1 ( .)G REVIEWS OF RECENT BOOKS 



To us, then, the book smells poetical, so to speak ; it suggests 

 that the original was poetry ; but like most of his predecessors, the 

 translator is content to call his work "verse," and only by accident 

 does he reach poetry. It seems to us he does so sometimes, as in 

 "The Milky Way" and "Moon Thoughts," which we discovered and 

 liked in his earlier modest book. The Pearl Chajilet ; and many of 

 the other verses are smooth and pleasant enough. On the other hand, 

 a line here and there strikes us as being lame ; and with the best will 

 in the world, in a number of places we were not able to get at the 

 meaning until we referred to the original. E.g. in the first line of 

 "The Pair of Swallows" (p. 99) the expression "my passover meal" 

 is certainly arresting, if only for the change of accent which the 

 rhythm demands ; but who could have told it meant a traveller's 

 repast ? 



Again in the first line of "Absence" (p. 8) the Moon is called 

 "homely," in the sense of "here at home" ; and as for the third line. 

 "Nor drops the Wind long Autumn from its wings," even with the 

 help of the very clear and simple Chinese ( ^j^P^'T*^ )> we are 

 still in doubt as to what the English really means. 



We might point out in passing that "A Lover's Dream" (p. 237) 

 here called anonymous, is credited by Giles to Ka Chia-yun, 8th 

 century a.d. 



As to how far the book is an equivalent for the original, we 

 venture to think, 'pace the appreciative reviews mentioned in our first 

 paragraph, that to give an equivalent for Chinese poetry in any 

 European, — probably we might say any — tongue, passes the wit of 

 man. "To translate is to traduce," say the Italians; and if that is 

 true of prose, how much more of poetry, especially Chinese poetry ! 

 For, consider what has to go by the board : all the balancing of tone 

 with tone, executed with the exquisite art which conceals art ; the 

 neatness of the monosyllabic materials ; the chaste severity of the 

 style ; the vague outlines of the thoughts suggested. All these must 

 go, not to mention that countless references must either be laboriously 

 explained in notes or left obscure ; for the T'ang poets had a wonderful 

 past to draw upon — two milleniums and more, during which history, 

 legend, literature, custom and belief had united to stock that vast 

 storehouse of allusion which is the delight of the Chinese, and the 

 despair of the alien. 



What then is left to the translator? Mr. Fletcher tells us in his 

 Introduction; "Just human life portrayed in terms of Nature." 

 Whatever may be subtracted from Chinese poetry, the best always 

 remains — the throbbing of the true and tender Chinese heart. If we 

 could only give one book to our hypothetical friend, we confess it 



