Wang Wei vuelve a casa

仄徑蔭宮槐， 幽陰多綠苔。 應門但迎掃， 畏有山僧來。 zè jìng yīn gōng huái yōu yīn duō lǜ tái yīng mén dàn yíng sǎo wèi yǒu shān sēng lái sendero de montaña a la sombra de las sóforas oculto y húmedo y cubierto de musgo verde hay que barrer delante de la valla quizá venga un huésped el anciano de las montañas tal vez venga hoy

Durante cuatro años las sóforas han crecido a lo largo del río Wang, y el camino se ha ido alargando a su sombra. El juego poético que iniciaron hace doce siglos Wang Wei y Pei Di lo hemos seguido nosotros, al principio en inglés, español y húngaro y luego, cuando los temas y nuestros compañeros de viaje así lo requerían, también en italiano, ruso, catalán, azerí y turco, sin contar los otros idiomas de las citas u ocasionalmente traducidos. Pero si el viejo de las montañas, el propio Wang Wei, llegara hasta nosotros, solo a partir de hoy podría entrar en la conversación. El sendero que conduce hasta la valla lo ha barrido a conciencia Minus273 inaugurando ahora la versión china de Río Wang. Así lo cuenta en la entrada de bienvenida del nuevo blog 辋川诗抄 Wăngchuān shīchāo, “Poems of Wang river”: *

«Fue en el blog de Language Hat donde oí hablar por primera vez de «Poemas de Río Wang» - 辋 川 诗 抄 - el blog escrito por Studiolum y sus amigos, y cuanto más lo he ido leyendo, más cariño le he tomado. Al final decidí empezar a traducirlo, por puro placer, para elaborar poco a poco una versión china de estas páginas al otro lado de la Gran Muralla Cortafuegos. También me puse a pensar en por qué me gusta tanto este blog, hasta el punto de dedicarle el tiempo de traducirlo y desear mostrárselo a todo el mundo. En esta modesta presentación de la traducción, por tanto, quiero exponerles mis razones.

Probablemente uno de los motivos es que este blog atestigua una y otra vez el amor a la vida y a la belleza. No se puede añadir mucho a esto, basta con observar la aguda mirada que hay detrás de la elección de cada imagen y leer las historias fascinantes y emocionantes, para sentir lo mismo que siento yo. Otra cosa que me ha tocado es su cosmopolitismo erudito.

Poemas de Río Wang no es sólo un blog cosmopolita, sino, exagerando un poco, el cosmopolitismo en persona. Vagar por todo el mundo, por cualquier medio, a pie o en mouseback, para descubrir, para comprender, para disolver las fronteras entre un «ellos» y un «nosotros», a la búsqueda de las raíces comunes a los lugares distantes y a nosotros mismos —este impulso es una característica fascinante del río Wang. Y estimo particularmente rara la sensibilidad y la complejidad con la que en los Poemas del Río Wang se habla de la historia, de una forma que delata a las personas realmente libres: perdonar, pero no olvidar. Basta con echar un vistazo a cualquier entrada e inmediatamente se comprueba que nunca Studiolum y sus amigos niegan la belleza de la historia a la vista del horror de la historia, ni usan tampoco la belleza de la historia para disimular su fealdad. Examinan las injusticias del pasado no con odio, pero tampoco cediendo los principios básicos de la humanidad en favor de una elusión hipócrita de los conflictos. Y si usted es como yo, una persona que busca su camino entre la oscuridad de ideas en contraste y las interpretaciones de la historia, entonces río Wang le permitirá atisbar y seguir una dirección en el flujo y en el remolino de los pensamientos.

El Internet chino, al igual que el de cualquier otro idioma del mundo, todavía está lleno de ignorancia deliberada y de prejuicios, no necesariamente malintencionados, hacia el mundo —sin importar si ese mundo es el «nuestro» o el de «los otros»—. Sin embargo, el deseo sincero de entender el mundo real a través del virtual ya ha provocado algunos beneficios en comparación con la nada de hace diez años. Con este consuelo en la mente me dedico a traducir los poemas de Río Wang, para contribuir así, con mi capacidad, a esta primera etapa de la evolución; y también porque estoy convencido de que la información, especialmente si se presenta con amor y belleza, es siempre más que solo información. En todos los rincones de la tierra desconocida, en cada período de la historia remota siempre había alguien con la cara iluminada por una cálida sonrisa. Si el lector al final de esta traducción experimentara esa sonrisa, la cálida sensación de estar en casa, sería el mayor premio para los esfuerzos del traductor.»

