[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”3.22″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_row _builder_version=”3.25″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”3.25″ custom_padding=”|||” global_colors_info=”{}” custom_padding__hover=”|||” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.10.7″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” custom_margin=”3%|5%|4%|5%|false|false” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”]<\/p>\n
Editor’s Note: This essay will serve as a lead-in to a series on Wang Ping’s personal experiences with Allen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, <\/strong><\/em><\/span>and the legendary Beats.<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/p>\n ____<\/strong><\/span><\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n The day I started teaching at Macalester College, Adam gave me a copy of Gary Snyder\u2019s Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems<\/em>,<\/span> as a good luck and good-bye present. He was going away for a month to tour Japan, France, and Amsterdam, leaving me with a two-year-old toddler, a three-week-old infant, and a challenging new job at a private liberal arts college.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row admin_label=”row” _builder_version=”4.10.7″ background_color=”#3d3d3d” background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”3.25″ custom_padding=”|||” global_colors_info=”{}” custom_padding__hover=”|||” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/251468072_10224564375730944_7015364787609585767_n.jpg” title_text=”251468072_10224564375730944_7015364787609585767_n” align=”center” _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” filter_sepia=”79%” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text” _builder_version=”4.10.7″ text_text_color=”#ffffff” background_color=”rgba(112,66,20,0.7)” background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” custom_margin=”-20%|10%|2%|35%|false|false” custom_margin_tablet=”-20%||0%|10%|false|false” custom_margin_phone=”|0%||0%|false|false” custom_margin_last_edited=”on|phone” custom_padding=”5%|2%|5%|3%|false|false” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”]<\/p>\n The first poem I opened to was \u201cAxe Handles”:<\/p>\n One afternoon the last week in April [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”]<\/p>\n I was blown away: Ezra Pound, Lu Ji, Teacher Chen, Father-and-Son Snyder . . . how did they all get entangled in this poem and form such a fiery energy field?<\/p>\n What shocked me most was the mention of “Wen Fu,” an essay on the art of poetry by Lu Ji, poet and essayist from 261\uff0d303 AD. Nobody in China reads his poetry anymore, but his essay, the very first in Chinese literary history, is a must-read for every Chinese student.<\/p>\n How did Gary Snyder know this nearly 2000-year-old text? Who was the professor translating and teaching Lu Ji? How did Ezra Pound get looped into this web?<\/p>\n This poet and translator from America\u2019s heartland started waves of new art and poetry in Europe with his translation of Chinese poetry and Japanese Noh theatre, and those waves then reached America, causing new waves of literary revolutions on the other shore.<\/p>\n When I discovered his Cathay and Chinese Character as a Medium for Poetry for my dissertation research at NYU, new windows and doors opened up, allowing me to see the roots of Chinese language and poetry, and what it means to be a Chinese, for the first time, away from home. “How did Gary Snyder know this near 2000-year-old text?<\/span>“<\/p><\/blockquote><\/div> Everything seems to stem and grow from translation. Even though Ezra Pound didn\u2019t know Chinese when he received Fenollosa\u2019s study notes of Chinese poetry, he was set on fire. The texts and his translation led Europe into a brand new world. Later, it seemed to lead Gary Snyder and many American poets into a new world, and finally lead a Chinese native speaker, me, back to my roots.