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The Lantern and the Night Moths: Five Modern and Contemporary Chinese Poets in Translation
The work of Tang Dynasty Classical Chinese poets such as Li Bai, Du Fu, and Wang Wei has long been celebrated in both China and internationally, and various English translations and mistranslations of their work played a pivotal but often unacknowledged role in shaping the emergence and evolution of modern Anglophone poetry. In The Lantern and the Night Moths , Chinese Canadian poet-translator Yilin Wang has selected and translated poems by five of China’s most innovative modern and contemporary Fei Ming, Qiu Jin, Zhang Qiaohui, Xiao Xi, and Dai Wangshu. Their poetry expands and subverts the long lineage of Classical Chinese poetry that precedes them. Wang’s translations are featured alongside the original Chinese texts, and as well as original essays by Wang that reflect on the key themes and stylistic features of modern Sinophone poetry and on the art and craft of poetry translation. Together, these poems and essays chart the development of a myriad of modernist poetry traditions in China that parallel, diverge from, and sometimes intersect with their Anglophone and Western counterparts.
112 pages, Paperback
First published April 2, 2024
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479 people want to read
About the author
Yilin Wang
9 books44 followersYilin Wang (she/they) is a poet and Chinese-English translator. She is the translator and editor of The Lantern and the Night Moths, her debut book of translated poetry and essays on translation. Her words have appeared in Clarkesworld, Fantasy Magazine, The Malahat Review, Arc Poetry, Grain, Contemporary Verse 2, carte blanche, The Tyee, The Toronto Star, and elsewhere. Her translations are published or forthcoming in Room, Canthius, Asymptote, Samovar, and the anthology The Way Spring Arrives (TorDotCom). She has an MFA in from the University of British Columbia and is a graduate of Clarion West.
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March 18, 2024
This is a collection of poetry by five modern and contemporary Chinese women poets (tr. Yilin Wang).
Nature and festivals linger in the Chinese poetry. The willingness overcomes one's actual strength. Free-spirited voices and persistence are the essence of Chinese poems, reminiscent of millennium of dynasties and yearn for identity. There is an inexplicable closeness { zhiyin 知音 }, even among those meeting for the first time. When elder's wisdom interweaves cultural superstition. Loss and illness permeate the nostalgia of ancestral land, ultimately denoting legacy. There is a heroism that traces its root back to wuxia. The homesickness and melancholy of longing which are partly fruit of a grief that rides over generations. This emptiness balanced by open-minded people who can envision the product of hardworking. Feminism lingers within the words, an endless urge to fight the systemic erasure and conventions of this genre.
Wang offers a moving translation that I believe only native translators are able to fully grasp the five thousand years of historical backdrop and lyricism, a baggage of Chinese poetry's rhymes. "The meaning of a word cannot be fully expressed in one single translation." Wang intimately shares the act of translation that comes from the profound connection with the mother tongue - each poem blooms before one's eyes, a wonderful encapsulation of autumn moon and winds; of yearning for home. Wang reincarnates the language of diaspora, blending her personal experiences with the story of poets, while dissecting the history of the classics of poetry.
THE LANTERN AND THE NIGHT MOTHS highlights the voices of women poets, of kindred spirits with different styles and philosophies. At its core, this is about the long-lasting power of poetry, art of translation and richness of Chinese language, which endure cruel adaptations yet at the same time, metamorphoses.
Full of vulnerabilities and meticulous. Often elusive, I am certain there are still many aspects for me to fully absorb.
ps: the lush footnotes frame a deeper understanding of the context
[ I received a complimentary copy from the publisher - Invisible Publishing . All opinions are my own ]
Nature and festivals linger in the Chinese poetry. The willingness overcomes one's actual strength. Free-spirited voices and persistence are the essence of Chinese poems, reminiscent of millennium of dynasties and yearn for identity. There is an inexplicable closeness { zhiyin 知音 }, even among those meeting for the first time. When elder's wisdom interweaves cultural superstition. Loss and illness permeate the nostalgia of ancestral land, ultimately denoting legacy. There is a heroism that traces its root back to wuxia. The homesickness and melancholy of longing which are partly fruit of a grief that rides over generations. This emptiness balanced by open-minded people who can envision the product of hardworking. Feminism lingers within the words, an endless urge to fight the systemic erasure and conventions of this genre.
Wang offers a moving translation that I believe only native translators are able to fully grasp the five thousand years of historical backdrop and lyricism, a baggage of Chinese poetry's rhymes. "The meaning of a word cannot be fully expressed in one single translation." Wang intimately shares the act of translation that comes from the profound connection with the mother tongue - each poem blooms before one's eyes, a wonderful encapsulation of autumn moon and winds; of yearning for home. Wang reincarnates the language of diaspora, blending her personal experiences with the story of poets, while dissecting the history of the classics of poetry.
THE LANTERN AND THE NIGHT MOTHS highlights the voices of women poets, of kindred spirits with different styles and philosophies. At its core, this is about the long-lasting power of poetry, art of translation and richness of Chinese language, which endure cruel adaptations yet at the same time, metamorphoses.
Full of vulnerabilities and meticulous. Often elusive, I am certain there are still many aspects for me to fully absorb.
ps: the lush footnotes frame a deeper understanding of the context
[ I received a complimentary copy from the publisher - Invisible Publishing . All opinions are my own ]
February 19, 2024
Disclosure: I have received an advance copy of The Lantern and the Night Moths to write a forthcoming magazine review.
Having devoured the ARC the day I received it, I can say with confidence this collection is a feast! The diverse works and voices represented are made accessible by author Yilin Wang's lyrical, heartfelt translations no matter what the reader's relationship with the original language: Shaky and uncertain in my case, but with no barriers to non-speakers and likely enjoyable even to fluent Chinese speakers for the lesser-traveled route through modernist Chinese poetry and the author's deft guide through poetics, literary history, and the art of translation.
It was quite the experience to be immersed in such different ages and styles in one volume, from feminist revolutionary Qiu Jin's fierce yearnings expressed in classical form, to early modernist Fei Ming's bridging between the old and new in experimental, enigmatic verse, onward to poet-translator Dai Wangshu's wistful reflections and contemporary poets Zhang Qiaohui and Xiao Xi's everyday imagery and vivid poetic language.
The effect was one of lively dialogue between these remarkable poets through their differences and convergences in style and imagery. "I shall declare, I have swept the dust of the world away," proclaims the rebellious warrior Qiu Jin, while Fei Ming philosophically muses, "the universe is a particle of indestructible dust floating in the air." Zhang Qiaohui patiently builds narrative in weighty blocks of language ("a pseudo-classical reconstruction made of bricks and reinforced concrete/It comforts me with its mundanity") while Xiao Xi throws searing moments packaged in the rhythm of hyper-condensed language that beats with the consciousness of the now ("some people . . . auction their kidneys off to pay for iPhones"). Dai Wangshu, that seasoned flyer between worlds of thought and language, casually melds East and West together ("I think, therefore I am a butterfly...") and sinks deep into existential meditations that waver like a flame between meanings, skillfully captured by the translator. ("这只是为了一念, 不是梦/就像那一天我化成凤。All for a single conviction, not a fantasy/but that day I transformed into a phoenix.") I traversed unspeakable vastness through words and the spaces in between, the whole so much more than the sum of what was said.
