Translating The Story of Ch'ang-Kan

Another exercise intended to help us break free from the confines of traditional writing was to translate a poem from the original Chinese.Already translated many times before,  The Story of Ch'ang-Kan or The River Merchant's Wife was a study in frustration.

Thankfully, the professor, Valzhyna Mort Cortese, was not a sadist; she gave us the literal translation of each symbol. It was up to us to make sense of the mostly-nonsensical way the words were written in the original poem. I am quite happy with how my iteration turned out.

The Story of Ch'ang-Kan

My hair scarcely covered my forehead
when I played, plucking flowers by the front gate.
You came on your bamboo horse,
circling the garden to play among the green plums.

Together in Ch'ang Kan village,
too young to know hate or suspicion.

At fourteen, I became your wife.
Ever bashful, I lowered my head in darkness to face the wall.
You called one thousand times,
but I could not turn back even once.

At fifteen, my the furrows of my brow vanished,
and I wished us ever together as dust with ash,
often thinking of your embrace, unwavering.

How do I now ascend the widow’s walk?

At sixteen, you left on your voyage,
travelling beyond the Keu-Tang Gorge,
where the boulders heap up the swift river,
and the fifth month brings unpassable rapids.

Why now do the heavens cry out like the sorrows of apes?

The footprints you left—they are covered in moss…
moss so deep, I cannot sweep them away.

The autumn winds bring their falling leaves.
The butterflies of the eighth month arrive
from the west in pairs, to play in the garden.

My heart aches at seeing them…
I sit alone, sorrowful,
for, the vermilion in my face is fading.
Even now, I look for your letter to tell me
you are returning from the three gorges.

But, I look forward to when we meet again,
far away from the garden,
all the way to Long Wind Sand.