Wild Grass: Inscription
Translation
by Huiwen (Helen) Zhang, 2011
Last Update: Oct
18 2015[1]
When I sink in
silence, I feel whole; I will open my mouth . . . and at once feel empty.
The past life
has already died. Upon this death I hold
Euphoria, because through this I know it once existed. The dead life has already decayed. Upon this decay I hold Euphoria, because
through this I know it is not yet empty.
Life’s mud
abandoned on the ground, bares no lofty trees, only wild grass—this is my sin.
Wild grass, of
roots not deep, of flowers and leaves not pretty, yet draws in dew, draws in
water, draws in long-dead blood and flesh, plundering each for its own
existence. In existence, it will all the
same suffer trampling, suffer mowing, until death and decay.
But I am
peaceful, cheerful. I will laugh aloud,
I will sing a tune.
I love my wild grass, but I loathe the
wild grass-decorated ground.
Earthen blaze
paths beneath the ground, surging; once lava erupts, it will incinerate all
wild grass, as well as lofty trees, thus nothing is left even to decay.
But I am
peaceful, cheerful. I will laugh aloud,
I will sing a tune.
Heaven and
earth are so solemn, I cannot laugh aloud and sing a tune. Were heaven and earth not so solemn, I
perhaps even then could not. I, with
this single clump 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 hope for the death and decay of this wild grass blazing fast to come. Else, I never would have even existed. This would truly, compared to death and
decay, be more tragic.
Go then, wild
grass, with my inscription!
April 26, 1927
Lu Xun, Inscribed
at White Cloud, Guangzhou
[1] I THANK my students of CHIN
3143 Fall 2015 for their suggestions: Marshall Cornet, Savanna DeWeese, Justin
Dussold, Madison Reid, and Kyle Wipfli.
No comments:
Post a Comment