A must-read for anyone with a stake in the art of poetry and its translation, The Lantern and the Night Moths is a unique and necessary collection that raises urgent questions about the future of translation and translators in an age of upheaval, where old forms of devaluation and exploitation--as brought home by the British Museum's uncredited and unpaid use of Wang's Qiu Jin translations--coexist with the new in the use of technological sleight-of-hand to erase and appropriate translators' labor. The Lantern and the Night Moths is both a literary treat and a clarion call that contains multitudes in a slim volume, a celebration, mourning, and hopeful anticipation of what has been and might yet be.
Having devoured the ARC the day I received it, I can say with confidence this collection is a feast! The diverse works and voices represented are made accessible by author Yilin Wang's lyrical, heartfelt translations no matter what the reader's relationship with the original language: Shaky and uncertain in my case, but with no barriers to non-speakers and likely enjoyable even to fluent Chinese speakers for the lesser-traveled route through modernist Chinese poetry and the author's deft guide through poetics, literary history, and the art of translation.
It was quite the experience to be immersed in such different ages and styles in one volume, from feminist revolutionary Qiu Jin's fierce yearnings expressed in classical form, to early modernist Fei Ming's bridging between the old and new in experimental, enigmatic verse, onward to poet-translator Dai Wangshu's wistful reflections and contemporary poets Zhang Qiaohui and Xiao Xi's everyday imagery and vivid poetic language.
The effect was one of lively dialogue between these remarkable poets through their differences and convergences in style and imagery. "I shall declare, I have swept the dust of the world away," proclaims the rebellious warrior Qiu Jin, while Fei Ming philosophically muses, "the universe is a particle of indestructible dust floating in the air." Zhang Qiaohui patiently builds narrative in weighty blocks of language ("a pseudo-classical reconstruction made of bricks and reinforced concrete/It comforts me with its mundanity") while Xiao Xi throws searing moments packaged in the rhythm of hyper-condensed language that beats with the consciousness of the now ("some people . . . auction their kidneys off to pay for iPhones"). Dai Wangshu, that seasoned flyer between worlds of thought and language, casually melds East and West together ("I think, therefore I am a butterfly...") and sinks deep into existential meditations that waver like a flame between meanings, skillfully captured by the translator. ("这只是为了一念, 不是梦/就像那一天我化成凤。All for a single conviction, not a fantasy/but that day I transformed into a phoenix.") I traversed unspeakable vastness through words and the spaces in between, the whole so much more than the sum of what was said.
A must-read for anyone with a stake in the art of poetry and its translation, The Lantern and the Night Moths is a unique and necessary collection that raises urgent questions about the future of translation and translators in an age of upheaval, where old forms of devaluation and exploitation--as brought home by the British Museum's uncredited and unpaid use of Wang's Qiu Jin translations--coexist with the new in the use of technological sleight-of-hand to erase and appropriate translators' labor. The Lantern and the Night Moths is both a literary treat and a clarion call that contains multitudes in a slim volume, a celebration, mourning, and hopeful anticipation of what has been and might yet be.
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August 14, 2024I had quite an adventure getting this book (eventually, Guanghwa on Shaftesbury Avenue got it for me along with some signed postcards from the author) so I was a little disappointed that in the end, I didn't enjoy it as much as the quest to find it. It's a selection of poetry by five Chinese poets across a broad spread of history, translated by a Canadian-Chinese translator, with some historical and contextual notes provided. I wanted to have the experience of reading Chinese poetry, noting that Mandarin and English are so wildly dissimilar that it wouldn't be very close to the original at all, but that translation and deep thought can always convey some meaning. And, you know, I got that. So that's good. I was particularly fascinated with the poet Qui Jin, a Chinese feminist revolutionary who died at the age of 32 in 1907. I'd never heard of her or her poetry and I'm very glad I now have.
However, the problem with this book is that it's not a slim volume of poetry in translation and explanatory notes. It contains rather a lot too much of the translator's thoughts and feelings on things. Is that me being cruel? Perhaps. Especially when the translator's thoughts and feelings are about feminism, diaspora, identity, loss: things that are important, especially to me. (A particularly cruel thought from me, the much-less lauded diaspora writer: you're translating *poetry* in your family's language into English, fuck *off* with your diaspora problems.) But it's also the translator's thoughts and feelings about other things, which... again. Okay. Fine. Fine, also, that she frames her notes on Qiu Jin as a letter to the poet herself. Cutesy, but fine. Then you read the letter, and you're like, I'm not saying it's not a real issue, but do we really think the nineteenth century matyred revolutionary poet Qiu Jin would have cared that much about the Sinophobia of the modern Western publishing industry?
Who knows. Maybe she would. Maybe I am crotchety and not meeting a work on its terms. And I do love poetry, and I'm glad to have had this chance to read it. There we go.
However, the problem with this book is that it's not a slim volume of poetry in translation and explanatory notes. It contains rather a lot too much of the translator's thoughts and feelings on things. Is that me being cruel? Perhaps. Especially when the translator's thoughts and feelings are about feminism, diaspora, identity, loss: things that are important, especially to me. (A particularly cruel thought from me, the much-less lauded diaspora writer: you're translating *poetry* in your family's language into English, fuck *off* with your diaspora problems.) But it's also the translator's thoughts and feelings about other things, which... again. Okay. Fine. Fine, also, that she frames her notes on Qiu Jin as a letter to the poet herself. Cutesy, but fine. Then you read the letter, and you're like, I'm not saying it's not a real issue, but do we really think the nineteenth century matyred revolutionary poet Qiu Jin would have cared that much about the Sinophobia of the modern Western publishing industry?
Who knows. Maybe she would. Maybe I am crotchety and not meeting a work on its terms. And I do love poetry, and I'm glad to have had this chance to read it. There we go.
January 8, 2024
"The Lantern and the Night Moths," selected and translated by Yilin Wang, is a collection of modern and contemporary Chinese poetry, offering a glimpse into the rich tapestry of Sinophone poetic tradition. Alongside these beautiful translations, the anthology offers Yilin’s insightful essays on each of the poets she translates. These essays embody the translator's journey and struggle in the diaspora.
Living away from her homeland, Yilin finds solace and a sense of belonging in the act of translation, connecting deeply with her mother tongues of Mandarin and Sichuanese. This work is a lifeline for her, anchoring her to her cultural roots in a world where she often feels adrift.
Yilin's translation process is an intimate act of reimagining the poets' words, evoking the rhythms and nuances of their original dialects. This approach highlights the diversity within the Chinese language and the unique linguistic ties to specific regions and cultures. Her work mirrors the diaspora experience, reconstructing a poetic home that is both familiar and new, a symbolic pagoda built from words that offer reassurance and connection.