Más allá de nuestra profunda gratitud y emoción, es particularmente sorprendente en esta introducción que subraya exactamente aquello que nosotros consideramos como lo más importante en Poemas del río Wang, más importante que su fuerte visualidad, su apertura idiomática, su atención a lugares de difícil acceso o cualquier otra cosa que para el ojo europeo o americano destacaría en una primera ojeada al blog.

Nuestro segundo pensamiento es acerca de la gran responsabilidad que supone el lanzamiento de esta nueva versión. Ya hemos comprobado que cada nuevo idioma implica nuevo público, nuevos criterios y nuevas expectativas, de modo que al escribir sobre el pasado de Mallorca o de Hungría, también tenemos en cuenta cómo va a ser leído en Moscú o en Bakú. Pero ahora, escribir algo que sabemos que será interpretado por casi mil quinientos millones de lectores potenciales del otro lado del globo, dentro de una cultura completamente diferente, no podemos tomarlo a la ligera. Trataremos de estar a la altura de estas circunstancias.

Queremos que el camino sea largo. Lleno de aventura, lleno de conocimiento.

Wang Wei comes home

仄徑蔭宮槐， 幽陰多綠苔。 應門但迎掃， 畏有山僧來。 zè jìng yīn gōng huái yōu yīn duō lǜ tái yīng mén dàn yíng sǎo wèi yǒu shān sēng lái mountain path under the shadow of sophora trees hidden and humid and covered with green moss yet to be swept in front of the gate a guest may come the old man of the mountains will perhaps come today

During four years the sophora trees grew large along the Wang river, and the road runs ever farther under their shadow. The poetic play started twelve centuries ago by Wang Wei and Pei Di was continued by us first in English, Spanish and Hungarian, and later, when the subjects and our fellow travelers wished so, also in Italian, Russian, Catalan, Azeri and Turkish, not to mention the languages quoted and translated. But if the old man of the mountains, Wang Wei himself came to us, he could really participate in the conversation only from today on. The path leading to the gate was swept clean before him by Minus273 by opening today the Chinese language version of Río Wang. He writes about it like this in the welcome post of the new blog 辋川诗抄 Wăngchuān shīchāo, “Poems of Wang river”: *

“It was on Language Hat’s blog that I read for the first time about the “Poems of Wang River” – 辋川诗抄 – blog, written by Studiolum and his friends, and the more I read it, the more I grew fond of it. Finally I decided to start to translate it just out of pleasure, and to gradually build from my translations a Chinese version of the blog behind the Great Fire Wall. And I also began to think about why I love this blog so much to take time to translate it and to want to show it to everyone. In this modest introduction to the translation I want therefore to tell you about my reasons to do so.

Probably one reason is that this blog is able to witness again and again about the love of life and beauty. There is not much to speak about this, it is enough to observe the sharp look behind the choice of each picture and to read the fascinating and moving stories, and you will feel the same way I do. Another thing that touched me is the erudite cosmopolitanism.

The Poems of Wang River is not just a cosmopolitan blog, but, to exaggerate a little bit, the Poems of Wang River is cosmopolitanism itself. Wandering all over the world, all the same whether afoot or on mouseback, to discover, to understand, to dissolve the boundaries between “them” and “us”, to seek for the common sources of the distant places and of ourselves – this impulse is a captivating feature of River Wang. And I find particularly rare the sensitivity and complexity with which the Poems of River Wang deals with history, in the manner of a really free person: by forgiving, but not forgetting. Just take a peek into any entry and you will immediately see how Studiolum and his friends never deny the beauty of history in view of the ugliness of history, neither use they the beauty of history to dissimulate the ugliness of history. They examine the injustices of the past not with hatred, but neither make they concession of the basic principles of humanity for the sake of any hypocritical avoidance of conflicts. And if you are, like me, a person who is seeking for a path in the obscurity of mutually conflicting ideas and interpretations of history, then Wang River allows you to find a direction in the flow and eddies of thoughts and to follow it.

