Topic versus Subject

Cén Shēn [岑參] wrote the following lines to Dù Fǔ [杜甫] when the two of them were serving together in different departments of the imperial government:

白髮悲花落，
青雲羨鳥飛。

The meaning of these lines seems relatively clear in the original Chinese:

The white-haired one grieves that flowers fall,
the dark clouds envy that birds fly.

Knowing that Cén Shēn addressed these lines to his respected elder Dù Fǔ, we can assume that the “white-haired one” must be Dù Fǔ, and the “dark clouds” would refer to the dark-haired younger man Cén Shēn. The couplet contrasts the older man’s sadness over what has passed away with the younger man’s envies and aspirations.

While the original lines seem relatively clear, what Jakdan did with them is not straightforward. Here are his lines:

funiyehe šarapi sihaha ilhai okto,
yacin tugingge deyenere gashai hihan,

The first line begins with a perfect converb phrase, funiyehe šarapi, “hair having turned white,” followed by a noun phrase, sihaha ilhai okto, “the medicine of falling flowers.” I have not found many clear cases of enjambment in Manchu poetry, so we should assume that this line contains a complete idea, and therefore that the medicine is a predicate. Somehow, we also need to square it with the meaning of the original.

A noun phrase can definitely be a predicate in Manchu poetry, and we often see this in poems with N-rhymes, because no Manchu verb form ends in -n. When we find the syntax NP₁ NP₂, we can usually insert a copula, reading it as “NP₁ is/are NP₂.” If that is what is going on here, and we take the medicine to be NP₂, then we need to look back and find NP₁, and the only previous explicit noun phrase in this line is “hair.” That would suggest a reading like:

The hair, having turned white, is the medicine of falling flowers

With a little imagination you could see how that line might mean something, but not necessarily the same kind of thing as the original Chinese line. The strangeness of this reading begs a closer examination of the line.

As we know, the hair in question belongs to Dù Fǔ, to whom the poem is addressed. If we take the topic of the line to be an unspoken “you,” then a different reading could be possible because the relationship between a topic and a noun predicate is looser than that between a subject and noun predicate. An example of this is the type of structure you might use when ordering a beer in Japanese:

私はビールです

In this line, the topic is “I” [私] and the comment is “[it] is a beer” [ビールです]. The meaning is not “I am a beer,” but rather “As for me, it will be a beer.” Applying this structure to the first line, we get a more sensible reading:

Your hair has turned white, and for you there is the medicine of fallen flowers

The word “medicine” doesn’t really capture the meaning of okto, which can also mean “poison,” so a slightly better reading could be:

Your hair has turned white, and for you there is the potency of fallen flowers

The topic+comment structure also works well for the second line, where the poet identifies himself as yacin tugingge, “the one with the dark clouds.” Treating that as the topic, we get:

For me, the dark-clouded one, there is the preciousness of flying birds

As a minor note, Jakdan’s birds are “flying away” (deye-ne-re), not just “flying”  (deye-re).

Translated Weirdness

Sometimes, when you’re translating a text, you come across something that just doesn’t make sense. If your text is prosaic then you can usually assume the author meant something sensible, and you can hunt around for a rational way to interpret what you’re seeing.

That approach doesn’t work as well when you’re translating poetry, because things happen in poetry that don’t happen in prose. When you find something that doesn’t make normal sense in a poem, you need to figure out whether the poet intended it that way, or whether you’ve simply misunderstood the text. The work becomes even more difficult when you’re translating a translation of a poem by a clever writer like Jakdan, who sometimes inserts his own twists into the product.

Take, for example, Jakdan’s translation of the following line from Spending the Night at the Yamen of the Left Gate in Spring [春宿左省] by Dù Fǔ:

花隱掖垣暮，    gurung-ni fu-i ilha buruhun-i yamjiha,

It’s easy to see which words in Jakdan’s translation equate to which words in the original, but less easy to see how he intends his translation to be understood.

The simplest way to parse the line is as follows:

gurung-ni fu-i ilha, noun-phrase, subject of the sentence, “the flowers on the outside walls of the palace”

buruhun-i, noun marked with the genitive/instrumental case,  adverbial phrase, “dimly, in a shadowy way”

yamjiha, perfect tense, finite verb, “it [the sun] set”

Unfortunately, this simplest way of parsing the sentence gives us a weird line that is difficult to square with the original:

“The flowers on the outside walls of the palace dimly set.”

There’s a certain beauty to the nonsensical idea of flowers setting, but Dù Fǔ can’t possible have meant “the flowers on the outside walls” in the original because the character 隱 (buruhun, dim) is interposed between the flowers 花 (ilha) and the outside wall 掖垣 (gurung-ni fu).

Another way to parse Jakdan’s line is to take ilha buruhun as a coordinate noun-phrase, “flowers and shadows.” This works better with the original because Dù Fǔ put the two corresponding characters together. If we set aside the palace walls for a moment, and let the genitive/instrumental -i at the end of ilha buruhun-i create an adverbial phrase, then the remainder of the line can be read as:

“Dusk fell in a flowery, shadowy way.”

Again, that’s pretty, but then what do we do about the palace walls, which also carry the genitive/instrumental case marker? It seems awkward and clumsy to suggest that the sun sets in a manner like the palace walls, or by means of the palace walls.

It would be better if we could read the case-marker -i on gurung-ni fu-i as marking an object behind which the sun sets. Semantically that isn’t as big of a stretch as it may seem, because we’re essentially saying that the sun makes evening by means of the thing it sets behind. That gives us:

“It [the sun] set behind the outside walls of the palace, bringing dusk in a flowery, shadowy way”

Or, to put it more concisely:

“Dusk fell flowery and shadowy within the palace walls” 

Bookworm

To the tune Drunk on the East Wind.

	nisiha umiyaha [蠧魚],		Bookworm
	Staatsbibliothek 11.57 (View Online)
	teku ai,		Where is its dwelling?
	bithei boode,		In the studio.
	jeku ai,		What is its food?
	hergen bete,		The written word is helpless before it.
5	umiyahai gebu,		It has an insect’s name,
	nisihai yangse,		but the appearance of a small fish.
	somitai,		Hiding away,
	hoošan tobo,		in a paper hut,
	me wang [脉望] ohakū seme,		it didn’t turn out to be a maiwang, so
10	naranggi,		in the end,
	bolgo gingge.		it’s clean and pure.

Notes:

teku ai, literally, “what is its dwelling?”

hergen bete, I don’t understand what bete is doing here. According to the Qianlong dictionary, a weak or inferior person is called bete. My best guess is that this is saying the written word is weak and inferior before the bookworm.

me wang, [脉望] mài wàng. This is a legendary type of bookworm that only eats the characters for “Immortal Being” [神仙], ignoring all others. By eating these characters, it can become an immortal being, and by eating such a bookworm a scholar can take the highest placement in the examinations.

bolgo gingge, maybe it is the page that is clean and pure, after the bookworm has eaten all the characters?