Letter on a Fan
Written in Hunan Province, in Feudal China*
How many months will it be,
sister of my soul, until I see you again?
I do not go outside my house at all now.
I am forbidden travel, and I know
you also cannot come to be with me.
How is your son? I wish it may
get easier. I know his delicate health
needs much attention. But I hope
you still find time to read poetry,
as we used to enjoy doing together.
Will you send me a poem,
one that you love? I will send one to you.
Here. I have inscribed it in very tiny letters,
but I know your good eyes will find it
in the secret crevices of this fan.
At evening by the river
before the light fades, I will look
southwards, to your house near the sea.
I can’t see it from here, but my heart
knows you have made it beautiful.
I will picture you there,
serene and smiling. You can do that too.
Imagine me coming through your gate
to visit. I dream of that visit. Now, as a token,
please accept this poor, small fan.
*In the Hunan province, peasant women developed a secret language of female writing, called nu shu. A young girl was matched with a lifelong best friend, or soul sister, called her laotang, with whom she communicated by letter. Sometimes these messages were inscribed on fans, which were passed back and forth.
For Day 6 of April 2020 at ‘imaginary garden with real toads’, we are asked to write in the voice of one such woman. (I am also conscious that in this present time, with the corona virus, I am unable to visit even my dearest friends.)
We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage /
And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, /
We Poets of the proud old lineage /
Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why ...
(James Elroy Flecker)
At evening by the river
ReplyDeletebefore the light fades, I will look
southwards, to your house near the sea.
These lines are so touching, and all the more poignant that we are all divided from our friends at the moment. Your poem is very much on point.
You have captured her voice so well, Rosemary, and taken me right into the heart of the story, which is so beautiful. In these times of staying indoors, perhaps our poems act as fans, shared with each other across the miles.
ReplyDeleteThis is so beautifully emotive, Rosemary!đź’ťđź‘Ź I love the heart to heart conversation here and resonate with; "At evening by the river before the light fades, I will look southwards, to your house near the sea."
ReplyDeleteThe isolation of the Chinese women and the isolation we are currently experiencing are linked by the corona virus, and we can’t even send letters on fans. Instead we write poems on the Internet. I love the direct address and questions in your poem, Rosemary, which make it very personal. I love the idea of looking for the tiny letters of a poem in the secret crevices of a fan.
ReplyDeleteGood advice, Rosemary. We are doing that also, confined to our homes unless necessary to leave. Travel was not mentioned but who would want us to come? No one who didn't know us. I was really peeved to find that my niece and hub traveled over 100 miles to another town. I told my sister they might be jailed. I have now to find out if she's peeved with me.
ReplyDelete..
I'm sure that fan will be a blessed gift for both receiver and giver.
ReplyDeleteCuriously I quite enjoy Japanese and Chinese literature and quickly picked of feeling of the prose of your poem which is really beautiful Rosemary.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad to know I got the right feel of it, Robin.
Delete(I used to read a lot of translations of Chinese poetry at one time, from past eras.)
DeleteSuch a serene verse.. there is longing but also a certain satisfaction.
ReplyDeleteThis is an absolutely beautiful "rendition" of what could very well have been written on one of those secret fans. Beautifully writ. I think today....of so many of us "sheltered" in our homes, sharing poetry with one another on this and other sites. Our computers are our "secret fans" with our feelings and worries and hopes and fears being shared across cyber space.
ReplyDeleteYes ... but not so secret, perhaps. (Grin.)
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