Monday, November 20, 2017

Wind, another Black-Naped Oriole poem

I’ve been busy the last week looking at poems in fascicle 11 of Staatsbibliothek 34981. I had not originally thought that these were autochthonous Manchu poems, but on re-reviewing it I now think they are. (If you want to know more about how I decide what is an original Manchu poem and what is a translation, see my page on the Staatsbibliothek poems.)

Here is one of the poems from that fascicle. It is another Black-Naped Oriole poem, concise and somewhat obscure. The theme is “the wind” and the rhyme is EN, comprising words ending in -en, -in, -un and -ūn, including the theme word edun.

At the end of the poem the author says that the wind is an eldest sister. Apparently each of the trigrams can be understood as a member of a family, and in this model the trigram of the wind corresponds to the eldest daughter (長女).

edun [風]    The Wind
Staatsbibliothek 11.5 (View Online)
jijuhan dosin,    The entry of the trigram,
asuki,    is a faint noise,
untuhun,    an emptiness,
halhūn beikuwen ai kemun,    heat and cold without order.
5hūwašarai tucin,    It is the reason for growth,
sigarai yarun,    the origin of leaf-fall,
were wara kūbulin,    the cycle of life and death.
da fukjin,    At the very beginning,
sargan jusei —    among the daughters it was —
10eyungge eyun.    eldest sister.

Translation Difficulties

were wara kūbulin. The phrase were wara doesn’t appear in my dictionaries, but the phrase banjire were is given in Norman for “livelihood”, and wara could be the imperfect participle of wambi, “to kill.” I have long thought that the verb wambi is somehow connected with words related to the sense of downward motion, like wasimbi, wasihūn, wala and wargi. Perhaps the verb wembi, now meaning “to melt; to warm; to civilize,” is connected with words with an upward sense like wesimbi, wesihun. If so, perhaps it originally had a meaning in opposition to wambi, with a sense of “to give life to something.” For the purpose of this translation, that is how I have read it.

ai kemun. This would technically be a rhetorical question (“what order is there...?”) but based on Jakdan’s translation of the Ever-Turning Horse Lantern I feel free to decode the rhetorical question as a statement that “there is no order....”

Monday, November 13, 2017

The Ever-Turning Horse Lantern, a translation by Jakdan

The 17th translated poem in Jakdan's second fascicle is titled Torhoho moringga dengjan be irgebuhengge 咏走馬燈詩, by the Monk Wu Ji.

I was initially interested in this poem because of the word “lantern” in the title, which I thought could shed some light on the Manchu lantern poems.

團團游了又來游, šurdeme šurdeme sarašame wajinggala geli ebsi sarašahai,
無箇明人指路頭。 jugūn on be jorire getuken niyalma ai.
除卻心中三昧火, dulimba ba-i ilan unenggi tuwa akū ohode,
槍刀人馬一齊休。 gida loho niyalma morin gemu aššarakū bai.

My somewhat free translation from the Manchu (which is subtly different from the Chinese):

Around and around it goes, it stops, and then it goes again,
There is no lucid person there to point it on its way,
But when the fire of Triple Truth is extinguished from the center,
Neither spear nor sword nor man nor horse will move.

When I read this poem, I imagine some kind of clever shadow paper lantern where the hot air rising from a candle causes a lightweight frame to turn, casting moving shadows onto the outside of the lantern. In this case, the shadows would show a man with sword and spear riding a horse.

The word 三昧 (samādhi) is the clue that tells us that the lantern is a metaphor for the mind, and that the extinction of the candle in the middle, which causes the restless movement of the mind to stop, is a metaphor for enlightenment.

There are a number of interesting little features in Jakdan’s translation from the Chinese:

無 X -> X ai. Autochthonous Manchu poetry frequently uses the formula X ai or X ya, which is not very commonly seen in non-poetic Manchu texts. I have been interpreting it as a rhetorical question, as in In Praise of Fire where I translated cing cing serengge gidabure ai as “When it is blazing, what can stamp it out?” Given that that Jakdan uses this formula as a translation for “there is not” (無), perhaps we could read the line from Fire above as “Nothing can stamp it out when it is blazing.”

三昧 -> ilan unenggi. The Chinese term 三昧 originates as a phonetic representation of the Sanskrit term samādhi, referring to a set of meditative states of mind. Jakdan could have used a literal translation like samadi, but instead he chose a play on words and gave us ilan unenggi, “the Three Truths.”

Thursday, November 9, 2017

The Weiqi of Political Advancement, in Seven-Syllable Couplets

The anonymous Manchu poet(s) behind fascicle 14 of Staatsbibliothek 34981 liked weiqi enough to write two poems about it.

