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| Above: my second go at the poem I first posted here |
A state destroyed, but nature thrives
Deep green in the spring city
Time passes, I cry on flowers
A sad parting, a startled bird
War beacons burn for months
Letters from home are priceless
I scratch my thinning white hair
It no longer holds my official pin
There are a number of translations. I've found none felicitous. Not that mine is. It's tough. But it's a wonderful poem in its original. Four related couplets, with the characters in each couplet mirrored in the next line. It's elegant. In Chinese, anyway.
The "official pin" was a hair pin, in Tang times, which was a proof of one's office, like a warrant card, or a cop, these days, showing their ID. The Chinese is 簪 zān. (I took time with it, above). So, if your hair can't hold the pin anymore, it's like you've lost your position. And this was a time of revolution in China, when Du Fu, of this poem, was captured and held hostage, while the country around was in chaos. I think it's pretty pessimistic. Some say they find it optimistic. Hmmm...
Another translation I like:
state gone, just creeks and peaks
spring grows high in the streets
times bloom with sprinkled tears
birds part and start at heart
beacons burn for three months
letters worth piles of gold
I scratch my white hair short
so my pin doesn’t hold