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” background_color=”rgba(112,66,20,0.21)” custom_margin=”2%||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][cwp_image_collage num_image=”3″ st_src_one=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/251391242_10160451374559276_3268463173563539378_n.jpg” st_src_two=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/pexels-pixabay-36717.jpg” st_src_three=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/245946263_949789379214792_1666885364540890147_n.jpg” src_three_h_pos=”51%” st_src_four=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/02\/pexels-vlada-karpovich-4668378.jpg” _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][\/cwp_image_collage][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”]<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Pound and Snyder\u2019s translation gave me the courage to start my own translations: from Chinese into English, and English into Chinese. The translation gave me the key to enter poetry. It allowed me to step into two rivers at once. “Everything seems to stem and grow from translation. “<\/p><\/blockquote><\/div> Students didn\u2019t know who Gary was, didn\u2019t get everything from the poems on the first reading, but definitely felt the power.<\/p>\n They were definitely impressed and excited when I told them Gary was Japhy Ryder in Kerouac\u2019s Dharma Bum,<\/p>\n Later, I added \u201cBath\u201d and The Chinese Written Characters as a Medium for Poetry to my syllabus and taught them every year.<\/p>\n They were difficult to teach, because students felt more and more uncomfortable with the poem. I finally lost patience trying to explain, and decided to pull it out for my own safety, when I smelled the coming of the \u201ccancel culture.\u201d<\/p>\n The booklet on Chinese character and poetics was mostly lost on western students, anyway. I don\u2019t blame them. I didn\u2019t know the secret to poetry through Chinese characters till I came to America, till Ezra Pound gave me the key and let me into a land with even more mysteries and wonders.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_2,1_2″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”|||8%|false|false” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”]<\/p>\n But I kept teaching \u201cAxe Handle,\u201d and I kept translating, mostly from Chinese into English, which helped my own poetry writing. I published 4 books of poetry translation, in collaboration with the best American poets such as Ron Padgett, Ann Waldman, Lewis Warsh, Kenneth Koch, Allen Ginsberg, Keith Waldrop, Murat Nemet-Nejat, Ed Friedman, Simon Pettit, Dick Lori, and many others.<\/p>\n 2019-20, during my last \u201csabbatical\u201d at Macalester, I was scheduled to make three trips to China for teaching, lecturing and book tours for My Name Is Immigrant. But the pandemic locked me up in St. Paul. Being homesick, I decided to start translating American poets and myself from English into Chinese. The first poet I chose to translate was Gary Snyder, and the first poem was \u201cAxe Handle.\u201d<\/p>\n I thought it would be a piece of cake. Gary\u2019s language seemed simple, the concept seemed simple, the structure seemed straight forward. When I started the translation, however , it fell apart. The simple words, concept and structure felt flat. My translation couldn\u2019t bring Gary\u2019s magic across the barrier. What did I do wrong?<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/pexels-mati-mango-7040894.jpg” title_text=”pexels-mati-mango-7040894″ _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” height=”590%” max_height=”591%” custom_margin=”20%||||false|false” custom_padding=”|||10%|false|false” box_shadow_style=”preset2″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”]<\/p>\n In April, 2021, Gary received a lifetime achievement prize, \u201cPoetry and Poet,\u201d from China. I flew to Kitkitdizzy, his homestead on the Sierra, to host the ceremony, and broadcast it live to the world. His son Gen picked me up at the airport and brought me home. It was almost midnight. Gary stayed up to welcome me and shared a beer with me. It was almost three years since he visited Macalester. He looked the same, even though he claimed he was getting older every time I talked to him on the phone. He was 91 years old.<\/p>\n The next day, I got up at 5:00, as usual, and walked around his homestead, combing my hair. It draped to the back of my knees, and I didn\u2019t want to drop the loose hair inside, a habit I learned since I was a child, to avoid my parents\u2019 wrath. They really hated my hair entangling everything: floor, chairs, bed, vegetables . . . every time they picked up my long hair, they\u2019d pick up scissors and chase me to cut it off.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_2,1_2″ make_equal=”on” _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”-2%||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” text_text_color=”#ffffff” background_color=”rgba(112,66,20,0.67)” background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” custom_margin=”-10%||2%||false|false” custom_margin_tablet=”2%||0%|0%|false|false” custom_margin_phone=”” custom_margin_last_edited=”on|tablet” custom_padding=”5%|5%|5%|5%|false|false” border_color_left=”#e09900″ box_shadow_style=”preset6″ global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”]<\/p>\n As I was combing my hair among the ponderosa pines, Kai came down from the hill, a cowboy hat covering his tanned face. He\u2019d just moved from Portland to live with his dad, in a small temple on the homestead. It was uplifted from Kyoto and moved here in parts, then Gary, Ginsberg and other poets and Zen masters put it together little by little, in the heart of the ponderosa woods.