A Song of Misery
Looking and searching,
feeling so chilly and lonely,
for so long, I felt so depressing and saddening.
Cold spell of fall creep in taking away the warm days quietly.
It made me so restless and uneasy.
In the late evening breeze, a few glasses of light wine helped not in warming me up.
Over the sky, I watched the wild geese fly.
But they dropped me no message, not even a short reply.
Thinking of somebody with whom I was acquainted,
I was even more disappointed.
Wild yellow flowers carpeted the yard.
"Will there be anybody picking them again?" I continued to ask, thinking so hard.
Looking through the window, I waited for darkness to approach.
Showers mixed with raindrops dripping from the garden tree.
Droplet by droplet, this rain of dawn kept dripping on me.
At this time and suddenly,
My heart was filled with lots of misery.
(Victor Sung, October 4, 2002)
This is my attempt to translate a Chinese Song-Poem in a contemporary way for the 13 dragons (the younger generation). Although I may not fully represent the 12 swords (the older generation), yet I believe, the 12 swords will understand or share the feeling of the author.
A little elaboration on the wild geese may help the 13 dragons (the younger generation) to appreciate this Song-Poem. In the old days, there were no post office and no email. Other than hand delivery of messages, a common way was to use birds (carrier birds) for letter delivery. Pigeons and wild geese were birds capable of doing this.
About the Song-Poem (A Song of
Misery)
The Song-Poem describes the feeling of the author (the 12 swords) waiting for messages from her loved one (the 13 dragons) that was in a far far place (dormitory, other countries, or anywhere far from home). The author kept looking at the sky, hoping that the wild geese would somehow drop her a message. But unfortunately, she found none.
The original Chinese Song-Poem
《聲聲慢》
尋 尋 覓 覓 ， 冷
冷 清 清 ， 淒 淒 慘 慘 戚 戚
乍 暖 還 寒 時 候 ， 最 難 將 息
三 杯 兩 盞 淡 酒 ， 怎 敵 他 晚 來 風 急
雁
過 也 ， 正 傷 心 ， 卻 是 舊 時 相 識
滿 地 黃 花 堆 積 ， 憔 悴 損 ， 如 今 有 誰 堪 摘
守 著 窗 兒 ， 獨 自
怎 生 得 黑
梧 桐 更 兼 細 雨 ， 到 黃 昏 點 點 滴 滴
這 次 第 ， 怎 一 個 愁 字 了 得