Six Tanka by Ma Hua

Translated from the Chinese by Winnie Zeng and Jim Bonk

Rhododendron

The lonely rhododendrons— both the large leaved and small—
grow impatient for the leftover snow to melt, blossom
in a sudden pink—yellow—white.
They shake their year-long drowsiness down the stream, and let a whirlwind
take their fragrance to the backside of the mountain.

杜鹃

寂寞的杜鹃——大叶的和小叶的——
等不及残雪的消融，突然绽开，
（粉、黄、白）
把身上伏了一年的睡意打落山涧；
让过路的旋风把香气带往山背面。

Fog

A mountain a hundred and fifty steps away hides and reappears with a green so black it
shines but fades in the end.
A stream twelve li away flings its clear sound of waves towards me.
The world itself is only three hundred meters tall, and thirty steps wide,
squashed by rainwater from all around.
And not quite here nor there, from the outside of this world, two brown mules return with
shining fur

雾

一百五十步外的山时隐时现，最终带着满身发黑的绿消失。
十二里外的江水把明朗的波声甩过来。
世界只有三百米高，三十步远，
被雨水从四面挤压。
两匹褐色的骡子浑身发亮，在懵懂中从世外返回。

Peach Blossoms

Sometimes, the fall of peach blossoms comes with a boom,
as if thunder in the time of Jingzhe. But as I close my eyes,
the gaunt flowers return to their boughs,
and a group of jade butterflies suck on their pistils.
A black eagle begins to pluck my heart.

桃花

有时候，桃花的坠落带着巨大的轰响，
宛如惊蛰的霹雳。
闭上眼，瘦削的残花就回到枝头，
一群玉色蝴蝶仍在吮吸花蕊，一只漆黑的岩鹰
开始采摘我的心脏。

Spring Snow

The newly greened pine boughs are too weak to hold any more
of the white and cold. This is the last time: the excess white
loses its shape in the thin light and smoke.
Ice pours from icy slopes,
snow melts below all the snowy mountains.

春雪

新绿的松枝无力承担更多的白和凉。
这是最后一次：多余的白
在薄光和轻烟里迷失了形状。
冰在冰川上倾泻，
雪在雪山下消融。

Wild Orchids

Strewn over the mountain, their little purple flames
do not burn the green tongues of water primrose, but sear
the unsteady hooves of cattle and horses
stumbling their way home, and the tender lips
of sloppy and greedy butterflies.

野兰花

满山紫色的小火苗
烫不伤草龙浅绿的舌头，
却烫伤了牛、马回家时凌乱的蹄子
和散漫贪嘴的蝴蝶们
那鲜嫩的唇。

On the Mountainside 

The call of an invisible titmouse starts off monotonous, but slowly harmonizes
with the spring breeze. Left on a ridge by its owner, a black yak shakes its bell as it bows,
and vanishes. Lying between two trees, a man taking a nap stretches his humble body
into a straight line, and with the crooked stream in the valley flowing down to the left,
becomes an axis of the mountain.

山坡上

隐身的山雀的叫声起初是单调，又渐渐和婉转的春风洒然一体。
被主人放在草坝上的、在低首间摇响颈下铜铃的黑牦牛，也隐身。
午睡的人横在树间，简约的身体伸展
到极限，和左下方峡谷里扭曲的涧水一起
被俯视成雪山的两缕筋脉。

Translators’ Note on the Poet

Ma Hua was born in Tianjin, China, in 1972, and graduated from Fudan University. He started writing poetry and plays at university and was a prominent member in Shanghai and Beijing’s literary scene at the time. In 2004, he passed away in a car accident while volunteering as a village teacher in Yunnan. The poems above are from Snow Mountain Tanka, a collection published posthumously of poems he wrote during his stay in Yunnan. These poems showcase Ma’s sensitivity to the natural environment, his knowledge of classical Chinese literature, and how one’s inner world can strengthen and expand through nature and literature during times of loneliness.

Winnie Zeng writes and translates from Zhejiang, China. Her translation of Ma Yan’s poetry was a finalist for the Anne Frydman Translation Prize and shortlisted for the Gabo Prize in Literary Translation. Other poetry and translations can be found in Poetry Northwest, The Offing, Black Warrior Review, and elsewhere.

Jim Bonk is a visiting professor of East Asian Studies at The College of Wooster. He received his PhD in East Asian Studies at Princeton in 2014. Trained as a historian of the Qing empire, his research has been attentive to the role of Chinese poetry in articulating and constructing imperial imaginaries, while his courses at Wooster often use Chinese poetry, including its transmedia adaptations and translations, to explore issues of cross-cultural communication within the East Asian context.

Published January 15 2024