[two_third]
Hey guys. Been a while. I'm studying Chinese IRL, so I've got less reason to focus on the blog, but I have been getting all the letters - thank you all. I've also received two guest posts that I'm embarassed to say I haven't put up yet. Apologies, it may be a while, but they're coming. Right, on with the poetry. 

Kinda kills me how little information is available on the modern Chinese authors, you know? A few of the most famous works have been translated. Dai Wangshu, for example, is relatively unknown in the west. So who is this guy? Dai Wangshu was a famously-depressed modern Chinese symbolist poet, born in 1905, died from an accidental overdose of asthma medication in 1950 - asthsma which he contracted when he was thrown in jail Seriously, this guy spent his entire life having the sadz. He threatened to kill himself a couple of times, once to force his girlfriend to marry him (she agreed, but then ran off with a refrigerator salesman), and once when his wife fell in love with another man and asked for a divorce. 

雨巷, Dai Wangshu's representative work was written in 1927 when he was 22. He'd just broken it off with a long-time lover, and was spending much of his time in seclusion at a friend's house. This was also written soon after the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shanghai_massacre_of_1927" target="_blank">April 12 Incident</a>, during which the KMT (Guomindang) slaughtered a bunch of Communists in Shanghai, where Dai Wangshu was living, so we're talking a period of political uncertainty and upheaval. 

Like most of Dai Wangshu's work, 雨巷 is wistful, lovely and sad, and also a bit misty and dreamlike. It describes a single scene in which a woman, dressed in purple and holding an oil paper umbrella, passes the author in a silent rainy alley. You'll see the word 丁香 appear frequently. The language is difficult at first, but then get repetitive, as he uses the same words again and again in different configurations, until in the last stanza, . 

I don't love the <a href="http://www.zg-wh.com/2014/03/a-lane-in-rain-poem-by-dai-wangshu.html" target="_blank">translation that's available</a> for this, which I'm using here, and may do my own at some point - I think this piece loses its beauty in the English version. If you read the poem out loud in Chinese, you'll notice it's got a lovely cadence, so give it a whirl if you can. 

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<div class="postintro">
<h4>Click to Listen</h4>
彷徨 - [pinyin]fei1 fan2[/pinyin] - Extraordinarily
寂寥 - [pinyin]wu3 chi2[/pinyin] - Dance floor
丁香 - [pinyin]qi4 fen4[/pinyin] - Angry
愁怨
芬芳 - [pinyin]dui4 dai4[/pinyin] - To treat someone (a certain way)
哀怨 - [pinyin]can4 lan4[/pinyin] - Brilliant (smile, light)
彳亍
凄清
太息
凄婉
颓圮
哀曲
</div>
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<hr />

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<div id="chinesetext">
撑着油纸伞，独自
<strong>彷徨</strong>在悠长，悠长
又<strong>寂寥</strong>的雨巷，
我希望逢着
一个<strong>丁香</strong>一样的
结着<strong>愁怨</strong>的姑娘。

她是有
丁香一样的颜色，
丁香一样的<strong>芬芳</strong>，
丁香一样的忧愁，
在雨中<strong>哀怨</strong>，
哀怨又彷徨；

她彷徨在这寂寥的雨巷，
撑着油纸伞
像我一样，
像我一样地
默默<strong>彳亍</strong>着，
冷漠，<strong>凄清</strong>，又惆怅。

她静默地走近
走近，又投出
<strong>太息</strong>③一般的眼光，
她飘过
像梦一般的，
像梦一般的<strong>凄婉</strong>迷茫。

像梦中飘过
一枝丁香的，
我身旁飘过这女郎；
她静默地远了，远了，
到了<strong>颓圮</strong>的篱墙，
走尽这雨巷。

在雨的<strong>哀曲</strong>里，
消了她的颜色，
散了她的芬芳
消散了，甚至她的
太息般的眼光，
丁香般的惆怅。

撑着油纸伞，独自
彷徨在悠长，悠长
又寂寥的雨巷，
我希望飘过
一个<strong>丁香</strong>一样的
结着愁怨的姑娘。
 
</div>
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[one_half last=last][hide-this-part morelink="SHOW ENGLISH TRANSLATION"]
Alone holding an oil-paper umbrella, 
I wander along a long 
Solitary lane in the rain, 
Hoping to encounter 
A girl like a bouquet of lilacs 
Gnawed by anxiety and resentment.

A girl 
The colour of lilacs,
The fragrance of lilacs, 
With the worries of lilacs,
Feeling melancholy in the rain,
Plaintive and hesitating.

She wanders along the solitary lane in the rain,
Holding an oil-paper umbrella
Just as I do,
Just like me,
Walking slowly in silence,
Aloof, sad and melancholy.

Silently she comes closer,
Closer, giving me 
A glance like a sigh; 
Then she floats past 
Like a dream, 
Dreary and blank like a dream.

Like a lilac
Floating past in a dream, 
the girl floats past me; 
Silently she goes further and further, 
To the crumbling wall, 
Out of the lane in the rain.

In the mournful melody of the rain, 
Her colour has faded, 
Her fragrance has disappeared, 
Vanished into the void; 
Even her glance like a sigh, 
Melancholy like lilacs.

Alone holding an oil-paper umbrella, 
I wander along a long 
Solitary lane in the rain, 
Hoping to pass 
A girl like a bouquet of lilacs 
Gnawed by anxiety and resentment.
[/hide-this-part][/one_half]