The ancient Chinese regarded the written word as a transformative force able to move heaven and earth and unite the reader with the source of all things, the Tao. The power of writing, especially poetry, is celebrated here in short texts that present both practical instruction and spiritual insight:
• Lu Ji's essay in verse, "The Art of Writing," reveals the inner process every writer must go through in preparing for the creative act. • Sikong Tu's "Twenty-four Styles of Poetry" teaches that poets must perfect themselves internally in order to achieve perfection in what they write. • "Poets' Jade Splinters" contains aphoristic prescriptions and humorous anecdotes about poetry, poets, and the rules of composition.
Assorted commentaries and critical evaluations focus on Chinese lyrical poetry.
He is the recipient of many national poetry prizes and of fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the California Arts Council. Born in Middletown, Connecticut, and raised in Bloomington, Indiana, Barnstone has lived in Greece, Spain, Kenya and China. His website is: http://www.barnstone.com
من الصعب على النمل العائد أن يجد أوكاره؛ ومن السهل على العصافير أن تجد أعشاشها"يحمل هذا الكتاب خصوصية الصينيين الساحرة والعميقة ورؤيتهم للشعر والشعراء على أنهم مهنيو حرفة إلهية.
أذن عليك أن تحفر في روحك ابحث في نفسك حتى تنتعش روحك غير أن العقل يزداد سوادًا فسوادًا وعليك أن تنتشل الأفكار مثل الحرير من الشرنقة. .. لا يمكن حجز الشعر الذي يسافر في الفضاء ويجدف عبر مئات الملايين من السنين ..
رغم ان الكثير من مقاطع الكتاب لازالت مبهمه بالنسبه لي لكن استمتعت به ولأنه مفيد وابغى افهمه أكثر راح اقراه مره ثانية.
"اصنع جرّةً من الفخار، وسيكون فراغها الداخلي هو الفائدة. ارسم أبوابًا ونوافذ لكي تصنع غرفةً، تلك الفتحات تجعلها ذات جدوى. من هنا؛ نستفيد مما هو حاضرٌ، غير أن الفائدة، تأتي من الغياب"."لا تمشِ خلف الآخرين. يجب أن يكون لك أسلوبك. إذا كنت دائمًا ما تستخدم فرجارًا لرسم الدائرة، ومسطرةً لرسم المربع، سوف تظل عبدًا دائمًا". وقصاصات أخرى، من فن تعاليم الكتابة الشعرية الصينية، تستمد عظمتها من هذا التاريخ الممتدّ لمئات الأعوام، وتتساءل: أي شيء ترك الأولون، للآخرين؟
Lu Ji’s Wenfu (verse essay on literature) is, in the West, a vastly under-read gem. While it’s understandable that students learning about the poetic tradition in English may not come across classics from other cultures, the practicing poet should have no especial compunctions. Inspiration and technique can be gleaned from a variety of sources. Why not a third-century Chinese prince?
Well, actually, there are in fact good reasons to proceed with caution. Translating from the Chinese is difficult, and even contemporary Chinese poetry is notoriously open to interpretation. For example, the vastly influential and subtly psychological poet Bei Dao is generally well-served by his American imprint New Directions, though I often find the lines, by focusing on spare accuracy, are overly minimalistic, and often end with a word or sonic quality (e.g. feminine ending) that is not in the original. As a result, some of the strength and certainty of the original can appear ambivalent in the English, lending the final products a certain floating vagueness I doubt he intended.
These problems are minuscule compared to the translation of classical Chinese. Extremely terse, classical Chinese is beautifully economical but very challenging to unpack. Traditionally, students of classical Chinese rely on commentary that has accreded over the millennia, though today crib-sheets are more standardized and widely available to the Chinese reader online. Not that I got very far. I am decades away from my college Chinese and my short time studying in Beijing.
I know only enough to know how difficult it is to know the real Lu Ji. I have looked at two translations carefully--the modern legend Sam Hamill, with his soaring and spare imagistic translation, and the team of Tony Barnstone and Chou Ping. Hamill’s translation is absolutely astonishing--it sends chills down the spine. He makes Lu Ji electric and new. By contrast, Barnstone and Chou have a more steady and sober-minded approach, using more of the tools of English to render a translation that offers greater fidelity and balance to the unhurried ruminations of the original text.
Hamill runs the risk of overtranslating the classical Chinese into our contemporary idiom, perhaps making him more convenient for the poet today who wants to write free verse whose primary concern is the play between image and sound, which, conveniently enough, ideographic languages like Chinese naturally highlight. Hamill indeed achieves great amplitude, but at the expense of some breadth and scope.
Lu Ji is just too important to miss any one dimension of his ideas. From how to compose new poems, how to confront writer’s block, how to revise, and how to grapple with originality, Lu Ji offers fantastic advice. If you can only have one translation, make it this one.
This thin volume is packed with insights on writing -- especially, but not exclusively, poetry. It consists of four chapters. The first two are the ars poetica of Lu Ji and Sikong Tu, respectively (i.e. The Art of Writing and The Twenty-Four Styles of Poetry.) The second half of the book consists of two chapters of collected sayings and poetry commentary excerpts.
I haven't read a book so dense with quotable lines in a while. Some of the advice offered is universal and timeless (e.g. avoid cliches and read voraciously,) but some of it reflects a uniquely Chinese perspective rooted in Taoist and Zen sentiments (e.g. how to use wu wei [effortlessness] in one's writing and so forth.)
There is a preface and each of the sections has its own editorial opening, but these never feel like padding (which often happens with books that come out to less than a hundred pages of content.) Instead, this ancillary material is concise and helps to set up one is reading.
I'd highly recommend this book for writers and those interested in Eastern aesthetics and literature. That said, you don't necessarily have to be interested in both. Any writer could pick up some beneficial tips while reading this book, and it's compact, highly readable, and even humorous in places.
It's very interesting to read the writing advice from centuries and millennia past--in China. I especially enjoyed the craft tips from Lu Ji (261-303) in the book's first section.
الحرفة الأدبية في فن الشعر لدى الصينيين صناعة أدبية من الطراز الرفيع. عميقة مدهشة واعية وذات إلهامٍ متصل ومتجذر بالطبيعة الأم. أساليب شعرية مُتخمة بالبساطة والعمق متلونة بآراء ذكية بطابعٍ إنساني. كتاب خفيف ومُدهش صفحاته في حدود ال١٧٥ صفحة.
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هذه أمثلة عن الوعي العميق دون مشاركة الذات. الوعي العميق بمشاركة الذات يستخدمُ لمراقبة الأشياء، وبالتالي تتلوّنُ جميع الأشياء بذاتي. في الوعي العميق دون مشاركة الذات، تراقبُ الأشياءُ الأشياءَ، ولا يستطيع المرءُ أن يفرّقَ بين ما هو "آخر" وبين ما هو "لي." | من : تعليقات عالمية إنسانية على الشعر لوانغ غووي (١٨٧٧-١٩٢٧)