 |
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| 11 | 1921 | Li, Taï-pé [Li Bo]. Quarante poésies de Li Taï-pé. Texte, traduction et commentaires par Bruno Belpaire. (Paris : Impr. nationale, 1921). | Publication / BelB1 | |
| 12 | 1922 | Li, Po [Li, Bo]. The works of Li Po, the Chinese poet. Done into English verse by Shigeyoshi Obata ; with an introd. and biographical and critical matter transl. from the Chinese. (New York, N.Y. : E.P. Dutton, 1922). | Publication / Schie4 |
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| 13 | 1926-1932 | Lit'aipo [Li, Bo]. Poetische Werke. Übersetzt von Erwin von Zach. Buch I-X in : Asia major ; vol. 3-5 (1926-1930) ; Buch XI-XV in : De chineesche Revue ; vol. 2-3 (1928-1929) ; Buch XVI-XXX in : Deutsche Wacht ; vol. 16-18 (1930-1932). | Publication / ZEV17 | |
| 14 | 1940 | Li, Po [Li, Bo]. Poesie. A cura di Ludovico Nicola di Giura. (Lanciano : Carabba, 1940). | Publication / Giura2 | |
| 15 | 1946 | Li, Tai-pe [Li, Bo]. Der Pavillon aus Porzellan : Li-Tai-pe's Spiegelgedicht in zwölffacher Abwandlung. [Übers. von] Carl Albert Lange. (Wedel : Alster-Verlag, 1946). | Publication / LanC1 | |
| 16 | 1947 | Beckerath, Erich von. Balladen um Li Tai-pe. (Lorch-Württemberg : Bürger-Verlag, 1947). [Li Bo]. | Publication / BeckE1 | |
| 17 | 1948 | [Li Bo]. Gedichte nach den unsterblichen des Ti-Tai-po. Von Hans Schiebelhuth. (Darmstadt : Dramstädter Verlag, 1948). | Publication / Schie1 |
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| 18 | 1956 | Li, Po [Li, Bo]. I grandi poeti cinesi : Li Po. [Transl. by Maria Attardo Magrini and G. Chen-Sing Wang]. (Milano : Istituto Culturale Italo-Cinese, 1956). (Biblioteca sinica). | Publication / LiBo5 | |
| 19 | 1958 | Li, Tai-bo [Li, Bo]. Rausch und Unsterblichkeit. Ausgewählt aus den Werken des Dichters mit einer Einleitung versehen von Günther Debon. (München : K. Desch, 1958). (Im Banne des Dionysos). | Publication / Li, -Debo1 |
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| 20 | 1962 | Li, Tai-bo [Li, Bo]. Gedichte : eine Auswahl. Übersetzung, Einleitung und Anmerkungen von Günther Debon. (Stuttgart : P. Reclam, 1962). | Publication / Li, -Debo2 |
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| 21 | 1977 | Li, Bo. [Li, Bo]. Mesic nad prusmykem. [Übers. von] Marta Rysava. (Paris : Odeon, 1977). (Verse). | Publication / Rys3 | |
| 22 | 1979 | Li, Tai-po.[Li, Bo]. [Gedichte]. Ausgewählt und übertragen von Ernst Schwarz. (Berlin : Verlag Neues Leben, 1979). (Poesiealbum ; 138). | Publication / SCHER19 | |
| 23 | 1984 | Zingend roei ik huiswaarts op de maan : gedichten van Meng Haoran, Wang Wei, Li Taibai, Du Fu en Bai Juyi. Uit het chinees vertaald door W[ilt] L. Idema. (Amsterdam : De Arbeiderspers, 1984). | Publication / Ide15 | |
| 24 | 1984 | Li, Bai. Poems. Translations by Elling Eide. (Lexington, Ky. : Anvil Press, 1984). [Enthält] : Tunes from the T'ang. Transcribed and arranged by Laurence Picken. [Li Bo]. | Publication / Pick9 |