This second poem opens with a pair of officials, superior and subordinate, and a sheet of paper listing names and positions. Through a double entendre, the power dynamic between the two officials is compared to the power differential between two players in the end-game of weiqi, where one has attained a position of advantage over the other.

The sheet of paper between them is the board. Like weiqi, the correct move may not be obvious, and to win at the game you must be ruthless in your calculations. Your wealth and connections count for more than your aspirations.

The previous short poem, Weiqi, used a technical term that I could not translate, afari tongko. This longer poem, in seven-syllable couplets with an AN-rhyme, gives us more weiqi vocabulary to throw around the next time we’re looking across the board at a Manchu opponent.

Here are some of those terms, some of which are calques of Chinese terms, and others of which are borrowed from other sports and games popular with the Manchus.

buya ambakan hafan. The Chinese terms 大官 and 小官 refer to the apparent numerical advantage or disadvantage of each player going into the end-game.

gala. This apparently means “a move,” a calque of Chinese 手, which has this meaning in the context of weiqi.

lala. According to Norman one of the meanings of lala is “the last throw in gacuha.” In this context it could mean the last play of the game (收後) or perhaps it refers to playing white, which moves after black at the opening of the game.

mayan. Norman has mayan baha, “obtained a kill, won at dice, won at gambling,” as well as mayan, “blood from a wounded animal; good fortune.” Presumably in weiqi this refers to the capture of pieces or territory with a move.

teisulen. Norman has “correspondence, encounter.” From the sense of “encounter” I think this could have a meaning in weiqi of “connections” (Chinese 接).

ton, tolombi. The ordinary meaning of ton is “number” and tolombi is “to count.” In this context, these probably mean “score” and “keep score.” Perhaps this same ton morpheme lies behind the name tonio for weiqi itself, and perhaps also behind tongki, below.

tongki. The ordinary meaning is a “dot,” and in this case I think it refers to a point in the game.

hafan wesire nirugan-i amcara
tonio be irgebuhengge,
    Verses on Pursuing Political Advancement
as a game of Weiqi
Staatsbibliothek 14.18 (View Online)
buya ambakan hafan,    A lowly official and a superior,
emu afaha hoošan,    and a sheet of paper,
oron ubu-i gebu,    the names of posts and responsibilities,
bithe cooha-i tušan,

    official and civilian posts.

5 emke emken-i teku,    Seat after seat,
jergi ilhi-i tangkan,    a succession of ranks,
arahangge ne en jen,    what was been written is now finished,
faidahangge hon giyan fiyan,    what was lined up is very orderly,
toloho de kemun bi,    there was a system to the counting,

siberefi yaka an,

    it was massaged in some orderly way.

erdemungge jingkini,    The virtuous are upright,
doosidara miosihon,    the covetous are corrupt.
baita faššan ilgabun,    To judge affairs and effort,
muten gunggei faksalan,    to discern ability and merit,

yasa tuwahai hūi kimcin,

    is to examine with eyes wide open.

gala daci ai boljon,    What inherent certainty is there in a move?
wasimbime wesike,    In rising, you fell,
jabšacibe ufaran,    though you succeeded, it was a mistake.
wala seci dele ten,    The lower position may better than the high one,

lala bime bonggo ton,

    the last to play may have the foremost score.

forgošoro kūbulin,    An turn of fortune,
bekterere mongniohon,    a gasp of terror,
tongki erin ai kemun,    what sense is there to points and time?
gūnin seolen bai bodon,

    The only thought and consideration is calculation.

25 sain arga baitakū,    A good plan is useless,
butui nashūn toktohon,    certainty lies in hidden opportunities.
hojo: ulin teisulen,    Beautiful are wealth and connections,
baliyan: niyalmai cihalan,    pitiful are people’s aspirations.
ici tamin yenden jing,    With all the hairs aligned, ascent is continuous

ini cisui erin giyan,

    time and reason operate of their own accord.

ere acun de cacun,    This one gets mixed up,
tere huwekiyen ci mayan,    that one gets a lucky kill.
tere eici ai turgun,    Now this one wonders why,
ere geli ya haran,    then that one again wonders why.
35 icanggangge we eden,    Who lacks something interesting?
icakūngge ya kiyangkiyan,    How is there excellence in being boring?
gaibuhangge munahūn,    The loser is morose,
eterengge gicihiyan,    the winner gloats.

hafu tuwaha sehede,
When one has seen through it,
40jakai forgon niyalmai fon,    the season of things, the age of man,
dubentele efin kai,    in the end it is just a game.
nambuha de ai amtan,    What delight is there in happenstance?
jalan baita jing uttu,    The affairs of the world are ever thus,
baibi efire mudan.    a simple playing tune.

Translation Difficulties

gicihiyan, this word is not in my dictionaries, but from context this is how the winner of a game feels, in contrast with the user’s feeling of moroseness. My choice of the translation “gloat” is influenced by the similarity of this word to gicuhe, “disgraceful,” as well as gincihiyan, “shining.”