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/pexels-tim-mossholder-3222686-1.jpg” title_text=”pexels-tim-mossholder-3222686 (1)” _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”0%|||-10px|false|false” custom_padding=”|2%|||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||4%|11%|false|false” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”]<\/p>\n We greeted morning. I remembered my questions from Axe Handle\u2019s opening:<\/strong><\/p>\n One afternoon the last week in April<\/p>\n Showing Kai how to throw a hatchet<\/p>\n One-half turn and it sticks in a stump.<\/p>\n \u201cHow do you throw a hatchet, Kai, and why? What is one-half turn?<\/p>\n Kai smiled big, as if my questions transported him back to his childhood. He pointed to the tree stump next to him, then to the workshop. He walked there and pulled out a leather pouch. It was covered with dust, weathered but well preserved. He opened the pouch, and revealed an axe.<\/p>\n \u201cThis is the hatchet my dad used in the poem.\u201d<\/p>\n I stroked the leather, the metal head of the axe, admiring its shape and age, so delicately reflected through its patten of rust and shine.<\/p>\n \u201cYou call it hatchet. I call it axe. What\u2019s the difference?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh huge!\u201d Kai said, bending down to pick up an axe leaning against the wall. \u201cAn axe has a long handle, bigger and thicker head, and is used for different tasks.<\/p>\n \u201cAh yes, like chopping woods.\u201d I stroked its long smooth handle. It has chopped many woods, as indicated in Gary\u2019s Han Shan\u2019s poems. \u201cWhat do you do with a hatchet?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMany things, including playing the game of hatchet throwing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAs described in Axe Handles? So what\u2019s a one and a half turn? How do you play the game?\u201d<\/p>\n Kai\u2019s face now opened like a flower as he raised the hatchet over his head, aiming at the tree stump. \u201cYou throw the hatchet and it has to turn 360+180 degrees in the air, then lands in the stump. Like this!\u201d<\/p>\n He threw it. The hatched hit the stump, fell off.<\/p>\n Kai laughed. \u201cI haven\u2019t played the game for so long.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMay I try?\u201d I took the hatchet and raised it over my head. A sharp pain in my shoulder. I had injured my rotating cuff skiing on the New Year\u2019s Day, and it was still trying to heal. \u201cMay I use both hands?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, just make sure you throw it with control. Use the core power, let the force transfer from the core to shoulders to arms to wrists to hatchet, Consider it as part of your body. Treat it as your arms, hands and fingers. You\u2019ll see what I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n I threw. It made one and a half turn, hit the stump, and rolled off.<\/p>\n \u201cAlmost,\u201d I shouted.<\/p>\n \u201cNot bad for the first try. You\u2019re a natural.\u201d<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” use_background_color_gradient=”on” background_color_gradient_start=”rgba(216,216,216,0)” background_color_gradient_end=”rgba(224,224,224,0)” background_color_gradient_start_position=”11%” background_color_gradient_overlays_image=”on” background_image=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/251485609_10160451374944276_339051549729273458_n.jpg” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” text_text_color=”#ffffff” background_color=”rgba(112,112,112,0.76)” custom_margin=”42%|56%|40%|2%|false|false” custom_padding=”5%|2%|5%|2%|false|false” border_color_right=”#e09900″ border_width_all_tablet=”0px” border_width_all_phone=”” border_width_all_last_edited=”on|tablet” border_width_right_tablet=”0px” border_width_right_phone=”” border_width_right_last_edited=”on|desktop” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”]<\/p>\n I was smiling big. This throw answered all the questions I had during the translation: the turn, the hatchet, the axe, the workshop, the game, and most importantly, the energy field where the father and son played the game together, the teaching and learning of making axe handles.