Tag Archives: Translated Literature

BOOKS: “Ali and Nino” by Kurban Said

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Ali and Nino: A Love StoryAli and Nino: A Love Story by Kurban Said
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

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I read this book as travel literature for a trip to Azerbaijan and was pleased that it both met my needs as travel literature (i.e. offering insight into the local culture(s),) and it turned out to be an engrossing story, as well. You may have caught that “turned out to be.” It’s true that the first one-third to half of the book is a slow-burn on the story front. Through those early chapters, the book is the character-driven, plotless novel one frequently sees among literary fiction. Don’t get me wrong, it is still interestingly written and engaging (if you’re a literary fiction reader,) and it definitely met my needs for travel literature. But just as I’d resigned myself to this character-driven literary fiction formulation, it shifted into being a compelling and even action-packed story.

This is a tale of star-crossed lovers but set in the Caucuses in the WWI era (i.e. the time of the Armenian Genocide, when the Ottoman Empire was in its violent death throes.) Unlike Romeo and Juliet, in which the lovers came from feuding clans that were culturally quite similar, cultural divergence is the crux of the matter for Ali and Nino. While the families of the two kids get along fine enough, Nino is from an aristocratic Georgian family of progressive Western (and Christian) proclivities. The protagonist, Ali, is also from an upper-crust family, but they are of a much more conservative Muslim bent. While Ali, himself, is an educated and moderate personality and somewhat of a bridge between the old world Persian mindset of his family and the liberal European one in which he was educated, he has friends and family that it would not be unfair to call fanatics. So, while the families bless the union, it is ill-fated because the worldviews of Ali and Nino make it so there is no place they can both be happy living, except a Baku that is being contested by the Ottoman Empire and a Russia in the midst of its own transmutation. In Persia, Nino is a soulless possession who is not allowed to interact with anyone but Ali, eunuch and female servants, and her own family when they visit. On the other hand, Ali can’t bear to go to Europe or America, where he’d be so far out of his element. So, they are stuck with a Baku besieged by multiple entities.

The writer made a couple of unconventional but clever choices that I found to be brilliant. I’d highly recommend this book for readers of literary fiction and / or historical fiction.

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Five Seasonal Poems of Miura Chora [w/ Audio]

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NEW YEAR

New Year's Day:
 the ancient voice of a
  nightingale.

SPRING

idyllic nights
 and quiet days:
  spring rains.

SUMMER

cold water, and
 a couple of rice cakes:
  it's summertime.

AUTUMN

morning glories
 are tousled by 
  Autumn winds.

WINTER

lingering wind
 and snow fall
  upon me.

“Concentrated” [Poetry Style #4] by Sikong Tu [w/ Audio]

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Evergreen woods and a rough-hewn shack.
 The sun sets through clear sky.
 I shed my hat as I walk alone,
   Listening for songbirds.
 No wild geese are flying
   From whence my beloved lives.
 But in my mind, we are close --
   Close enough to touch.
 Dark clouds stand over the sea,
   But in moonlight river isles gleam.
 My eyes and my words stop at
   That great river that sprawls ahead.

NOTE: The late Tang Dynasty poet, Sikong Tu (a.k.a. Ssŭ-k‘ung T‘u,) wrote an ars poetica entitled Twenty-Four Styles of Poetry. It presents twenty-four poems that are each in a different tone, reflecting varied concepts from Taoist philosophy and aesthetics. Above is a translation of the fourth of the twenty-four poems.

“Fortuneteller’s Song” by Liu Yong [w/ Audio]

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The maples have grown old;
 Orchards have begun to wither.
 The reds and greens have faded.
 Climbing the heights, I
   Feel the chill of late Autumn.
 A ceaseless pounding sound
   Drowns out the setting sun.
 Remembered sorrows flock 
   To mind, making new sorrows.
 We are separated 
    By a thousand miles;
 From our two distant places
   We can't even meet in dreams.
 The rain stops, and the sky clears;
   One can see the twelve green peaks.
 Speechless, who could understand
   My angst, as I stand cliffside.
 I can write of my grief, but
   Will the clouds bring a reply?

“Butterflies in Love with Flowers” by Zhu Shuzhen [w/ Audio]

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Thousands of willow twigs beyond my bower sway;
   They try to retain spring, but she won't stay
      For long and goes away.
 In vernal breeze the willow down still wafts with grace;
   It tries to follow spring to find her dwelling place.
 Hills and rills greened all over, I hear cuckoos sing;
   Feeling no grief, why should they give me a sharp sting?
 With wine cup in hand, I ask spring who won't reply.
   When evening grizzles,
      A cold rain drizzles.