The translator's personal journey is interwoven with the histories and stories of the poets she translates. Yilin's own familial experiences, particularly the teachings of her grandmother, inspire her to seek out and give voice to women poets whose works have been overlooked or forgotten. This pursuit fills the gaps left by lost stories and unspoken histories, creating a tapestry that honors the past while speaking to present and future generations.
Yilin's dedication to translating these works is a testament to the enduring power of poetry. She likens her role to that of a nurse, gently guiding each poem through the transformative process of translation, ensuring that its essence remains intact. This careful and sensitive approach allows us to experience the resilience and adaptability of language and culture, and a tribute to the poets and translators who bridge worlds with their words.
Living away from her homeland, Yilin finds solace and a sense of belonging in the act of translation, connecting deeply with her mother tongues of Mandarin and Sichuanese. This work is a lifeline for her, anchoring her to her cultural roots in a world where she often feels adrift.
Yilin's translation process is an intimate act of reimagining the poets' words, evoking the rhythms and nuances of their original dialects. This approach highlights the diversity within the Chinese language and the unique linguistic ties to specific regions and cultures. Her work mirrors the diaspora experience, reconstructing a poetic home that is both familiar and new, a symbolic pagoda built from words that offer reassurance and connection.
The translator's personal journey is interwoven with the histories and stories of the poets she translates. Yilin's own familial experiences, particularly the teachings of her grandmother, inspire her to seek out and give voice to women poets whose works have been overlooked or forgotten. This pursuit fills the gaps left by lost stories and unspoken histories, creating a tapestry that honors the past while speaking to present and future generations.
Yilin's dedication to translating these works is a testament to the enduring power of poetry. She likens her role to that of a nurse, gently guiding each poem through the transformative process of translation, ensuring that its essence remains intact. This careful and sensitive approach allows us to experience the resilience and adaptability of language and culture, and a tribute to the poets and translators who bridge worlds with their words.
December 10, 2024
4.5 STARS
I had my eyes on this anthology since before it came out. I had found out about it online and because I am very interested in Sinophone writing and hadn't ever really looked into poetry in translation, I knew I simply had to get this. Fortunately, when I was in Edinburgh in the summer, a book store I visited had this which I had not expected and, naturally, I had to get it.
I will forever be utterly fascinated by the intricacies and beauty of this language. I could examine the characters for ages and even with my very limited knowledge of Chinese, I tried working out how the translations differed concerning sentence structure and word choice and whether I understood some things even without the translations because, yes, of course something will always be lost in translation. I am happy to report that while I could never read any poem fully without translations, I definitely made out some interesting differences that Wang also addressed in the essay-type sections following each of the five poet's selected works.
This structure - poems and afterwards a bit of a reflection by the translator on what the poems meant to her, what was challenging to translate and how some things require a little more elaborate explanations to readers unfamiliar with the cultural and literary context - was amazing in my opinion. I feel like I gained so much more from this anthology than otherwise. Simultaneously, it made the book so much more personal and I really appreciated how this vulnerability also highlighted how personal translation is. Especially of poetry.
Now, a few words on the poems themselves. I was floored by some, others couldn't really convince me but that is the nature of literature and I had expected no less. My favorite poem from the entire collection is Zhang Qiaohui's "Tiānyī Gé, the First Library Under the Sky". It simply struck me more so than the other poems and my favorite line remains "Everything has changed and shall keep on changing, / but through books the fleeting will be preserved for eternity". Fei Ming's poems caught me off-guard a little bit but after reading Wang's comments, I suddenly appreciated them infinitely more. Dai Wangshu's poem "To Answer the Visitor with Classical Imagery" also contains a line that I had to highlight: "Where does my happiness dwell, you ask? / Upon the bright moon beyond the window, and within the books on my bedside." I don't think I have to elaborate. His poem "For Jin Kemu" was also great.
One thing I have to mention is that I really liked that the poets were not ordered chronologically, we jumped back and forth through time a little bit but that made it more interesting in my opinion. I certainly hope I will return to these poems every now and then because I really enjoyed reading them. I wish I had more time to dive into studying Mandarin more than my daily Duolingo lesson because I would love to delve into the rich tradition of Sinophone literature.
I would definitely recommend this anthology. It is so multidimensional and whether you're interested in translation, poetry or getting to know some works that are seldom translated: here is your chance. I will definitely dig a little to find more poetry translations and to find out more about the poets in this collection.
I had my eyes on this anthology since before it came out. I had found out about it online and because I am very interested in Sinophone writing and hadn't ever really looked into poetry in translation, I knew I simply had to get this. Fortunately, when I was in Edinburgh in the summer, a book store I visited had this which I had not expected and, naturally, I had to get it.
I will forever be utterly fascinated by the intricacies and beauty of this language. I could examine the characters for ages and even with my very limited knowledge of Chinese, I tried working out how the translations differed concerning sentence structure and word choice and whether I understood some things even without the translations because, yes, of course something will always be lost in translation. I am happy to report that while I could never read any poem fully without translations, I definitely made out some interesting differences that Wang also addressed in the essay-type sections following each of the five poet's selected works.
This structure - poems and afterwards a bit of a reflection by the translator on what the poems meant to her, what was challenging to translate and how some things require a little more elaborate explanations to readers unfamiliar with the cultural and literary context - was amazing in my opinion. I feel like I gained so much more from this anthology than otherwise. Simultaneously, it made the book so much more personal and I really appreciated how this vulnerability also highlighted how personal translation is. Especially of poetry.
Now, a few words on the poems themselves. I was floored by some, others couldn't really convince me but that is the nature of literature and I had expected no less. My favorite poem from the entire collection is Zhang Qiaohui's "Tiānyī Gé, the First Library Under the Sky". It simply struck me more so than the other poems and my favorite line remains "Everything has changed and shall keep on changing, / but through books the fleeting will be preserved for eternity". Fei Ming's poems caught me off-guard a little bit but after reading Wang's comments, I suddenly appreciated them infinitely more. Dai Wangshu's poem "To Answer the Visitor with Classical Imagery" also contains a line that I had to highlight: "Where does my happiness dwell, you ask? / Upon the bright moon beyond the window, and within the books on my bedside." I don't think I have to elaborate. His poem "For Jin Kemu" was also great.
One thing I have to mention is that I really liked that the poets were not ordered chronologically, we jumped back and forth through time a little bit but that made it more interesting in my opinion. I certainly hope I will return to these poems every now and then because I really enjoyed reading them. I wish I had more time to dive into studying Mandarin more than my daily Duolingo lesson because I would love to delve into the rich tradition of Sinophone literature.
I would definitely recommend this anthology. It is so multidimensional and whether you're interested in translation, poetry or getting to know some works that are seldom translated: here is your chance. I will definitely dig a little to find more poetry translations and to find out more about the poets in this collection.