<\/p>\n And Kai just opened that field and let me in with such generosity.<\/p>\n I still had questions: how did Ezra Pond and Lu Ji get into this field of wisdom and play?<\/p>\n \u201cHow\u2019s your transition from Portland to the woods?\u201d I asked Kai.<\/p>\n \u201cI love it. This is my home, where I belong.\u201d<\/p>\n I nodded. Gary built this place and this community with his friends, with bare hands. It\u2019s been a legend, a myth, a beacon for the poets and environmentalists from around the world. Kai grew up in this community since a baby, all recorded in Gary\u2019s poems. Kai is part of this legend. Of course he belongs here.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||5%||false|false” custom_padding=”||0px|||” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”]<\/p>\n “This is my home where I belong…”<\/p><\/blockquote><\/div>\n \u201cAre you staying in that house?\u201d I pointed to the small building uphill.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, my place is further uphill. This building is Gary\u2019s library, and we call it the Barn.\u201d<\/p>\n He started walking towards it, knowing that I wanted to take a look. I followed him. The Barn was wide open. I could see books spilling from ceiling to the floor from a distance.<\/p>\n \u201cYou leave the door open? No animals come in and chew the books?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBears? Nah, they\u2019re interested in the meat in our freezer. No food in the Barn.\u201d<\/p>\n We entered. I felt Gary\u2019s presence here. He had spent most of his life reading and writing in this place.<\/p>\n Kai pulled out a book from the shelf and opened it.<\/p>\n \u201cWow!\u201d he exclaimed.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it?\u201d I asked absentmindedly, admiring a certificate on the wall. It showed that Gary completed his summer reading program, and the Seattle Public Library awarded him with the certificate, in 1938. That seemed like many lives ago.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s Gary\u2019s most treasured award, all of the awards he\u2019s got,\u201d said Kai. \u201cBut look what I found!\u201d he held the book out to me, \u201cGary\u2019s notes on Ezra Pound and Lu Ji, when and how he used them for the Axe Handle poem. I can\u2019t believe this\uff01\u201d<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”3_5,2_5″ _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” background_image=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/11\/247433453_949789389214791_5954169066954084826_n.jpg” background_size=”contain” background_position=”top_left” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”3_5″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”2_5″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” background_color=”rgba(112,75,75,0.69)” custom_margin=”-15%|13%|10%|26%|false|false” custom_padding=”4%|5%|4%|5%|false|true” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”]<\/p>\n No way! I jumped and rushed over. Sure it is, in Kai\u2019s hands, laid the open book, yellowed, fragile, but Gary\u2019s red inky circling Ezra Pound\u2019s translation of Book of Songs, China\u2019s earliest anthology of poetry from 3000 years ago:<\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” background_color=”rgba(112,75,75,0.69)” use_background_color_gradient=”on” background_color_gradient_start=”rgba(112,112,112,0.22)” background_color_gradient_end=”#494949″ background_color_gradient_direction=”191deg” background_color_gradient_start_position=”46%” background_color_gradient_end_position=”76%” custom_margin=”4%|5%||5%|false|false” custom_padding=”10%|10%|10%|10%|false|true” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”]<\/p>\n 158 Axe Handle<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n How does one cut an axe-handle\uff1f<\/span><\/p>\n Without an axe it is impossible.<\/span><\/p>\n How does one take a wife\uff1f<\/span><\/p>\n Without a matchmaker she cannot be got.<\/span><\/p>\n Cut an axe-handle\uff1f Cut an axe-handle\uff1f<\/span><\/p>\n The pattern is not far to seek.<\/span><\/p>\n Here is a lady with whom I have had a love-meeting;<\/span><\/p>\n Here are my dishes all in a row.