Posts by Jonathan Chan

Translation Tuesday: Five Poems by Ling Feng

let us sing together, you can dance if you want to, / so those who are distant can hear us.

This Translation Tuesday, in honor of Mid-autumn Festival, we bring you five poems by the Chinese poet Ling Feng, in an immaculate translation by Jonathan Chan. The Mid-autumn festival, which originated in China and has since spread throughout East Asia, is a time for shared revelry among families—but not everyone can reunite with their families on this occasion, particularly expatriates living far afield. To commemorate the joy and sorrow of personal connections—familial, marital, platonic—across physical divides, we’re honored to present these five poems, which address love and longing with a singular attention to detail. In Ling Feng’s verse, a deep attention to the evanescence of life gives way to passionate descriptions both of the speaker’s beloved and the material world, a desire to cherish what is always passing. But the speaker’s attention to the transience of all things is ultimately a source not of despair, but of a renewed will to human connection in a fragile world: “let us sing together, you can dance if you want to, / so those who are distant can hear us.” Read on!

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soft wind blows in a single direction.
that which must have passed has passed.
at the moment when a place wraps itself around me,
people will be singing the entire afternoon.
that which must have passed, is past.
if there are tears, there is a heart.
if there are wounds, there is enlightenment.
people are as beautiful as the dust.
flowers are more lasting than forests.
if there are ten Hai Zis, then we must be innumerable.
let us sing together, you can dance if you want to,
so those who are distant can hear us.
all that we have missed for so long shall all come back to life.

READ MORE…

We Stand With Ukraine: “invasion” by Jonathan Chan

rough-worn faith / that this will make them listen. . .

In our third installment of this weekly column, we continue to highlight works from writers around the globe responding to the war in Ukraine. In this poem, Jonathan Chan, in a series of haunting stanzas, expresses the desperate but unflagging faith of a people resisting invasion of their homes.  

invasion

“The town watches.”

—Ilya Kaminsky

i speak not of civility

ambassadors in their pretty suits in
pretty chairs, faces walled by panels
of glass, spittle for war criminals who
will bypass purgatory, chilled before a
passive, bloodless face.

i speak not of civility

another tranche, another round of
sanctions announced on virtual
squares, rough-worn faith that
this will make them listen, this must
make them listen,

i speak not of civility

the instincts of past clicks, strategic
shares, swipe, image, swipe, clip,
swipe, image, swipe, prayer, swipe,
share, sudden rush of yellow and
blue, billowing, billowing,

i speak not of civility

all these groups suddenly dropped
on their knees, candlelight vigil
at 8 pm on zoom, learning again
the violence of intercession, a
century’s ghost moaning please,
Lord, please

READ MORE…

Translation Tuesday: “For T. Tranströmer” by Bei Dao

memory of a hurtling night train, how has/it caught up to the darkness ahead?

For this week’s Translation Tuesday, we celebrate the start of National Poetry Month (U.S. and Canada) with an ode from one of China’s greatest contemporary poets to one of Sweden’s. Bei Dao’s “For T. Tranströmer” recounts the sights and sounds of Tomas Tranströmer’s home life while channeling the concrete, narrative accessibility of the Nobel laureate’s work. Like a sequence of developing photos, Bei Dao’s vivid imagery creates snapshots that are dreamlike yet somehow worldly: the poet’s creative “center” is likened to echoing church bells and dancing headless angels, while the subject’s piano (a well-known source of solace for the late poet) sits atop a cliff and produces a “roar like thunder.” The subject’s “blue home” (which we also see in Bei Dao’s essay collection Blue House, a philosophical memoir which details his visits with Tranströmer) becomes the setting of a poet’s silent sanctuary—a place where music, poetry, and nature coexist. The artistic comradery between these two literary giants is a fitting launch to National Poetry Month as we recognize the international kinship between poets and translators.

For T. Tranströmer’

you place the final line of a poem
in your heart, locked. that is your center,
like the echo of ringing church bells
or the moment when the headless angels
begin to dance. you have held your balance.

your piano sits perched on a cliff, its
audience gripped, tighter and tighter, by a roar
like thunder, its keys roused to sprint. your
memory of a hurtling night train, how has
it caught up to the darkness ahead? READ MORE…