June 17, 2024
Here’s my recommendation: THE LANTERN AND THE NIGHT MOTHS by Yilin Wang! This is an outstanding translated poetry book. Wang features five modern and contemporary Chinese poets and I loved how their original Chinese poems are included in this book. I really enjoyed all the poems and my faves are stars by Fei Ming and the infinite possibilities of trees by Xiao Xi. Both feature beautiful nature imagery of spring flowers and a single tree. I also loved the essays at the end of each section that added context and insight into the translation process. Wang adeptly highlights how important translations and language are to celebrate and preserve these poems. As I’m a reader only in English I’m grateful for Wang’s work to be able to read these Chinese poems. I’d love to read a full length book of essays by Wang in the future!
February 17, 2025
When I get home I'll add to this with some of my favourite picks. I loved this. Every essay was worth reading. A real delight.
My favourite:
Selling Sewing Needles, by Xiao Xi, translated by Yiiln Wang
some people advertise dream homes
promote luxury cars,
peddle sumptuous wines and meats
she's selling sewing needles.
some people deal illicit drugs
auction their kidneys off to pay for iPhones
exploit the springtime of their youth to strike it rich
she's selling sewing needles.
she lays them out slowly, without hurry
each pack complete with all the sizes large and small
each needle incredibly sharp and pointed
I want to squat down and ask: can the past be mended
can human hearts be mended
this world moves so quickly, rupturing with hundreds of holes,
is there a way to mend it?
My favourite:
Selling Sewing Needles, by Xiao Xi, translated by Yiiln Wang
some people advertise dream homes
promote luxury cars,
peddle sumptuous wines and meats
she's selling sewing needles.
some people deal illicit drugs
auction their kidneys off to pay for iPhones
exploit the springtime of their youth to strike it rich
she's selling sewing needles.
she lays them out slowly, without hurry
each pack complete with all the sizes large and small
each needle incredibly sharp and pointed
I want to squat down and ask: can the past be mended
can human hearts be mended
this world moves so quickly, rupturing with hundreds of holes,
is there a way to mend it?
April 3, 2024
If you love poetry, this is a must-read. It's a brilliantly curated selection of translated poems and a series of nonfiction pieces on why Yilin translated them/what they mean/when they were written/the history around them and their authors. Truly a sensational book. I highlighted a lot. I'm going to be thinking about these poems for a long time.
July 7, 2024
Amazing translation; coherent and rhythmically pleasing. The translator’s short essays provided additional information and context.
It also ‘highlights the voices of women poets’.
I’ve been trying and failing to enjoy contemporary poetry, so it’s a small victory that this book introduced me to some works I did enjoy.
My favourite lines:
漫云女子不英雄，万里乘风独向东。—— 秋瑾
love returns to the act of loving (爱回到爱里) —— 小西
(This translation reminds me of “love is as love does” which I still don’t fully understand)
你问我的欢乐何在？
——窗头明月枕边书。—— 戴望舒
It also ‘highlights the voices of women poets’.
I’ve been trying and failing to enjoy contemporary poetry, so it’s a small victory that this book introduced me to some works I did enjoy.
My favourite lines:
漫云女子不英雄，万里乘风独向东。—— 秋瑾
love returns to the act of loving (爱回到爱里) —— 小西
(This translation reminds me of “love is as love does” which I still don’t fully understand)
你问我的欢乐何在？
——窗头明月枕边书。—— 戴望舒
April 8, 2024
This insightful and charmingly curated collection holds a mirror up to translation as art, translator as goddess remaking worlds in a new language.
Read
April 28, 2024Please note that the EPUB version of this book is no longer being sold due to issues with the EPUB format. The book is now only available in the print format and the PDF format (sold directly by my publisher Invisible Publishing through their website).
If you try to add or review the book, and see an edition of the book listed as no longer available on Goodreads, please ensure you are looking at the paperback edition rather than the outdated EPUB. Thank you.
If you try to add or review the book, and see an edition of the book listed as no longer available on Goodreads, please ensure you are looking at the paperback edition rather than the outdated EPUB. Thank you.
February 20, 2024
Thank you to @invisibooks and @this_is_edelweiss for an eARC of The Lantern and the Night Moths, selected and translated by Yilin Wang. The book comes out April 2nd.
I enjoyed reading a book of poetry last month, so I decided to continue the trend. I’m glad I picked fascinating book. Qiu Jin, Zhang Qiaohui, Fei Ming, Xiao Xi, Dai Wangshu are the five modern and contemporary Chinese poets whose work is translated. This text is much more than a poetry book. The poems are included in Chinese and English, and then Yilin Wang offers commentary, not only on the poets but also on her own interpretations and experiences in the translating process.
I loved reading this because I reacted personally to the poems, then I read Yilin Wang’s commentary which helped me understand the cultural and historical context in a much more meaningful way. I felt like I learned as I read, and I could appreciate the poems on different levels. Also, Yilin Wang’s discussion of the act of translation and the different aspects a translator has to consider was completely fascinating.
I highly recommend this to anyone interested in poetry or in literature in translation.
I enjoyed reading a book of poetry last month, so I decided to continue the trend. I’m glad I picked fascinating book. Qiu Jin, Zhang Qiaohui, Fei Ming, Xiao Xi, Dai Wangshu are the five modern and contemporary Chinese poets whose work is translated. This text is much more than a poetry book. The poems are included in Chinese and English, and then Yilin Wang offers commentary, not only on the poets but also on her own interpretations and experiences in the translating process.
I loved reading this because I reacted personally to the poems, then I read Yilin Wang’s commentary which helped me understand the cultural and historical context in a much more meaningful way. I felt like I learned as I read, and I could appreciate the poems on different levels. Also, Yilin Wang’s discussion of the act of translation and the different aspects a translator has to consider was completely fascinating.
I highly recommend this to anyone interested in poetry or in literature in translation.
April 3, 2024
I was really looking forward to this book, but am very disappointed with the ebook's formatting and accessibility issues. As of when I'm writing this (April 2nd, 2024), font size, margin size, spacing, and page color scheme can't be changed. Pages cannot be zoomed in on like a PDF (which would've been helpful). Footnote links cannot be clicked on and text cannot be highlighted. When Chinese characters appear alongside English text they are not aligned the same (and in the footnotes, the top of the characters overlap with the bottom of the letters in lines above them).
ETA: Emailing the publisher got me a very quick reply and a functional ebook file. Supposedly the formatting issues are due to it being a fixed format epub (although I fail to see why that would break footnote links).
I really enjoyed both the poetry and essays in this book!
ETA: Emailing the publisher got me a very quick reply and a functional ebook file. Supposedly the formatting issues are due to it being a fixed format epub (although I fail to see why that would break footnote links).
I really enjoyed both the poetry and essays in this book!
September 29, 2025
4.5
I need to find a book about qiu jin’s life IMMEDIATELY
I need to find a book about qiu jin’s life IMMEDIATELY
May 5, 2024
Stunning translated anthology w commentary + cultural context that truly bring the poems to life
Read
August 29, 2024Very interesting collection of poems and I loved the section where the author talked about how they went about the translation and what was hard to translate and why and what the poems meant to her.