Chinese internet, just like the internet in any other language of the world, is still filled with deliberate ignorance and not-necessarily-malevolent prejudices towards the world – no matter whether in the land of “theirs” or “ours”. But a sincere quest to understand the real world through the virtual one has already brought some gain in comparison with the nothing of ten years ago. With this consolation in mind I dedicate myself to translate the poems of Wang River, thereby contributing to my ability to this initial stage of the evolution, and also because I am convinced that information, especially when presented with love and beauty, is always more than just information. In every corner of the unknown land, in each period of the remote history there was always someone whose face was brightened by a warm smile. If the reader by the end of this translation will experience this smile, the warm of the hearth, it is the supreme crown of the translator’s efforts.”

Beyond our deep gratitude and emotion, it is particularly amazing in this introduction that it highlights exactly what we consider as most important in the Poemas del Río Wang, more important than its strong visuality, its many languages, its focus on inaccessible places or anything else that for a European or American eye would be conspicuous for the first sight on the blog.

Our second thought is how great a responsibility is the launching of such a new version. We have already experienced that every new language means a new audience, new criteria and new expectations, so that when writing about the recent past of Mallorca or Hungary, we also have to take into account how it will be understood in Moscow or in Baku. But to write so that we know, it will be interpreted by almost one and half billion potential readers on the other side of the globe, in a completely different culture, is no laughing matter. We will have to try to live up to the task.

We wish the road to be a long one. Full of adventure, full of discovery.

Wang Wei (699-761)

归辋川作 谷口疏鐘動， 漁樵稍欲稀。 悠然遠山暮， 獨向白云歸。   菱蔓弱難定， 楊花輕易飛。 東皋春草色， 惆悵掩柴扉。 guī wăng chuān zuò gŭ kŏu shū zhōng dòng yú qiáo shāo yù xī yōu rán yuăn shān mù dú xiàng bái yún guī líng mán ruò nán dìng yáng huā qīng yì fēi dōng gāo chūn căo sè chóu chàng yăn chái fēi De vuelta al Río Wang Una campana lejos, al entrar en el valle. Los pescadores y los leñadores se marchan. La tarde cae al fondo, en las montañas. Regreso solo hacia las nubes blancas. Las débiles castañas de agua no arraigan. Leves flores de sauce vuelan solas. Color de primavera brota en el lago del este. Cierro, triste, la valla de madera.

Wang Wei (699-761)

归辋川作 谷口疏鐘動， 漁樵稍欲稀。 悠然遠山暮， 獨向白云歸。   菱蔓弱難定， 楊花輕易飛。 東皋春草色， 惆悵掩柴扉。 guī wăng chuān zuò gŭ kŏu shū zhōng dòng yú qiáo shāo yù xī yōu rán yuăn shān mù dú xiàng bái yún guī líng mán ruò nán dìng yáng huā qīng yì fēi dōng gāo chūn căo sè chóu chàng yăn chái fēi Returning to Río Wang a distant bell on entering the valley less and less fishermen and woodmen evening sets on the far away mountains I return alone to the white clouds fragile water chestnuts cannot take root willow catkins easily fly with the wind color of spring grass on the eastern bank with a heavy heart I close the wooden door

Wang Wei looks out of his studio

Iglesia de San Francisco

Roofs

Town hall bells

Wang Wei (699-761): 書事 輕陰閣小雨 深院晝庸開 坐看蒼苔色 欲上人衣來 shū shì qīng yīn gé xiăo yŭ shēn yuàn zhòu yōng kāi zuò kàn cāng tái sè yù shàng rén yī lái

Studiolum Light cloud. Rain drizzling around the studio. Grew tired. Opening the window to the deep courtyard. Sitting. Watching the green of the moss. It’s getting cold. I should put on some clothes.

Sunrise

Wang Wei mira afuera de su estudio

Iglesia de San Francisco

Tejados

Campanas del Ayuntamiento

Wang Wei (699-761): 書事 輕陰閣小雨 深院晝庸開 坐看蒼苔色 欲上人衣來 shū shì qīng yīn gé xiăo yŭ shēn yuàn zhòu yōng kāi zuò kàn cāng tái sè yù shàng rén yī lái

Studiolum Leve niebla. Llovizna alrededor del estudio. Cansancio. Abrir la ventana al patio profundo. Sentarse. Mirar el verde del musgo. Viene frío. Debería ponerme ropa.

Sale el sol

A sonnet is born

Chen Shu (1660-1736). Shanghai Museum

“I have received so majestic results that I myself was astonished, and it would be a great pity to let it be lost. When you will see it, my dear father, you will also understand it. Now I only can say that I have created a new, different world out of nothing”

– wrote János Bolyai in his letter of November 3, 1823 in Temesvár (Timişoara), in which he announced to his father the discovery of non-Euclidean geometry.

