It’s November here in Beijing. Three weeks ago, before the snow really started to fall, we took the plants in from our garden. A week later, as we were looking out at our small patch of bamboo bending under the weight of the snow and ice, we decided that it was unfair that it should suffer too. So we made a place for it in our living room. It actually looks kind of nice and seems to be adapting well to the artificial warmth of being indoors. But now when I look out from my desk and into the yard, it all seems so gray. We have pumpkins on the windowsills and corn husks hanging so there is a bit of (autumnal) color, but I do miss the greenery and warmth of the garden in bloom, plants and flowers filling the corners and nooks of our small outdoor space.
- The cat sitting on my desk, staring out at the garden in summer.
Xu Zhimo was a poet of the early 20th century. Originally from Zhejiang, he took his education overseas, first in the United States, and finally in England where he fell in under the spell of Romantic poets like Shelley and Keats. Xu returned to China where he became one of the better known and more influential poets of the 1920s. Sadly, on this date in 1931, his life and career was cut short when Xu died in a plane crash while flying between Nanjing and Beijing.
This is a poem by Xu Zhimo entitled《为谁》(“For Whom”):
为谁
这几天秋风来得格外的尖利：
我怕看我们的庭院，
树叶伤鸟似的猛旋，
中著了无形的利箭－－－
没了,，全没了：生命，颜色，魅力：
就剩下西墙上的几道爬山虎：
他那豹班似的秋色，
忍熬著风拳的打击，
低低的喘一声鸟邑－－－
［我为你耐著！］他仿佛对我声訴。
他为我耐着！那艳色的秋萝，
但秋风不容情的追，
追，（摧残是他的恩惠！）
追尽了生命的余辉 －－－
这回墙上不见了勇敢的秋萝！
今夜那青光的三星在天上
倾听著秋后的空院，
悄悄的，更不闻鸣咽：
落叶在泥土里安眠 －－－ 只我在这深夜，啊，为谁凄惘？
For Whom
These days, the autumn winds blow harshly:
I lack the courage to look at our backyard,
The leaves rustle swiftly in the wind,
Just like invisible arrows —
It’s gone, all gone: life, colour, beauty:
What’s left on the west wall is the climber:
With his spotted autumn skin,
He bared the strikes of the wind,
Softly spouting out words —
“I’ll do anything for you!” he seemed to say.
He’ll do anything for me! The autumn blooms,
But the autumn winds chase with no mercy,
Chase, (to destroy is a blessing in disguise)
Hunting down life’s gentle radiance —
The courageous blooms have lost their place on the walls.
Tonight, the aurora of the stars shine in the skies
Listen, the empty backyard after autumn,
Softly, the leaves lay asleep in the soil —
All alone in this night, sigh
For whom do I feel sorrow?
————–
Chinese version and English translation courtesy of Reminiscences of Xu Zhimo