<\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”3.25″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”3.25″ custom_padding=”|||” global_colors_info=”{}” custom_padding__hover=”|||” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.10.7″ background_color=”rgba(0,0,0,0)” background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”]<\/p>\n I gasped for air. I\u2019d managed to collect every book by Ezra Pound, except for this translation, this original edition that Gary obtained in 1965, San Francisco, which he marked with his beautiful calligraphy. I had been looking for this treasure everywhere, since 1988, the year I encountered Allen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, Bei Dao, and Ezra Pound\u2019s translation, as their poetry translator, the year I stepped into the two rivers of American and Chinese poetry at once. I\u2019ve been looking for this edition during my PhD years, during my writing and publishing years, during my teaching years. I thought I\u2019d never find it. And yet, here at Kitkitdizzy, in the Barn Library wide open to animals, bugs, trees, wind and rain, Kai pulled it out from Gary\u2019s bookshelf, just like this. Now the treasure I\u2019d been seeking for 25 years was in my hands.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “What mysterious force that led me here, that led us here”<\/p>\n <\/p><\/blockquote><\/div>\n What was the chance\uff1fWhat brought me here in the first place\uff1fWas it just for hosting an international poetry prize ceremony for Gary, or just a signal, a beginning for something bigger\uff1fWhat was the chance of finding all the answers to the mysteries of Gary\u2019s Axe-Handles with one gesture, as Kai pulled the book off the shelf, without knowing anything\uff1fWas it true he truly didn\u2019t know\uff1fWhat was the chance of encountering Kai, the main character in the poem, who showed me the hatchet game, who led me to the barn, who pulled out Ezra Pound\u2019s translation, who opened the page of Pound\u2019s \u201cAxe-handle\u201d that revealed the origin of Gary\u2019s \u201cAxe-handles\uff1f\u201d<\/p>\n What mysterious force that led me here, that led us here\uff1f<\/p>\n What about Lu Ji, who wrote the first book on poetry and its art in the 3rd century, based on an axe handle? He didn\u2019t quote directly from Confucius Book of Songs, the #72\u00a0 poem, a love song by a young man pining for her beloved. No Chinese scholars studying Wen Fu ever mentioned the link between Poem #72 and Lu Ji. Ezra Pound translated the Book of Songs, but didn\u2019t have a chance to see Lu Ji\u2019s Wen Fu, or he might have made the link between the two. Yet, the form is there already. The form has been there since the birth of language, poetry and humanity. It has been waiting for Gary Snyder, an American poet, translator, Zen master and Deep Ecologist, to connect the dots. No, it was the child, Kai Snyder, who was playing a hatchet game, who hit the tree trump with his first try, who wanted a hatchet of his own, who began to fit the hatchet head with a broken axe handle under the guidance of Gary Snyder. As the father and son brought the handle and axe to the machine, trying to fit the two together, something clicked. Something illuminated the mystery of the cosmos, how everything began, worked, progressed, passed on.<\/p>\n This is what German Philosopher Karl Jasper called \u201ca deep breath bringing the most lucid consciousness\u201d to the Axis Age, aka Pivotal Age. During the period from the 8th to the 3rd century BC, new ways of thinking appeared in Persia, India, China, Palestine and Greco-Roman world.<\/p>\n Between the 9th and 5th centuries BC, various Jews started writing words sung to music for the temple worship, thus Book of Psalms, an anthology of individual Hebrew psalms, meaning “instrumental music,” “the words accompanying the music,” and poetry in the heart of the Testaments.<\/p>\n About 500 BC, Confucius started traveling from state to state, trying to teach ren\u2014kindness, benevolence\u2014to the kings. He was laughed at and shooed off like a dog. During his travels, he started collecting songs from peasants, merchants, soldiers, laborers. He organized them by countries, music and content, and put together the first poetry bible\u2014\u8bd7\u7ecfshijing, for China and the world. He taught the poems to his students, with music and dance. When his son asked him why they had to study poetry every day, he said:<\/p>\n \u201cWithout poetry, how do we speak? Without poetry, how do we live?\u201d<\/p>\n Without Book of Psalms, how do Israelis speak or live, as they wandered from place to place\uff1f<\/p>\n The Chinese character for poetry \u8bd7 is composed of two radicals\uff1a\u8a00word & \u5bfatemple. When we say poetry, it immediately signals words in the temple, words = temple, words stand together with the temple, in the deep of our consciousness. Chinese call the first poetry anthology compiled by Confucius: shijing\u2014\u8bd7\u7ecf\u2014Poetry Bible.