Wild Grass / Dedication

Wild Grass · Dedication

Lu Xun, April 26, 1927

Tr. by Huiwen Zhang, 2011

When I am silent, I feel whole; once I open my mouth, I feel empty.

The past life has already died.  From this death I attain Nirvana, because through this I know it once existed.  The dead life has already decayed.  From this decay I attain Nirvana, because through this I know it is not yet empty.

The mud of life abandoned on the earth no longer grows lofty trees, but only wild grass.  This is my fault.

Wild grass, of roots not deep, of flowers and leaves not beautiful, nonetheless draws in the dew, draws in the water, draws in the flesh and blood of the long dead, gaining from each its existence.  Yet in existence, it will all the same suffer trampling, suffer mowing, until death and decay.

Yet I am peaceful, cheerful.  I will laugh aloud, I will sing a tune.

I love my wild grass, yet I loathe the wild grass decorated earth.

The earth fire beneath the earth spreads, surges; once lava gushes out, it will burn up all the wild grass, as well as the lofty trees, hence nothing is left even to decay.

Yet I am peaceful, cheerful.  I will laugh aloud, I will sing a tune.

Heaven and earth are so solemn, I cannot laugh aloud or sing a tune.  Were heaven and earth not so solemn, I perhaps even then could not.  I, with this single handful of wild grass between light and dark, life and death, past and future, dedicated to friend and foe, man and beast, loved and unloved, testify.

For myself, for friend and foe, man and beast, loved and unloved, I wish this wild grass’s rapid death and decay.  Else, I would never have existed, and this would indeed be more tragic than death and decay.

Go then, wild grass, with my dedication!