The great Hungarian poet Mihály Babits, when in 1911, shortly after the solemn reburial of the two Bolyais he published in the journal Nyugat his poem Bolyai, choose this last phrase as a motto. And as the Spanish Golden Age glosas expounded the last verse of the introductory copla in a sonnet, so his poem is a virtual commentary to this single phrase. The poem of Babits has contributed to this phrase’s becoming a motto of Transylvanian Hungarian scholarship after 1918.

We have also chosen this poem to introduce our web documentation of János Bolyai’s Appendix, included just some days ago by the UNESCO in the register of the Memory of the World.

The documentation was prepared in three languages: Hungarian, English and Spanish. In the Hungarian version we have quoted the original poem as it was published in the Nyugat. To the English version we had at our disposal the translation of Paul Sohar, made for the occasion when on November 3, 1993 the memorial tablet of János Bolyai was unveiled on the wall of the house in Temesvár where 170 years earlier he wrote his letter. But we wanted to include a translation worthy of the original in the Spanish version, too.

Wang Wei accepted the honorable challenge, and he mastered it in a sovereign manner. His beautiful translation can be read here face to face with the Hungarian original. For a comparison with the English translation, switch over to the English version of the Bolyai site.


Mihály Babits: Bolyai. Wang Wei’s Spanish translation recited by Julia (with a charming porteño accent)

Semmiből egy új, más világot teremtettem................. – Bolyai János levele apjához –................. Isten elménket bezárta a térbe. Szegény elménk e térben rab maradt: a kapzsi villámölyv, a gondolat, gyémántkorlátját még csak el sem érte. Én, boldogolván azt a madarat ki kalitjából legalább kilátott, a semmiből alkottam új világot, mint pókhálóból sző kötélt a rab. Új törvényekkel, túl a szűk egen, új végtelent nyitottam én eszemnek; király gyanánt, túl minden képzeten kirabolván kincsét a képtelennek nevetlek, mint Istennel osztozó, vén Euklides, rab törvényhozó.

He creado un universo nuevo, diferente, partiendo de la nada —Carta de János Bolyai a su padre— Dios cerró en el espacio a nuestra mente y en tal prisión quedó, debilitada. Ávido halcón, el pensamiento horada sus muros de diamante inútilmente. Yo, feliz como un ave que enjaulada ve el sol, o un preso que hila tenazmente con telarañas cuerda consistente, un universo entero de la nada he creado; con nuevo cielo y leyes nuevas, y un infinito no pensado. No hicieron tanto los más grandes reyes. Un tesoro imposible he sonsacado a Dios. —Euclides, te burlamos, ciego, pues tu ley es tu cárcel y no hay ruego.

Wang Wei has taught for long years the poetry of the Spanish Golden Age on the island of the Hesperides, and his translation is also permeated by the images, expressions and music of the poems of the Golden Age. If we did not know what we know, with no doubt we would accept it being published under the name of Diego Hurtado de Mendoza or Francisco de Quevedo. Mihály Babits, the great Classicist, were he still living, would happily translate it into Hungarian.

Gao Qipei (1632-1734). Shanghai Museum

陽關一疊

Painting of Ma Yuan (1160 k-1225), detail

A week ago we uploaded here as a musical accompaniment to our report on the exhibition of Aurel Stein’s archive Silk Road photos in Hong Kong, the Classical Chinese music “Three variations on the Yang Pass” performed by Wu Wenguang on guqin, that deep-voiced Chinese zither which also features in the masterful propaganda film of Zhang Yimou The Hero, with the blind musician playing on it during the first clash in the tea house. As this song was written by Wang Wei (699-761), whose beautiful book of poems gave name to our blog exactly a year ago, therefore we have decided to write in his honor some words on this poem before it would submerge among the other knots measuring the speed of the Wang River.


Wang Wei: 陽關三疊 – Three variations on the Yang Pass – Wu Wenguang, guqin solo

We translate this poem according to the method elaborated by us in the “Casa de la Poesía China”. The original text in traditional Chinese characters is followed by a transcription so that it would let you feel to some extent the music of the original poem. Right now it is not so important, as we have also included the poem as an audio file, but we are not always so lucky to find one. The English equivalents of the single words of the poem are displayed in floating windows to let you perceive the original structures of meaning. And finally we publish a translation as literal as we can. Indeed, the power of Classical Chinese poems is given by the fact that they, with very simple words and images, shape a wide space of associations, just like Classical Chinese paintings that use emptiness as a basic mean for their composition. The rest is entrusted to the reader.