<\/p>\n The words and music run deep in the veins of every Chinese.<\/p>\n Through thousands of years, as Jews wondered from state to state, continent to continent, they carried Book of Psalms as their temple, in their chest. Every time they sing the psalm, they return to Jerusalem.<\/p>\n Cut an axe-handle\uff1f Cut an axe-handle\uff1f<\/p>\n The pattern is not far to seek.<\/p>\n Book of Songs, 600 BCE, tr. Ezra Pound<\/p>\n How Ezra Pound knew, as he translated Book of Songs word by word, from its sound, image, and spirit. Even though he didn\u2019t know the language, never stepped on its land, he understood the pattern, and he could fit his handle perfectly to the axe head.<\/p>\n This is the task for every good translator: seeking the pattern, till the handle fits perfectly into the axe.<\/p>\n This was what Pound did, bringing Shijing to Europe, then America. This is what Gary did, bringing Zen and Cold Mountain to America. This is what I\u2019m doing, bringing Chinese poetry to America, and American poetry to China.<\/p>\n This is how we go on, \u201cmodel and tool, craft of culture.<\/p>\n In the photo where Kai was demonstrating the game, I discover, many days later, that the hatchet is hanging in the air, captured by the photographer. This is what poetry does for us: seize the moment and pause it, like the Zeno effect in the quantum world, where an arrow stands still in midair, for us to marvel and treasure.<\/p>\n This is why we write and translate poetry, in order to go on.<\/strong><\/p>\n This is why I write this essay, to treasure the making of axe-handles, to marvel at the hatchet standing still in the air.<\/strong><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.10.7″ _module_preset=”default” text_font_size=”13px” border_width_top=”2px” global_colors_info=”{}” theme_builder_area=”post_content”][\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Editor’s Note: This essay will serve as a lead-in to a series on Wang Ping’s personal experiences with Allen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, and the legendary Beats. ____ The day I started teaching at Macalester College, Adam gave me a copy of Gary Snyder\u2019s Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems, as a good luck and good-bye present. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":45,"featured_media":238756,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7,9,11],"tags":[311,310,39,309,308],"class_list":["post-238752","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-expanding-beyond","category-let-there-be-light","category-the-super-power-of-language","tag-axes","tag-beats","tag-craft","tag-gary-snyder","tag-ginsberg"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/238752","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/45"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=238752"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/238752\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/238756"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=238752"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=238752"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=238752"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Showing Kai how to throw a hatchet
One-half turn and it sticks in a stump.
He recalls the hatchet-head
Without a handle, in the shop
And go gets it, and wants it for his own
A broken-off axe handle behind the door
Is long enough for a hatchet,
We cut it to length and take it
With the hatchet head
And working hatchet, to the wood block.
There I begin to shape the old handle
With the hatchet, and the phrase
First learned from Ezra Pound
Rings in my ears!
“When making an axe handle
the pattern is not far off.”
And I say this to Kai
“Look: We’ll shape the handle
By checking the handle
Of the axe we cut with\u2014”
And he sees. And I hear it again:
It’s in Lu Ji’s W\u00ean Fu, fourth century
A.D. “Essay on Literature”-\u2014in the
Preface: “In making the handle
Of an axe
By cutting wood with an axe
The model is indeed near at hand.”
My teacher Shih-hsiang Chen
Translated that and taught it years ago
And I see: Pound was an axe,
Chen was an axe, I am an axe
And my son a handle, soon
To be shaping again, model
And tool, craft of culture,
How we go on.<\/p>\n
And how did Gary find the obscure Chinese poet Han Shan (Cold Mountain) and make such beauty out of his poetry and spread it across the ocean, then throughout the world?<\/p>\n
The gift of Gary Snyder\u2019s poetry was a signal for my first day teaching. I selected three poems: \u201cAxe Handles,\u201d \u201cRiprap,\u201d and one of Han Shan poems, to open my first class.<\/p>\n