Where I've Thrown in the Towel

The Late Poems of Wang An-Shih by Wang An-Shih
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I like Wang An-shih.

I just can't enjoy this translation. This is the fifth book I've read by this translator, and I never like his style. The second and third books I read of his were sort of accidents--I didn't notice when I ordered them who did the translations. The last two--this and one other--I was trying to work my way through my issues with the way he put Chinese poetry into English. I've really failed.

That's a lot of attempts. Either I'm an idiot or a remarkably good sport, because I should have learned well before this. To be fair to me, I've tried other things I didn't like way more times than this. (Beer. I'm talking about beer. I want to like it but I just don't. Other people like it a lot and I think I should too. Did I enjoy the last glass of beer I had? No. Not at all. Will I try beer again someday? Almost certainly. Will I learn anything? Probably not.)

Here are two poems and translations that I liked a lot.

Gazing North

Hair whiter still, I ache to see those long-ago northlands,
but keep to this refuge: goosefoot staff, windblown trees.

Pity the new moon: all that bright beauty, and for whom?
It's dusk. Countless mountains face each other in sorrow.

------------------------------------

Written on a Wall at Half-Mountain Monastery

When I wander, heaven starts raining,
and when I stop, rain sets out for home.

How could rain be my own wandering?
Meeting here was that carefree and easy.

Tone; style; content; mood. I love it.

Here's one that doesn't work for me.

Anchored on Abandon River

Creaking oars quicken. River sun
sinks into azure distances. There's

stillness in my wandering. Tides
drift east and west, day and night.

If you prefer that latter, or if the difference tripping me up isn't immediately obvious and off-putting, you'll love the collection. Unironically. Go for it.

Mine tastes like beer.

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