March 20, 2025
oh wow this made me feel insane in a good way. i read an e-book copy from the library and immediately went to buy a physical copy at my local bookstore. the way that the author describes translation and how it impacts not only their experience, but the greater human experience, is really beautiful.
January 19, 2024
Can’t wait for this to be available and delighted our Edinburgh Women in Translation reading group will be discussing the works by the women poets, especially Qiu Jin, and translated by Yilin Wang. The shocking behaviour of the British Museum and two researcher-curators in silencing Wang and Jin earlier this year makes this all the more important and exciting. Details here: https://yilinwang.com/qiu-jin-transla...
April 30, 2024
So I will readily admit that I am not much of a poetry reader. Not by lack of will, but lack of opportunity perhaps, or out of self-consciousness. You see, I learned all I know about poetry back when I was in high school, and I was fairly good at it back then – in that grandiose, emotional way that only teenagers can truly excel at, when they experience the full vastness of the world for the first time and their verses are more concerned with intensity rather than form. But I learned all of this, and wrote all of it, in French.
Now that I read primarily in English, and get most of my book recommendations from the anglosphere, I have to admit that I have shied away from poetry out of fear that I might just not get it. Are the rules the same here as they are in French? Could the style, the sensibilities, the turn of the rhymes, be so different as to be unfamiliar? How can someone truly enjoy poetry when their pronunciation of words is heavily accented at best, and they simply do not know on which syllables the emphasis should be put, therefore making concepts like “iambic pentameter” nebulously theoretical but never truly understood?
Perhaps this is why the first book of poetry I chose to read in twenty years is one that undertakes the translation between two languages so vastly different as mandarin and English. I wanted to know what survives the translation process (poetry is what survives, says Dai Wangshu). I wanted to know what can be understood when the original musicality of the words has been transformed (the soul is what the poet-translator hopes to carry across). I also wanted to know whether new meaning and new beauty can be found in the act of translation itself.
In The Lantern and the Night Moths, Yilin Wang seeks to answer that last question. Their essays on the works being presented, the poets themselves, and the process of translation are insightful and poignant, and ultimately give the reader a new and deeper understanding of the words on the page. I am not ashamed to say that I did not « get » most of the poems in the book. But the true genius of The Lantern and the Night Moths is that Wang introduces us to the idea that there is also a sort of beauty in not understanding. That is it not a failure, but rather an opportunity, because it is through the act of trying to understand that one becomes an active and thoughtful participant in the work of art being presented.
For example, as I read the first section of the book, introducing us to the poetry of Qiu Jin, I initially felt lost. I did not know this woman, she had lived a life that felt far from mine, and I could feel keenly the divide between our two worlds that even translation could not bridge. But then I kept reading, and more of Qiu Jin’s soul was revealed to me, through her own words. Then came Wang’s essay, which added even more layers of meaning and context. Suddenly now I could read through the poems again with new eyes, the world of this poet who had lived long ago now made less nebulous to me.
Further along into the book, far enough that I thought I had gotten the hang of reading it, I reached Fei Ming’s section, and once more felt as if I had absolutely no idea what was going on. But then I read the accompanying essay, aptly titled « On Fei Ming: To Translate Nothing and Everything », and I understood that the poems were supposed to make me feel like that. That the vagueness was, as they say, not a bug but a feature. And that perhaps I might feel more satisfied with these poems if I substituted the word « vagueness » with « possibilities ». I re-read the works, and now I felt that I could appreciate them for what they truly were.
Overall, the impression The Lantern and the Night Moths left me with is the feeling that there is a lot of freedom and awe to be found in beauty that one does not « get ». Must beauty be always « gotten », or is it not enough to simply witness it, and ponder upon it? Translation seems to be the art of dancing a fine line between keeping a work faithful, adding context, trusting readers, and embodying the spirit of the original intent, while also making it pleasant to read. It is not easy work and the glimpse Yilin Wang gives us of that process is as fascinating as the poems she chose to showcase.
I think I’m not done re-reading this book. I think I won’t be done for a long time.
Now that I read primarily in English, and get most of my book recommendations from the anglosphere, I have to admit that I have shied away from poetry out of fear that I might just not get it. Are the rules the same here as they are in French? Could the style, the sensibilities, the turn of the rhymes, be so different as to be unfamiliar? How can someone truly enjoy poetry when their pronunciation of words is heavily accented at best, and they simply do not know on which syllables the emphasis should be put, therefore making concepts like “iambic pentameter” nebulously theoretical but never truly understood?
Perhaps this is why the first book of poetry I chose to read in twenty years is one that undertakes the translation between two languages so vastly different as mandarin and English. I wanted to know what survives the translation process (poetry is what survives, says Dai Wangshu). I wanted to know what can be understood when the original musicality of the words has been transformed (the soul is what the poet-translator hopes to carry across). I also wanted to know whether new meaning and new beauty can be found in the act of translation itself.
In The Lantern and the Night Moths, Yilin Wang seeks to answer that last question. Their essays on the works being presented, the poets themselves, and the process of translation are insightful and poignant, and ultimately give the reader a new and deeper understanding of the words on the page. I am not ashamed to say that I did not « get » most of the poems in the book. But the true genius of The Lantern and the Night Moths is that Wang introduces us to the idea that there is also a sort of beauty in not understanding. That is it not a failure, but rather an opportunity, because it is through the act of trying to understand that one becomes an active and thoughtful participant in the work of art being presented.
For example, as I read the first section of the book, introducing us to the poetry of Qiu Jin, I initially felt lost. I did not know this woman, she had lived a life that felt far from mine, and I could feel keenly the divide between our two worlds that even translation could not bridge. But then I kept reading, and more of Qiu Jin’s soul was revealed to me, through her own words. Then came Wang’s essay, which added even more layers of meaning and context. Suddenly now I could read through the poems again with new eyes, the world of this poet who had lived long ago now made less nebulous to me.
Further along into the book, far enough that I thought I had gotten the hang of reading it, I reached Fei Ming’s section, and once more felt as if I had absolutely no idea what was going on. But then I read the accompanying essay, aptly titled « On Fei Ming: To Translate Nothing and Everything », and I understood that the poems were supposed to make me feel like that. That the vagueness was, as they say, not a bug but a feature. And that perhaps I might feel more satisfied with these poems if I substituted the word « vagueness » with « possibilities ». I re-read the works, and now I felt that I could appreciate them for what they truly were.
Overall, the impression The Lantern and the Night Moths left me with is the feeling that there is a lot of freedom and awe to be found in beauty that one does not « get ». Must beauty be always « gotten », or is it not enough to simply witness it, and ponder upon it? Translation seems to be the art of dancing a fine line between keeping a work faithful, adding context, trusting readers, and embodying the spirit of the original intent, while also making it pleasant to read. It is not easy work and the glimpse Yilin Wang gives us of that process is as fascinating as the poems she chose to showcase.