Monday, November 6, 2017

A Chrysanthemum at the End, to the tune of the Black-Naped Oriole

I had originally intended to post another weiqi poem, but I got bogged down in the details, so it will have to wait till later. In the meantime, keeping with the autumnal theme, here is another Black-Naped Oriole poem about a chrysanthemum at the end of the season.

The last line is a reference to the one of the Chinese names for chrysanthemum, 陶菊 táo jú, whose first character is the same as the surname Táo. In my translation I have taken the subject to be singular, though it could have been plural, and I have read the last line to mean that the chrysanthemum is a member of the Táo family, because I think this reading works well as an homage to an elderly person of the surname Táo.

dubesilehe bojiri [殘菊] ilha    A Chrysanthemum at the End
Staatsbibliothek 14.9 (View Online)
geren ududu,    Although numerous are
cak sehei,    the sudden
edun su,    gusts and whirlwinds,
ilha tuhenjirakū,    the flower will not fall.
5 banin wen gulu,    Simple in appearance,
dubei se guigu,    it is mighty in its old age,
salgabuha bekitu,    ordained by fate to be strong.
da uju,    Root and head
tuwakiyan fili —    it is resolute in watchfulness —
10too [] halai gucu.    our friend from the Táo family.

Translation Difficulties

geren ududu, the word ududu, “several, many” is a reduplication of udu, “several.” In this case I feel it is intended to simultaneously evoke the other meaning of udu, “although.”

too halai gucu, this is ambiguous, and we could read it as meaning that the chrysanthemum is a friend of the Táo family, or that the chrysanthemum is a friend of ours who is a member of the Táo family. Furthermore, nothing in the poem says we are talking about a single chrysanthemum instead of many of them. My reading reflects my specific interpretation of this poem as an homage to an elderly person.

Thursday, November 2, 2017

Weiqi, to the tune of The Black-Naped Oriole

Here is another poem from Staatsbibliothek 34981 set to the tune of the Black-Naped Oriole. The theme is the game of weiqi, often better-known in English by its Japanese name, go. The Manchu name is tonio, and according to common practice the poem rhymes with the theme, so this poem has an E-rhyme, meaning that all rhyming words end in either -e or -o.

I have not been able to translate one line, afari tongko, which I suspect is a special term (or pair of terms) from the game of weiqi. You might think that Manchu terminology for weiqi would be borrowed from Chinese, but like the word tonio itself, the origin of these terms is difficult to place. Who taught the Manchus to play weiqi, anyway?

tonio [碁]    Weiqi
tonio aniya fe,    Weiqi is ancient of years,
yoo han ci,    passed down
werihe,    from Emperor Yao.
yacin šanyan e a juwe,    The pairs, black and white, yin and yang,
5afari tongko,    afari and tongko,
bodogon noho,    are saturated with calculation.
tuwakiyarangge oyonggo,    Observation is critical,
ya dele,    and what more than that?
gūnin narhūn —    A mind that is fine —
10funiyehei gese.    like a hair.

Translation Difficulties

afari tongko, I could not find either of these words in my dictionaries. Given the preceding line they might be a contrasting pair, but there is no guarantee of that. One possibility is that afari might come from afa-, “to fight,” and so this might mean “attacker and defender” or “offense and defense.” On the other hand, tongko could be a form of tonikū, “weiqi board,” in which case the pair might mean “stones and board.” But the traditions of weiqi are also rich in specialized terms, making it difficult to guess what might be meant here.

Monday, October 30, 2017

In Praise of Fire

In the surviving body of Classical Manchu poetry, Jakdan was the master of the symmetrical couplet poem. This is a poem built of couplets where the primary rule of meter is that the two lines of a couplet must have the same number of syllables as each other, but may have a different number of syllables from other lines in the poem. (I used to think that the term fujurun applied exclusively to this type of poem, but now I think the evidence for that is quite weak.)

The poem In Praise of Fire has been previously translated in Bosson and Toh (2006). My translation below explores a few ideas that I have about the poem. Among these is the idea that Jakdan was playing with multiple meanings of the words tuwa and ya in the first three lines.

The word tuwa may be the imperative “look!” or the noun “fire.” Similarly, the word ya can mean “which” or “what,” but can also be an exclamation. There is no textual way of knowing whether Jakdan meant to play on these multiple meanings, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

Another possible instance of word-play is in the line weniyere wembure aisi. In the previous lines Jakdan has touched on the relationship between Fire and the elements Earth, Wood and Water, but he has conspicuously left out Metal, aisin. This line, which refers to melting and refining could be his indirect reference to that fifth element, with the word aisi, “aid” being a near-homophone to aisin, “metal.”

