All entries for Sunday 30 July 2006

Sea/flower/Spring

I don't know if I should start writing with English or Chinese. I wanted to use Chinese, for the simple reason that the poem concerned here is in Chinese; but I can not use Chinese, for the ideas that I have in mind seems unspeakable in Chinese.

The limit of my language is the limit of my world. I believe in Wittgenstein.

But this sort of Sapir–Whorf hypothesis does not with poet. The poet is ''priest, prophet and legislator for mankind'' . They are the explorers of the boundaries, not the mere observers.

Haizi, my favorite poet, obviously were not bound by his language. He died at the age of 23, and left me the poem that I can never get away with.

I won't even attempt to translate it. It would be horrible if it is translated into English. I can only retell it.

From tomorrow on, I decide to be a happy man.
Feed my horse, chop the firewood, and travel around the world.
Form tomorrow on, I start to care about grain and vegetables.
I have a house,
Which faces the sea, in a warm blooming spring.

from tomorrow on, I will write to all members in my family,
I will tell them my happiness,
And whatever I get from the shock of the happiness,
I decided that I will tell everyone.

Find a warm name for every river, every mountain as well,
And strangers, too, I will pray for you,
I wish you will have a prosperous future,
I wish you will marry the one that you love.
I wish you get all the happiness you deserve in the worldly world.
While for me, I only wish to
Face the sea, in a warm blooming spring.

I loved the poem from the first time I read it. And I felt very sad at the death of the poet. Haizi committed suicide, at the age of 23. Out side the Jiayu gate of the Great Wall, he lied down at the rail, and let the train run over his body.

I believe poets are born to be more sensitive than other common human beings. When I said this is my dream in high school, friends laughed at me because they believe the only way to be happy is to earn money and get rich, rather than to daydreame about the sea, the house, the flower and the spring.

I gave up that "house by the sea in a blooming spring" dream years ago. Where is that house, the one that is by the sea, in the blooming warm spring? I no longer bother to think about it. it does not exist anyway. It is the poet's imagination; it is the poet's fantasy. Plus he is already dead. That dream died with him I guess. I forgot Haizi for years, and I forgot his death as well. I never really understand why a promising young lecturer in the most famous Chinese university will ruin himself like that. I always believe that he would have earned enough money for that house if he just waited a few more years.

I thought I grow up. There are so many things that we have to worry about in our lives, and that sea side house just does not exist. It is more practical to keep oneself busy with earning money and raising kids, rather than fantasizing things that do not exist.

And it is on this strange summer afternoon, that I sat on the beach in the Belgara park, that I suddenly remembered this poem, and wrote these silly lines for myself, in case the busy and fussy life will erase the last trace of this fine memeory.

Xiu Wang : 30 Jul 2006 08:13 |  Tags: Thoughts |  Comments (1) |  Close comments |  Report a problem