I think I’m not done re-reading this book. I think I won’t be done for a long time.
December 27, 2025
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
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WHAT'S THE PUBLISHER'S DESCRIPTION OF THE LANTERN AND THE NIGHT MOTHS?
“the lantern light seems to have written a poem;
they feel lonesome since i won’t read them.”
—“lantern” by Fei Ming
The work of Tang Dynasty Classical Chinese poets such as Li Bai, Du Fu, and Wang Wei has long been celebrated in both China and internationally, and various English translations and mistranslations of their work played a pivotal yet often unacknowledged role in shaping the emergence and evolution of modern Anglophone poetry.
In The Lantern and the Night Moths, Chinese diaspora poet-translator Yilin Wang has selected and translated poems by five of China’s most innovative modern and contemporary poets: Qiu Jin, Fei Ming, Dai Wangshu, Zhang Qiaohui, and Xiao Xi. Expanding on and subverting the long lineage of Classical Chinese poetry that precedes them, their work can be read collectively as a series of ars poeticas for modern Sinophone poetry.
Wang’s translations are featured alongside the original Chinese texts, and accompanied by Wang’s personal essays reflecting on the art, craft, and labour of poetry translation. Together, these poems and essays chart the development of a myriad of modernist poetry traditions in China that parallel, diverge from, and sometimes intersect with their Anglophone and Western counterparts.
THE POETRY
There's 28 poems (I think, I counted quickly) in this collection. Five of them I resonated with and really enjoyed—well, maybe four of them. But I "got" five. The rest of them? Not so much.
That's not to say they were bad—most of them I thought were great for 50-66% of the stanzas, and then the rest just felt like a different poem. Many of the other half/third were pretty good, too. I just didn't get what they have to do with the other stanza(s). I have to say that I found that incredibly frustrating.
Chinese poetry shouldn't work like Western poetry—I wouldn't want it to. I want it to seem strange—and these succeeded in that. But (beyond the bits I didn't get), the collection and individual poems felt more "other" than I anticipated, which struck me as a positive and a negative.
THE ESSAYS
The first couple of these were a lot more personal than I assumed they'd be, given the description of the book. I found that a little off-putting, to be honest. The first essay, in fact, made me wonder how much Wang was translating and how much she was trying to do something else—maybe even paraphrasing.
But the latter essays clicked with me, and I really appreciated Wang describing some of her choices, some alternative ways she could've translated something, and why she opted for the direction she did. I learned a lot and appreciated the practically-impossible task she took on by translating these poems.
SO, WHAT DID I THINK OF THE LANTERN AND THE NIGHT MOTHS?
This is not going to go down as one of my favorite poetry collections, period. I do think I would return to four of these poems (and yes, I have a list for future use).
That said, this was simply fascinating as an experience—to read a poem (and to look at the Chinese original and boggle at how those characters become the English versions) and then to read about the impact they made on this poet/translator and some of the choices made to get it into a format that English readers can appreciate. It's something I know I'm not going to see often (if ever).
People more in tune with translation, poetry, or Chinese culture will appreciate and enjoy this more than I did. But I'm so glad that I read this—and that Shannon Knight recommended it to me. The reading of this book is an experience that I relished.
---
WHAT'S THE PUBLISHER'S DESCRIPTION OF THE LANTERN AND THE NIGHT MOTHS?
“the lantern light seems to have written a poem;
they feel lonesome since i won’t read them.”
—“lantern” by Fei Ming
The work of Tang Dynasty Classical Chinese poets such as Li Bai, Du Fu, and Wang Wei has long been celebrated in both China and internationally, and various English translations and mistranslations of their work played a pivotal yet often unacknowledged role in shaping the emergence and evolution of modern Anglophone poetry.
In The Lantern and the Night Moths, Chinese diaspora poet-translator Yilin Wang has selected and translated poems by five of China’s most innovative modern and contemporary poets: Qiu Jin, Fei Ming, Dai Wangshu, Zhang Qiaohui, and Xiao Xi. Expanding on and subverting the long lineage of Classical Chinese poetry that precedes them, their work can be read collectively as a series of ars poeticas for modern Sinophone poetry.
Wang’s translations are featured alongside the original Chinese texts, and accompanied by Wang’s personal essays reflecting on the art, craft, and labour of poetry translation. Together, these poems and essays chart the development of a myriad of modernist poetry traditions in China that parallel, diverge from, and sometimes intersect with their Anglophone and Western counterparts.
THE POETRY
There's 28 poems (I think, I counted quickly) in this collection. Five of them I resonated with and really enjoyed—well, maybe four of them. But I "got" five. The rest of them? Not so much.
That's not to say they were bad—most of them I thought were great for 50-66% of the stanzas, and then the rest just felt like a different poem. Many of the other half/third were pretty good, too. I just didn't get what they have to do with the other stanza(s). I have to say that I found that incredibly frustrating.
Chinese poetry shouldn't work like Western poetry—I wouldn't want it to. I want it to seem strange—and these succeeded in that. But (beyond the bits I didn't get), the collection and individual poems felt more "other" than I anticipated, which struck me as a positive and a negative.
THE ESSAYS
The first couple of these were a lot more personal than I assumed they'd be, given the description of the book. I found that a little off-putting, to be honest. The first essay, in fact, made me wonder how much Wang was translating and how much she was trying to do something else—maybe even paraphrasing.
But the latter essays clicked with me, and I really appreciated Wang describing some of her choices, some alternative ways she could've translated something, and why she opted for the direction she did. I learned a lot and appreciated the practically-impossible task she took on by translating these poems.
SO, WHAT DID I THINK OF THE LANTERN AND THE NIGHT MOTHS?
This is not going to go down as one of my favorite poetry collections, period. I do think I would return to four of these poems (and yes, I have a list for future use).
That said, this was simply fascinating as an experience—to read a poem (and to look at the Chinese original and boggle at how those characters become the English versions) and then to read about the impact they made on this poet/translator and some of the choices made to get it into a format that English readers can appreciate. It's something I know I'm not going to see often (if ever).
People more in tune with translation, poetry, or Chinese culture will appreciate and enjoy this more than I did. But I'm so glad that I read this—and that Shannon Knight recommended it to me. The reading of this book is an experience that I relished.
May 30, 2024
In The Lantern and the Night Moths, Yilin Wang has given poetry enthusiasts much to appreciate and a lot of important takeaways for those of us who are still familiarizing ourselves with poetry and the particular challenges of literary translation. While I'm an occasional, irregular reader of poetry, I've spent enough time learning other languages, teaching English as a second language, and reading about modern Chinese history to appreciate the work Wang has put into both her translations of these works and her commentaries on them. While there were a few cases in which I was surprised by Wang's translation/writing decisions, these decisions are justified through a clear ethos with respect to literary translation and are firmly grounded in Wang's lived experiences as a member of the Chinese diaspora.
