“Waiting for the Unicorn” | Open Indiana

T’an Ssu-t’ung (Fu-sheng; CHUANG-FEI), a native of Liu-yang in Hunan, is noted much more as a patriot, a revolutionary martyr, and an eclectic philosopher than as a poet. Nevertheless, along with Huang Tsun-hsien, K’ang Yu-wei, and Liang Ch’i-ch’ao (qq.v.), his name has been included among those who, late in the Ch’ing dynasty, called for the development of a new poetry as part of the general changes needed to cope with the cataclysmic events, precipitated by foreign encroachment and civil war, which had shaken China’s cultural confidence to the core.

While still a very young man, T’an traveled in many parts of China, as much for his own political education as to visit places of historical interest, to walk where heroic figures from China’s glorious past had walked. The few of his poems translated here were written during this period and, even in their descriptions of scenery, show the heroic sentiments to which T’an was evidently inclined. In form, these poems are traditional and show that, like so many others who wished to reform things literary, T’an found it difficult to practice what he preached.

T’an’s self-identification with great men of the past, his penchant for the heroic, is characteristic of his efforts to join forces with late nineteenth-century reformers who were desperate to come to terms with modern realities. When their impatient efforts brought about a conservative reaction—the removal of the reform-minded emperor Kuang-hsü from the throne on 21 September 1898, and the imminent arrest of the major perpetrators of reform—T’an had a chance to flee with other leaders and to regroup the movement in Japan. But, char acteristically, he refused, declaring his willingness to be among the first to shed blood for his cause. Along with five others, he was executed just seven days later, in the prime of a very dedicated and still promising life.

(Timothy C. Wong)

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1.Ssu-yü Teng, ECCP, 2:702–705.

Parting Chant

The desert is full of powerful winds;

In every direction, a vast expanse.

The setting sun, descending to the level earth,

Lengthens our shadows in the desolate air.

Grasping my sword, I rise to pass the wine,

And with an elegiac song vent my defiant spirit.

Since I knotted my hair and set out on a distant journey,

I’ve fought battles everywhere.

If heaven and earth will endure,

Our reunion will come as surely as our parting.

The dust of my carriage has obliterated the interminable road,

But the road is interminable: how can I forget?

(TSTCC, p. 451)

(Tr. Timothy C. Wong)

Fen-chou

Among crab apple and pear, birds summon the wind.

Alongside a trail, peach and plum are a mixture of white and pink.

Within a hundred li, spring is like a sea:

A city wall shines half hidden among ten thousand blossoms.

(TSTCC, p. 492)

(Tr. Timothy C. Wong)

T’ung Pass

From high antiquity, lofty clouds have gathered at this city wall,

Where winds of autumn have scattered away the sounds of hoofbeats.

The river, even as it flows through the vast plain, decries its limits;

And the mountain, entering T’ung Pass, will never know about leveling.

(TSTCC, p. 489)

(Tr. Timothy C. Wong)

Written on an Autumn Day at the Garden of the Official
Residence of the Governor of Kansu

On a small balcony, the shadow of someone leaning against the tall sky;

In the distance, the sparse forest in twilight’s glow.

Let me ask what the west wind is really doing:

To blow so gently, reddening the aramanth blossoms.¹

(TSTCC, p. 493)

(Tr. Timothy C. Wong)

Mooring at Night

The hawser tied against a stiff north wind,

A boat on a desolate shore at dawn,

The notes of a single horn from a garrison tower,

The longing for home in a strange land at year’s end—

Beneath a hazy moon the mountains lie as if asleep;

In the frosty cold the river ceases to flow.

Forlorn, the ten thousand things are still.

Then what am I here to seek alone?

(TSTCC, p. 467)

(Tr. Irving Lo)

Tao-wu Mountain²

A setting sun lingers lovingly among tall trees,

As dusk disappears into the blue peaks.

At the ancient monastery, clouds hover among cranes;

Above an empty pool, the moon shines on dragons.

Dust dissolves—by a ten-fathom waterfall;

My thoughts break off—at the single note of a bell.

The profound mind of Ch’an, where is it found?

“Chirp, chirp,” sing the crickets beneath the steps.

(TSTCC, p. 466)

(Tr. Irving Lo)

NOTES

1. Yen-lai hung: literally, “wild geese come red,” or Amaranthus tricolor, with showy red flowers resembling the cockscomb. Because its flowering season is in late fall, it is also called lao shao-nien (youthful-looking old man) in the eastern part of China.

2. Located outside the city of Liu-yang, Hunan, where a pond is inhabited by lizards and is popularly thought to be a dragon’s hiding place.

Waiting for the Unicorn