The Garden of Bright Waters Part 18

Through fretted s.p.a.ces in the olive wood My love adventures with the white sun.

I dive into the ice-coloured shadows Where the water is like light blue flowers Dancing on mirrors of silver.

The sun rolls under the waters of your bath Like the body of a strong swimmer.

And now you cool your feet, Which have the look of apple flowers, Under the water on the oval marble Coloured like yellow roses.

Your scarlet nipples Waver under the green kisses of the water, Flowers drowned in a mountain stream.

_From the Modern Turkish._

DISTICH

Lions tremble at my claws; And I at a gazelle with eyes.

_From the Turkish of Sultan Selim I._

A PROVERB

Before you love, Learn to run through snow Leaving no footprint.

_From the Turkish._

ENVOY IN AUTUMN

Here are the doleful rains, And one would say the sky is weeping The death of the tolerable weather.

Tedium cloaks the wit like a veil of clouds And we sit down indoors.

Now is the time for poetry coloured with summer.

Let it fall on the white paper As ripe flowers fall from a perfect tree.

I will dip down my lips into my cup Each time I wet my brush.

And keep my thoughts from wandering as smoke wanders, For time escapes away from you and me Quicker than birds.

_From the Chinese of Tu Fu (712-770)._

TRANSLATOR'S NOTES

THE GARDEN OF BRIGHT WATERS

I am hoping that some readers will look on this collection primarily as a book of poems. The finding and selection of material and the shaping of the verses is my princ.i.p.al part in it. Most of the songs have been written from, or by comparing, the literal translations of French and Italian scholars, checked wherever possible by my own knowledge. When my first and very great debt to these has been stated, there remains my debt to the late John Duncan, to Mr. J. Wing, and to a friend, a distinguished writer both in Persian and Turkish, who wishes to remain unnamed. The kindness of these writers lies in trusting their work to my translation and helping me in that task. My book also owes much to suggestions prompted by the wide learning of Mr. L. Cranmer-Byng. My final debt is to him and to another generous critic. I have arranged my poems in the alphabetical order of their countries, and added short notes wherever I considered them necessary, at the instance of some kindly reviewers of an earlier book, which was not so arranged and provided.

AFGHANISTAN

SIKANDER, Alexander the Great.

SHALIBAGH, the notable garden of Shalimar in Lah.o.r.e, planted by Shah Jahan in 1637.

ABDEL QADIR GILANI, Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani, founder of the Qadirite order of the Dervishes, twelfth century.

ANNAM

K'IEN NIu and CHIK Nu: the legend of these two stars comes from China and is told in j.a.pan. Readers are referred to that section of Mr. L.

Cranmer-Byng's _A Lute of Jade_ which deals delightfully with Po-Chu-i; and to Lafcadio Hearn's _Romance of the Milky Way._

ARABIC

ANTAR, the hero Antar Ebn Cheddad Ebn Amr Corad, who lived in the late sixth and early seventh centuries, owes his European reputation to _Siret Antar_, the Adventures of Antar, or more exactly the Conduct of Antar, written by Abul-Moyyed "El Antari" in the twelfth century. This book tells of the fighter's feats in war and of his love for his cousin Abla; and these are the themes of Antar's own poems.

AN ESCAPE: in this poem Abu Nuas, the Court poet, tells of an adventure of the Khalif Haroun. There is a story that the Khalif, being set back by the answer of his lady, called his poets in the morning and bade them write a poem round the phrase, "Words of a night to bring the day." All were rewarded for their work save Abu Nuas; and he was condemned to death for spying through keyholes on his master. But after he had proved an alibi, he also was rewarded.

"JOHN DUNCAN was a lowland Scot, who lived in Edinburgh until he was between twenty and twenty-five years old. He was educated at one of the Scots schools, and knew his way about the University if he was not actually a student there. He certainly had enough money to live on. A love affair in which he must have been infamously treated caused him to leave Scotland. Within a year or two he was an established member of a small tribe of nomadic Arabs, and eventually he became in speech and appearance one of them, living their lazy, pastoral life and travelling up and down with them the whole line of the southwest coast of the Persian Gulf. Before his death, which occurred last year, at the age of forty-two or forty-three, he had become acquainted with the whole of habitable Arabia.

"Let Mr. Mathers take up the story as he told it to me: 'He married an Arab, and all his forty-odd poems are addressed to her. I saw only a snapshot of her, which showed her to be beautiful. In her he certainly found healing for the wound his abnormally fiery and sensitive nature had taken from the first woman. She pulled together an intellect rather easily subdued. I only knew him after her death (his reason for travelling to this country), and a dazed, utterly unpractical and uninterested habit of mind, which alternated with his brilliance of speech and to a less degree of thought, was probably a reversion to the psychic state which his marriage had cured.

"'Like so many to whom life has at one time given a paralysing shock, Duncan was extremely reticent, save when he could lead the conversation, and be confidential at points of his own choosing; and he was not an easy man to question. The disappointment which had driven him from his country certainly made him more bitter against the British than any other man I have listened to. All his considerable wit and the natural acid of his thought were directed against our ideas, inst.i.tutions, and beliefs.

"'His one sane enthusiasm, English lyric verse, of whose depths, main-stream, and back-waters his knowledge was profound, formed one-half of his conversation.

"'His English in talking was rich and varied, and it was an ironic caprice which made him refuse to write in that language. I doubt, though, whether he would have composed with ease in any tongue, for he found it hard to concentrate, and his small stock of verse was the outcome of ten years of unoccupied life. He approved, rather mockingly, my promise to try to find an English equivalent for some of them; and I think I have copies of all he wrote.

"'One not acquainted with the man might find them rather hard to render, as, had he been an Arab actually, still he would have been the most unconventional of poets, neglecting form and the literary language.'"

My most cordial thanks are due to The Bookworm, of the _Weekly Dispatch_, for permission to make this long quotation from an article headed, "The Strange Story of John Duncan, the Arab-Scot," which appeared over his _nom de plume_ in the issue of that newspaper for March 30, 1919.

CHINA

J. WING: I have already translated three of this writer's poems: "English Girl," "Climbing after Nectarines," and "Being together at Night." These may be found in _Coloured Stars_. Mr. Wing is an American-born Chinese and practises the profession of a valet.

j.a.pAN

THE CLOCKS OF DEATH: this poem is a _zi-sei_, or lyric made at the point of death. Naga-Haru committed suicide after an unsuccessful defence of the strong castle Mi-Ki against Has.h.i.+ba Hideyos.h.i.+ in 1580. His wife followed his example, composing this poem as she died.

WAKANA, the turnip cabbage, whose leaves are eaten in early spring. The Mikado is lamenting a sudden realisation that he is too old for his love.