freya_victoria (freya_victoria) wrote in fem_books,

Чэн Чанвэнь

Об этой поэтессе эпохи Тан известно мало. До нашего времени дошло только три ее произведения.
В 16 лет она стала жертвой нападения и убила преступника, за что была помещена в тюрьму, и ее должны были судить по обвинению в убийстве. В стихотворении, написанном ею в тюрьме и адресованном местному чиновнику, она описывает как было дело: она находилась дома, нападавший был вооружен ножом, а она лишь защищала свою честь.
Writing My Feelings to the Regional Inspector While in Prison
                  I was raised in a secluded place near Boyang,
                  With chaste heart, as pure as solitary bamboo.
                  That year I was sixteen and full of youthful grace.
                  On ruled paper calligraphy emerged from my flying brush.
                  All day I would sit at ease, embroidering by the window,
                  Occasionally by the water I would pluck lotus and return.
                  Who was this person living humbly in her hometown,
                  Alone in her hidden chamber, unknown to others?
                    Sea swallows returned each morning, chilling coverlet and pillow;
                  Mountain blossoms fell at night, dampening the outside stairs.
                  That evil man, what were his intentions?
                    Knife shining in hand, he moved towards the curtain.
                  This single life would yield to the steel blade,
                  But could the value of my honor be darkly compromised?
                  My resolve was rock-firm, my feelings unwavering,
                    My will like autumn frost, my mind unshakable.
                  Blood splattered my silk garment, but to the end no regrets,
                  Stained my embroidered sleeves, but how could I turn back?
                  The district official had not learned the details of what passed
                  When he ordered me locked in the prison.
                  My red lips now taste falling tears, alone I bear this wrong,
                  My jade tears flowing criss-cross, I sigh over this injustice.
                  The cold watches of the tenth month make one long for a friend;
                  Each beat of the night watchman's clapper renews my grief.
                  My hair, uncombed, now falls like scattering clouds,
                  Moth-eyebrows, unswept, are still like the new moon.
                  The severe sentence I have been dealt is hard to escape,
                  This eternal matter of my heart, to whom can I express it?
                  I only hope to be cleared and released from this jail,
                  So others will trust this white jade is without flaw.

Перевод Хуэй-Шу Ли

Дальнейшая ее судьба неизвестна...
Tags: reading the world, Азия, Китай, английский язык, китайский язык, поэзия, свой голос, средневековье, судьба женщины, тюрьма

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