The Lantern and the Night Moths consists of collected works from five different modern Chinese poets, followed by Wang's commentaries and footnotes. What follows are my general impressions of Wang's curation and translation of each body of work:
Qiu Jin 秋瑾 (1875-1907): I can see why Wang started with Qiu Jin's work. Not only is Qiu Jin considerably less well known than her contemporaries, but she has a fascinating personal history as a revolutionary figure (and gender nonconformist) in the end days of China's last dynasty. Wang's personal connection with Qiu Jin's life and work is also abundantly clear. Overall, this section was a delight to read.
Zhang Qiaohui 张巧慧 (1978-): Out of the five sub-collections here, I found Zhang's works to be the most evocative, at least in translation. The poems exhibited here are given plenty of substance through particular cultural references, and the themes are timeless and poignant. There's a lot in here about the grief and growing pains of being forced to move from one life to another, whether through immigrant experiences or through being swept up in tumultuous changes in the world around you.
Fei Ming 废名 (1901-1967): Wang characterizes Fei Ming's work as particularly esoteric; I agree. Even being familiar with some of the bits of Chinese philosophy and culture referenced in these works, I found them rather opaque. A reader with a stronger background in poetry (and particulars of Chinese culture) will get more out of this set of works.
Xiao Xi 小西 (1974-): I honestly found the poems-in-translation here a little lackluster, yet Wang's reflections on the experience and process of translating these works gave me lots to chew on and should be essential reading for those interested in literary/artistic translation. Sometimes particular connotations and culture-specific emotional experiences really can't be transferred smoothly into another language, and Wang is upfront about the challenges present in working with these poems.
Dai Wangshu 戴望舒 (1905-1950): Putting Dai Wangshu's works after Xiao Xi's is a thoughtful choice on Wang's part, as Wang explains how Dai, a scholar and translator himself, spent some time refuting the notion that poetry is untranslatable. Personally, I'm fond of any writing that opens me up to one set of conclusions and then compels me to question those some conclusions later. Wang's commentary on Dai's work elevates the intellectual richness of this book.
The Lantern and the Night Moths consists of collected works from five different modern Chinese poets, followed by Wang's commentaries and footnotes. What follows are my general impressions of Wang's curation and translation of each body of work:
Qiu Jin 秋瑾 (1875-1907): I can see why Wang started with Qiu Jin's work. Not only is Qiu Jin considerably less well known than her contemporaries, but she has a fascinating personal history as a revolutionary figure (and gender nonconformist) in the end days of China's last dynasty. Wang's personal connection with Qiu Jin's life and work is also abundantly clear. Overall, this section was a delight to read.
Zhang Qiaohui 张巧慧 (1978-): Out of the five sub-collections here, I found Zhang's works to be the most evocative, at least in translation. The poems exhibited here are given plenty of substance through particular cultural references, and the themes are timeless and poignant. There's a lot in here about the grief and growing pains of being forced to move from one life to another, whether through immigrant experiences or through being swept up in tumultuous changes in the world around you.
Fei Ming 废名 (1901-1967): Wang characterizes Fei Ming's work as particularly esoteric; I agree. Even being familiar with some of the bits of Chinese philosophy and culture referenced in these works, I found them rather opaque. A reader with a stronger background in poetry (and particulars of Chinese culture) will get more out of this set of works.
Xiao Xi 小西 (1974-): I honestly found the poems-in-translation here a little lackluster, yet Wang's reflections on the experience and process of translating these works gave me lots to chew on and should be essential reading for those interested in literary/artistic translation. Sometimes particular connotations and culture-specific emotional experiences really can't be transferred smoothly into another language, and Wang is upfront about the challenges present in working with these poems.
Dai Wangshu 戴望舒 (1905-1950): Putting Dai Wangshu's works after Xiao Xi's is a thoughtful choice on Wang's part, as Wang explains how Dai, a scholar and translator himself, spent some time refuting the notion that poetry is untranslatable. Personally, I'm fond of any writing that opens me up to one set of conclusions and then compels me to question those some conclusions later. Wang's commentary on Dai's work elevates the intellectual richness of this book.
June 12, 2025
I didn’t expect to finish this book in a day. really, really beautiful poetry, beautifully translated, and what pushes this to a 5 star book instead of just 4 is the excellent little reflective essay that comes at the end of every chapter by the translator. wang does so well to provide the additional context behind the poem, illuminate her translation choices, and show connections between her own lives and reflections with those of her poets. i would read the poems, then read her essay, and then go back to read the poems again and find that i gained a brand new appreciation for them. excellent excellent stuff.
my favourite poems:
Qiu Jin’s “Inscription On My Tiny Portrait (in Men’s Clothes)”: Qiu Jin explores breaking gender roles, cross-dressing, and embodying queerness in a trailblazing way. while Qiu is a queer and feminist legend of modern China, her poems are less famous
Zhang Qiaohui’s “Tiānyī Gé, the First Library Under the Sky”: a beautiful poem that becomes even more beautiful after reading Wang’s essay, based on the folk tale of a woman who does everything she can to enter the library, and eventually reincarnates into a plant in said library, and spends her life in reverence of books she can never read
Fei Ming’s “lantern”: a poem that really speaks to me about the ordinary and the mundane. beautiful lines like “reading late at night / i set aside my copy of laozi’s dào dé jīng, / as if i have tossed away the auspicious and regrettable outcomes in life” and “the lantern light seems to have written a poem”
Xiao Xi’s “the car is backing up, please pay attention”: probably my favourite in the entire collection. Wang laments that there is an element of this poem in Chinese that cannot be captured in translation: the repetition of the word zhù yì, whose meaning shifts as the Chinese poem goes along, but there is no direct equivalent in English that can capture all senses of the word. beautiful to read in Chinese, beautiful to read in English, and although Wang claims she cannot encapsulate everything (which i agree, tbf), she does a great job.
Dai Wangshu’s “For Jin Kemu”: it was close between this and the car poem for my favourite. What a banger line to start the poem: “I don’t understand why some people feel the urge / to give unnecessary names to celestial objects” begins a poem about the infinite, vast world and our smallness in it. we gaze and gaze at the universe that resists being named and tamed and known to us. the poem progresses beautifully, and ends with this banger where the persona learns from the universe and resists being categorised themselves: “Or I shall become a strange and peculiar comet, / pausing in space as I please, and travelling as I please, / so no one can calculate my trajectory, or see through my logic. / Then I shall shatter the sun into broken fire, smash planet Earth into mud.” Ahhhh!!!!
my favourite poems:
Qiu Jin’s “Inscription On My Tiny Portrait (in Men’s Clothes)”: Qiu Jin explores breaking gender roles, cross-dressing, and embodying queerness in a trailblazing way. while Qiu is a queer and feminist legend of modern China, her poems are less famous
Zhang Qiaohui’s “Tiānyī Gé, the First Library Under the Sky”: a beautiful poem that becomes even more beautiful after reading Wang’s essay, based on the folk tale of a woman who does everything she can to enter the library, and eventually reincarnates into a plant in said library, and spends her life in reverence of books she can never read
Fei Ming’s “lantern”: a poem that really speaks to me about the ordinary and the mundane. beautiful lines like “reading late at night / i set aside my copy of laozi’s dào dé jīng, / as if i have tossed away the auspicious and regrettable outcomes in life” and “the lantern light seems to have written a poem”
Xiao Xi’s “the car is backing up, please pay attention”: probably my favourite in the entire collection. Wang laments that there is an element of this poem in Chinese that cannot be captured in translation: the repetition of the word zhù yì, whose meaning shifts as the Chinese poem goes along, but there is no direct equivalent in English that can capture all senses of the word. beautiful to read in Chinese, beautiful to read in English, and although Wang claims she cannot encapsulate everything (which i agree, tbf), she does a great job.
