Philology and esoterica: scribblings, ravings and mutterings.
Friday, December 19, 2008
I've finally gotten far enough with my Chinese to attempt a (very poor) translation of some easy poetry. Of necessity, this is a loose paraphrase, since the literal translation would be ungrammatical, lacking poetry, and incomprehensible.
This is the saddest thing to me: Not waking to find you gone, After a night spent Composing poems on these walls, But there on the table to see Your wine cup, still half-full.