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| 25 | 1987 | Li, Po [Li, Bo] ; Tu, Fu [Du, Fu]. Bright moon, perching bird : poems. Transl. from the Chinese by J.P. Seaton and James Cryer ; calligraphy by Mo Ji-yu ; portraits and title page by Huang Yong-hou. (Middletown, Conn. : Wesleyan University Press, 1987). (Wesleyan poetry in translation). | Publication / Sea12 | |
| 26 | 1988 | Li, Po ; Tu, Fu [Li, Bo ; Du, Fu]. Coppe di giada. A cura di Vilma Costantini. (Milano : Editori associati, 1988). (I tascabili degli Editori associati ; 7). | Publication / LiBo3 | |
| 27 | 1994 | Li, Bai [Li, Bo] ; Du, Fu. Lune di giada : poesie cinesi. A cura di Carlo D'Alessio ; trad. da Arturo Onofri. (Roma : Salerno, 1994). (Omikron ; 50). | Publication / LiBo4 | |
| 28 | 1996 | Li, Po [Li, Bo]. The selected poems of Li Po. Transl. by David Hinton. (New York, N.Y. : New Directions, 1996). | Publication / Hint9 | |
| 29 | 1999 |
Li, Bai [Li, Bo]. Han Ying dui zhao hui tu ben Li Bai shi xuan = Selected poems by Li Bai. Yang Xianyi, Dai Naidie [Gladys Yang] yi ; Li Shiji hui. (Beijing : Zhongguo wen xue chu ban she, 1999). (Ling long shi hua). 汉英对照绘图本李白诗选 |
Publication / Yan44 | |
| 30 | 2000-2005 | Li, T'ai-po [Li, Bo]. Gesammelte Gedichte. Übers. von Erwin Ritter von Zach ; hrsg. von Hartmut Walravens. Teil 1-2. (Wiesbaden : Harrassowitz, 2000-2005). (Asien- und Afrika-Studien der Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin ; Bd. 5 ; Bd. 19). Bd. 2 : Die Bücher XVI bis XXV und XXX der chinesischen Gesamtausgabe. In deutscher Fassung, ursprünglich erschienen in Die deutsche Wacht, Batavia. Hrsg. von Harmut Walravens, Lutz Bieg. | Publication / Wal10 |
Secondary Literature (6)
| # | Year | Bibliographical Data | Type / Abbreviation | Linked Data |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 1894 | Dehmel, Richard. In stiller Nacht. In : Hart, Julius. Hausschatz des Wissens ; Abt. 10. Geschichte der Weltliteratur und des Theaters aller Zeiten und Völker. Bd. 1. (Neudamm : J. Neumann, 1894). [Nachdichtung eines Gedichtes von Li Bo]. | Publication / Deh4 | |
| 2 | 1898-1899 | Holz, Arno. Phantasus. Bd. 1-2. (Berlin : Sassenbach, 1898-1899). = Holz, Arno. Phantasus. [Erw. Aufl.]. (Leipzig : Insel-Verlag, 1916). Darin enthalten ist das Gedicht über Li-tai-pe [Li Bo]. | Publication / HolzA1 |
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| 3 | 1950 | Waley, Arthur. The poetry and career of Li Po, 701-762 A.D. (London : G. Allen & Unwin, 1950). [Li Bo]. | Publication / AWal24 |
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| 4 | 1974 | Benary-Isbert, Margot. Das ewige Siegel : eine Legende um den Dichter Li Tai Pe. (Frankfurt a.M. : Knecht, 1974). [Li Bo]. | Publication / Bena1 | |
| 5 | 2002 | Kroll, Paul W. Dharma bell and dhâranî pillar : Li Po's buddhist inscriptions. (Kyoto : Italien School of East Asian Studies, 2002). (Epigraphical series). [Li Bo]. | Publication / Kro6 | |
| 6 | 2009 | Kroll, Paul W. Studies in medieval taoism and the poetry of Li Po. (Franham : Variorum : 2009). (Variorum collected studies series ; no. 931). [Li Bo]. | Publication / Kro4 |