渭城朝雨浥輕塵 客舍青青柳色新 勸君更盡一杯酒 西出陽關無故人。 wèichéng zhāo yŭ yì qīng chén kèshè qīng qīng liŭ sè xīn quàn jūn gèng jìn yī bēi jiŭ xī chū yángguān wú gù rén Wang Wei: 陽關三疊 – Three variations on the Yang Pass En Wei la lluvia de la mañana lava el tenue polvo el verde renueva los sauces de la posada te lo pido, amigo, toma otra copa de vino pasando al oeste de Yang no quedan amistades In Wei the morning rain washes off the light dust green, newly green are the willows at the inn I urge you, my friend, to take another cup of wine to the west of Yang Pass there are no old friends

The Yangguan (“Southern Pass”, as it stood to the south-west of the famous Yumen Pass), built by Emperor Wu (156-87 BC) was the westernmost border pass of the Empire, only seventy kilometers from the caves of Dunhuang at the edge of Taklamakan Desert along the Silk Road where Aurel Stein made his discovery, a thousand and five hundred years after Wang Wei, of several thousands of manuscripts hidden from the nomads in a cave library. From here on the rule of the barbarians began. The expression 西出陽關 xī chū yángguān in the third verse literally means “leaving the Yang Pass for the West”, leaving civilization and everything familiar and entering into the threatening Unknown.

Qin Dahu (1938), a painter of the “patriotic realism” in vogue since early 90’s:
西出陽關 – Leaving the Yang Pass for the West

Another traditional title for this poem is “Farewell to Yuan Er on his Mission to Anxi”. The friend of Wang Wei set off to the barbarian kingdom of Anxi to offer them the alliance of the Chinese against the Huns. This makes meaningful the name of Wei in the poem. The town stood on the bank of the Wei river, at the northernmost point of the central territory under firm control of the Chinese army, some thousand kilometers before the Yang Pass. The territories laying to the north of the river were threatened by the attacks of the barbarians, so the envoys leaving for the west were seen off by their friends only to this point. The Annals of the Han Dynasty for example write this on the legendary campaign of Li Guangli in the time of Wu:

General Li Guangli was going to lead the army to attack the Huns. The Prime Minister saw him off all the way to the Wei Bridge.

This tune has been worked up several times since Wang Wei, and it became a distinguished piece in the repertoire of guqin. It is called “Three variations” because traditionally it is played three times in three different variations. It is also often used today as a farewell song. I, for example, heard it at the airport of Shenzhen as the signal of the loudspeaker when I left for the west, to the Pearl River.


Wang Wei: 陽關三疊 – Three variations on the Yang Pass – Liu Weishan (guzheng), Chen Jiebing (erhu), Zhao Yangqin (yangqin), Min Xiaofen (pipa) (5'28")


Wang Wei: 陽關三疊 – Three variations on the Yang Pass – Yu Hongmei, erhu (accompanied on guqin) (5'04")


Wang Wei: 陽關三疊 – Three variations on the Yang Pass – Dai Xiaolian, guqin solo (4'49")


Wang Wei: 陽關三疊 – Three variations on the Yang Pass – Anonymous modern performance from the CD “Gu Yue Xin Yun” (Old Music, New Sound) (7'08")

The Yang Pass today

Poemas del río Wang

Wang Wei (699-761) often retired from the court to his property in the valley of the river Wang, where he – as Julio César Abad Vidal writes it in the preface to his poems translated by Pilar González España – “dejaba que las horas transcurrieran, y obraran en él su influjo”.

With his friend Pei Di they made long excursions in the valley and, as a kind of poetic play, they both described for the other what they saw.

This is how the beautiful collection of Tang poetry Poems of the river Wang was born.

This is how we will also do in this collection.

We recall their memory with their first poem, in the languages of both of us.

新家孟城口 古木馀衰柳 来者复为谁 空悲昔人有。 nueva casa cerca de los muros de Meng viejos árboles algunos sauces mortecinos me pregunto quién habitará este lugar después de mí por quien ya lo habitó inútil es la tristeza új ház Meng falánál vén fák korhadó füzek vajon ki lakik majd itt utánam a volt lakót gyászolni minek