The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry ed. Tony Barnstone & Chou Ping

The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry: From Ancient to Contemporary, The Full 3000-Year TraditionThe Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry: From Ancient to Contemporary, The Full 3000-Year Tradition by Tony Barnstone
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

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This poetry translation anthology presents examples from some of the earliest known Chinese poetry to authors who are still alive and composing. It’s arranged by dynastic period (up until the modern era,) and, within dynasties, by poet. Most of the poets merit only a poem or two, but some of the major poets are allotted many pages of poems. Of course, how much poetry per poet is included isn’t just a function of how prolific or popular the poet was, but also how much extant poetry remains — i.e. how much survived. Each dynastic section begins with an overview of the time and poetic trends, and there is bio blurb for each poet.

There is quite a bit of variation in the book beyond that of the changing nature of Chinese poetry. The translations are also by varied translators, including not only the book’s editors but also individuals from the past, such as Arthur Waley. I wouldn’t say there is any bad translation in the book, but some translators capture the feel, e.g. the relative sparseness, of Chinese better, and others show their English poetic educations more obviously.

All in all, I enjoyed this selection of poems immensely, and learned a lot about Chinese history as well as of the country’s changing poetic tradition. I gained new insight to some of my favorites (e.g. Li Bai, Han Shan, etc.) and gained new favorites I’d never heard of before. I’d highly recommend this book for readers of poetry in translation.

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PROMPT: Time

Do you need time?

I believe I prefer the order of a sequenced life rather than a life of “everything, everywhere, all at once.” But having never ventured off my worldline, I don’t have sound basis for comparison. If you know of how I could experience atemporal existence, I would be happy to give it a try and get back with you.

Water Swap [Haiku]

the falls are thin.
 the rains are hard. soon,
  fortunes will reverse. 

PROMPT: Favorite Subject

What was your favorite subject in school?

Depends on the year. In twelfth grade, I remember enjoying Physics the most. In Eleventh, Psychology was the best class I attended. There was a year when I got the most out of an English class that focused on Creative Writing. I guess my most longstanding preference was for classes like Geography and Social Studies, wherein we learned about the world outside our world.

Rain Song Tempo [Common Meter]

I hear the rains accelerate
   From the lightest sprinkle.
 Soon the streets are aflood; mere sound 
   Makes my fingers wrinkle.

The rain continues to ratchet
   Up: faster & faster.
 'Til it's maxed out at a speed that
   Spells certain disaster.

How can it keep up this dire pace?
   What sponge this cloud must be
 To hold on high, up in the sky,
   The contents of a Sea.

But, in time, the downshift begins
  Towards just drips & drops.
 No matter how boisterous the band,
   The song, it always stops.

DAILY PHOTO: Beijing West Rail Station on a Rainy Day

Image

The Daffodils by William Wordsworth [w/ Audio]

Source: Wikipedia [Pub Dom Image]
I wandered lonely as a cloud
   That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
 When all at once I saw a crowd,
   A host, of golden daffodils;
 Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
   Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
   And twinkle on the milky way,
 They stretched in never-ending line
   Along the margin of a bay:
 Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
   Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
   Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
 A poet could not but be gay,
   In such a jocund company:
 I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
   What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
   In vacant or in pensive mood,
 They flash upon that inward eye
   Which is the bliss of solitude;
 And then my heart with pleasure fills,
   And dances with the daffodils.

PROMPT: Three Years

What will your life be like in three years?

Who can say? I could be dead. I could be one of the last humans alive after the next pandemic or a nuclear Holocaust or a solar flare that sends humanity back to the Stone Age, or some combination of these and / or other disasters. I could be sitting where I currently sit, doing what I’m currently doing.

I’m no fortune-teller. (If there’s one thing my time as a social scientist taught me, it’s that people think they are much better at making predictions than they are.)

Green Fairy [Free Verse]

Bohemians
   gathered around 
   the absinthe bottles,
  the light hitting 
   the bottles shone
   a radioactive shade
   of green.

That green light
   threw blotches
  against walls &
 floors & people &
  anything else there
  was to illuminate.

The more they drank,
 the less green the mottling --
  not because the empty glass 
   was clear, &
 didn't refract, or spray green,
   but because the splotches
  turned every color --
   every color there is --
  and the colors danced
   around the increasingly 
  amorphous surfaces.

 Until, at last,
  everyone was asleep,
 and visions of Green Fairies
  danced in their dreams. 

Autumn Rust [Haiku]

the year shows its age,
 a coating of rust flushes
  the hilltops.