On Translating Two Song Dynasty Poems

For many years, Song Dynasty ci poetry has been overshadowed by Tang Dynasty shi poetry in the English-speaking world. These two poems are ci, literally meaning “lyrics.” The most salient formal trait of ci—and one of the things that distinguishes it from shi poetry—is its uneven line length, with more flexible placements of rhymes (ci is also called 长短句, literally long-and-short sentences). The fluidity and irregular movement within the lines not only made ci a better vessel for the expression of tortuous and lasting emotions, but also made it congruous with musical phrases and melodies. In the Song Dynasty, these ci poems functioned primarily as banquet entertainment, performed by hired singers and accompanied by musical instruments.

There’s a semblance of liberty in the irregular lines of ci poems, but the form is actually stricter than that of Shi poetry. The irregularity of the lines is not arbitrary; it follows an unyielding matrix containing a set number of lines, syllables, rhyme schemes, tempo, and tone patterns whose intonations must match certain melodic scales. The process is so exacting and mechanical that during the Song dynasty, one did not speak of “writing” ci, but of 填词 “filling in” ci, that is, filling in lyrics to a known melody or formal pattern. Ironically, the complete subjugation of the language created an illusion of freedom.

To translate an ancient language—one that feels estranged, unfamiliar, and even a bit sentimental—into English has always been a challenge. To capture the essence, I experiment with restructuring the original text and sometimes even rewriting passages entirely. I see translation as an attempt to shatter the original and reassemble its fragments into a third entity—an exile, neither fully embodying the original's beauty nor completely at home in its new linguistic habitat. The translations, therefore, are like space debris floating aimlessly between the native and the foreign. There’s a detachment in such floating movement and a freedom in such aimlessness. Consequently, translations, by their malleable nature, are always ready to be reshaped, rearranged, changed, and renewed. Nothing is definite.