I have not been able to determine what places are referred to by Chibi Mountain and Efang Palace, but I hope to find that the former is a volcano and the latter was destroyed by fire.

tuwa i maktacun    In Praise of Fire
tuwa tuwa tuwa,    Look at Fire! Look!
ya ya ya,

    What is it? Oh, what?

na i juwe,    Paired with Earth,
šun i da,

    and the foundation of the Sun.

5mooi tucin,    Arising by means of Wood,
mukei bata,

    and enemy of Water.

e i boo,    The house of yin,
a i hūwa,

    and the garden of yang.

dolo butu,    Dark within,

oilo fiyangga,

    and brilliant without.

weniyere wembure aisi,    Helpful for refining and melting,
bujure boolara tusa,

    and advantageous for boiling and roasting.

fulhureci umesi heni,    It takes only a little to germinate it,
badarakai mujakū amba,

    but when it grows it is truly great.

15cing cing serengge gidabure ai,    When blazing, what can stamp it out?
hūr hūr serengge mukiyebuci ja,

    Yet when flaming it is easy to douse.

aššan eldehen jijuhan,    The trigram of movement and light,
fulgiyan fulahūn aniyangga,

    and the “red” and “reddish” heavenly stems.

abka de bici,
    akjan nioron usiha i acabun,
    When in the heavens,
    its effect is thunder, rainbows and stars,

niyalma de bici
    sukdun jili girucun i harangga,

    and in people
    it is the cause of zeal, anger and shame.

cy bi alin tede sanggū,    Mount Chibi is gratified therein,
o fang gurung ede waliya,

    the Efang palace is dismayed herein.

tuwa ya adada.    What, indeed, is fire!

Translation Difficulties

adada, Norman has “Brrr–an exclamation used when it is very cold,” and also adada ebebe, “1. an exclamation of surprise 2. clicking the tongue in amazement.” In this context I think this is intended to convey wonder, but I’m not sure how to render it in English. Traditional exclamations like “lo!” seem awkward and stuffy, while more modern exclamations like “wow!” seem out of place. I handled this by a combination of the somewhat stuffy “indeed” and the enthusiastic exclamation mark!

gidabu- vs. mukiyebu-, Jakdan says of a blazing fire that it is difficult to gidabu- but easy to mukiyebu-. I had some trouble sorting out the distinction he was trying to make, but it seems that mukiye- could be etymologically connected with muke, “water” and refer to the extinguishing of fire by water, while gidabu- could refer to the more literal stamping out of fire.

sukdun, the core meaning is “breath” which does, of course, exist in human bodies. But since it was coordinated with jili and girucun—“anger” and “shame”—I felt it should refer to a powerful emotion. Treating it as within the same semantic domain as 氣, I decided to read it as “zeal.”

Thursday, October 26, 2017

Shadow Play, to the tune of Matching Jade Bracelet / Prelude to Clear River

In Staatsbibliothek 14 there are eight poems set to a tune called 对玉環帶清江引. This is a Chinese  tune popularized by a late Yuan poet named Tāng Shùnmín (湯舜民), and also the title of a work set to the same tune by a Ming poet named Táng Bóhǔ (唐伯虎). All lines rhyme, and the metrical scheme is 4,5,4,5,5,5,4,5,4,5,7,5,5,5,7. In addition to meeting the requirements of meter and rhyme, the author of Shadow Play also made extensive use of alliteration in the first four lines.

Of the eight Staatsbibliothek poems set to this tune, five have titles ending in the word dengjan, “lantern,” such as giogiyan bethe dengjan, “Bound Foot Lantern.” One possible explanation for this is that these are a kind of riddle meant to be written on a lantern (燈謎) in the Spring Lantern Festival.

The poem below doesn’t have the word dengjan in the title, but it looks like a riddle anyway. The last three lines seem like an admonition to the reader who figures it out to not reveal the answer.

helmešere jucun [影戯]    Shadow Play
tekte takta,    flickering and guttering,
talihūn tuwara,    uncertain to the eye,
buru bara,    dim and hazy,
buruhun baita,    shadowy events.
5oilo hoošan fa,    A paper pane on the outside,
dolo dengjan tuwa,    a lantern flame within,
goci tata,    restless and unsettled,
jucun durungga,    in the form of a play,
ulu wala,    unclear and muddled,
10mudan urkingga,    the sound is noisy.
elden gaire dabala,    It is merely catching the light,
fosorongge gūwa,    something different from shining.
jooci joocina,    If you’re going to mention it, then mention it,
aiseme kūwasa,    but why boast?
15neifi tuwaci ai baliya.    If you open it and look, what a pity.

Translation difficulties

tekte takta, I was not able to find this term in any of my dictionaries. From context I take it to refer to the way candle light flickers.