Translation: Xu Yuanchong [translator]. 2021. Deep, Deep the Courtyard. [庭院深深.] Cite Publishing: Kuala Lumpur, pp. 146-147.

“Reply to Caishu’s ‘Ancient Temple by a River'” by Mei Yaochen [w/ Audio]

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Old trees with tangled hanging tassels
   by a deserted temple open to the river.
 Rain, rain threw down the clay statues
   and wind blew down this ancient building.
 Wild birds nest in dusty shrines,
   fishermen hold a bamboo lottery cup.
 About to play the tune "Mountain Ghost," I stop:
   the Verses of Chu make me too sad.

Translation: Barnstone, Tony and Ping, Chou. 2005. The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry: From Ancient to Contemporary. New York: Anchor Books.

“Walking to Guanghua Temple by Moonlight” by Ouyang Xiu [w/ Audio]

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Sound of water cascading over rock.
   A silent mountain in the night.
 Bright moonlight washes over the pines.
   One thousand peaks, all in one color.

“Drunk in the Fairyland” by Huang Tingjian [w/ Audio]

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In the face of heavy morning cloud again
   And drizzling evening rain,
 Leaning on each other, rugged the hills remain.

The Gorge of Witch and lofty peaks
   Lock in the Southern Palace rosy cheeks.

In spring the halberds move in force,
   Maids in fair dress welcome heroes on horse,
 To the riverside town they go only.

I come to the wasteland a thousand miles away,
   With my shadow so lonely.

How can I become cheerful and gay?

It is said the Southern land is so high,
   It nearly scrapes the sky.
 To the capital I stretch my eye,
   I see but misty water far and nigh.

When I drank in the hall,
   My friends were talents all.

Songstresses sang with rosy face
   And dancers danced with grace,
 Drunk, they intoxicated the place. 

Hearing the cuckoo's home-going song
   All the night long, 
 Could I resist my yearning strong?

Translation: Xu Yuanchong [translator]. 2021. Deep, Deep the Courtyard. [庭院深深.] Cite Publishing: Kuala Lumpur, pp. 191-192.

BOOKS: “One Hundred Poems of Kabir (1915)” Translated by Rabindranath Tagore

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One Hundred Poems of KabirOne Hundred Poems of Kabir by Kabir
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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Kabir was a fifteenth century Indian poet and mystic. This collection was translated by the Bengali Indian Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore, and Tagore’s stylistic imprint is felt in these poems. The poems are overwhelmingly of a mystic / spiritual nature. Kabir was non-sectarian but extremely oriented towards mystic belief. He references the Koran and Vedas alike, but is more likely to communicate in secular, if mystical, terms.

How much the godly emphasis works for the reader will vary greatly. For me it was a bit excessive, often reading more like prayers than poems, but your results may vary.

The only thing I found actually disturbing was the repeated romanticization of sati, a practice in use during Kabir’s lifetime in which widows would be burned alive on their husband’s funeral pyre. Kabir repeatedly writes of sati as if it was always a completely voluntary act of raw passion and connection and was never motivated by being old and destitute (not to mention being societally pressured or, even, physically forced into it.)

The poems are well composed and engaging, and if you can get past the periodic sati propaganda, it’s a pleasant, almost euphoric, read.

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“There Is a Bird in the Tree” by Kabir [w/ Audio]

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On this tree is a bird:
   It dances in the joy of life.
 No one knows where it is:
   And who knows what the burden
     Of its music may be?
 Where the branches throw a deep shade,
   There does it have its nest:
     And it comes in the evening 
     And flies away in the morning,
     And says not a word 
       Of that which it means.
 None tell me of this bird 
     That sings within me.
   It is neither coloured nor colourless:
   It has neither form nor outline:
   It sits in the shadow of love.
   It dwells within the Unattainable,
     The Infinite, and the Eternal;
       And no one marks 
         When it comes and goes.
 Kabir says, “O brother Sadhu! 
   Deep is the mystery. 
   Let wise men seek to know 
     where rests that bird.”

NOTE: This is the translation by Rabindranath Tagore from the 1915 text, One Hundred Poems of Kabir. This is poem #30 (XXX) of that volume.