Dai Wangshu’s “For Jin Kemu”: it was close between this and the car poem for my favourite. What a banger line to start the poem: “I don’t understand why some people feel the urge / to give unnecessary names to celestial objects” begins a poem about the infinite, vast world and our smallness in it. we gaze and gaze at the universe that resists being named and tamed and known to us. the poem progresses beautifully, and ends with this banger where the persona learns from the universe and resists being categorised themselves: “Or I shall become a strange and peculiar comet, / pausing in space as I please, and travelling as I please, / so no one can calculate my trajectory, or see through my logic. / Then I shall shatter the sun into broken fire, smash planet Earth into mud.” Ahhhh!!!!
November 12, 2024
“The Lantern and The Night Moths” is a beautifully curated collection that brings the readers into the world of modern and contemporary Chinese poetry. The five poets selected (Qiu Jin秋瑾, Zhang Qiaohui张巧慧, Fei Ming废名, Xiao Xi小西 and Dai Wangshu戴望舒) each represent different eras and stylistic approaches, providing readers with a panoramic view of Chinese poetic innovation and evolution.
This anthology provides original Chinese text alongside English translations, which surely enhances the reader's appreciation of language and craft.
Personally I enjoyed the most Reflections by Qiu Jin, The floating dust of the mortal realm by Fei Ming, but the poem that deeply impressed me was Night Moths by Dai Wangshu. I want to emphasise that this is only upon the first reading, because that is exactly the beauty of the poetry (and this anthology is no exception) - every time a reader returns to it, every new reading will lead to discovering new layers of meaning and beauty.
One of the standout features of this anthology is Yilin’s insightful commentary that accompanies each translation, offering readers valuable context and enhancing their understanding and appreciation of the works. These annotations reveal her deep respect for and knowledge of Chinese literary traditions, as well as her commitment to bringing these significant voices to a broader audience.
I was very moved by the deeply emotional letter to Qiu Jin where Yilin reminisces about her first encounter with Qiu Jin’s poetry, up to the awful experience and exhausting battle with the British Museum. Her notes about the translating process are also a significant part of this collection. Reading about all the struggles, doubts and insecurities she experienced while translating these poems was impressive and inspiring. If you have a doubt about the future of literary translators in this fast pacing-AI surging in every aspect of life/work world, I recommend that you carefully read these annotations and you will quickly realise that no machine could ever substitute a human in translating emotions, ideas and intricate meanings of a literary work.
“The Lantern and The Night Moths” stands as an important contribution to the field of translated literature, showing Yilin Wang’s exceptional talent as a translator and curator of poetic treasures. Whether you are a fan of Chinese poetry or a newcomer eager to explore its depths, this collection promises to enlighten, provoke, and inspire.
This anthology provides original Chinese text alongside English translations, which surely enhances the reader's appreciation of language and craft.
Personally I enjoyed the most Reflections by Qiu Jin, The floating dust of the mortal realm by Fei Ming, but the poem that deeply impressed me was Night Moths by Dai Wangshu. I want to emphasise that this is only upon the first reading, because that is exactly the beauty of the poetry (and this anthology is no exception) - every time a reader returns to it, every new reading will lead to discovering new layers of meaning and beauty.
One of the standout features of this anthology is Yilin’s insightful commentary that accompanies each translation, offering readers valuable context and enhancing their understanding and appreciation of the works. These annotations reveal her deep respect for and knowledge of Chinese literary traditions, as well as her commitment to bringing these significant voices to a broader audience.
I was very moved by the deeply emotional letter to Qiu Jin where Yilin reminisces about her first encounter with Qiu Jin’s poetry, up to the awful experience and exhausting battle with the British Museum. Her notes about the translating process are also a significant part of this collection. Reading about all the struggles, doubts and insecurities she experienced while translating these poems was impressive and inspiring. If you have a doubt about the future of literary translators in this fast pacing-AI surging in every aspect of life/work world, I recommend that you carefully read these annotations and you will quickly realise that no machine could ever substitute a human in translating emotions, ideas and intricate meanings of a literary work.
“The Lantern and The Night Moths” stands as an important contribution to the field of translated literature, showing Yilin Wang’s exceptional talent as a translator and curator of poetic treasures. Whether you are a fan of Chinese poetry or a newcomer eager to explore its depths, this collection promises to enlighten, provoke, and inspire.
March 22, 2024
The Lantern and the Night Moths is a collection of modern and contemporary Chinese poetry and essays. I've started reading poetry more on a daily basis, but I really haven't read much Chinese poetry, so I was excited to read this collection. I'm really glad I did so.
The poems were selected and translated by Yilin Wang. And the poems featured are from five modern and contemporary Chinese poets (the poems by Qiu Jin and Xiao Xi were personal favorites. Also if you're unfamiliar with Qiu Jin, you should read about her! She was a fascinating revolutionary and writer). The poems are beautiful and moving, but what makes this collection truly memorable are the essays by Yilin. As I've started reading more poetry collections, I've noticed that many collections lack any kind of context regarding the poems themselves. You don't need historical or emotional context to enjoy poetry, but because these poems were translated into English from Chinese, and because the poets featured are Chinese poets who I'm not familiar with, the essays provided incredible context that helped me develop a deeper appreciation for the selected poems.
Yilin explored the translation process for each poem (translation is such an art form, especially when translating from Chinese to English, and I didn't really understand that before reading this collection), and she also offered context regarding the background for each poet, their particular approaches or styles of poetry, and also what these poems mean to her--it's that latter aspect that was really impactful emotionally. Yilin writes beautifully, and the essays included are poems themselves, but they also gave me the tools I needed to re-read the poems and develop my own understanding of them based on the cultural, historical, linguistic, and emotional perspectives that Yilin shared in her essays. For me, this collection was ideal, because it provided an excellent introduction to Chinese poetry, and it also helped me develop a new appreciation for the art of translation. I feel like I have the proper perspective, and mindset, to begin exploring more Chinese poetry, thanks to Yilin.
The poems were selected and translated by Yilin Wang. And the poems featured are from five modern and contemporary Chinese poets (the poems by Qiu Jin and Xiao Xi were personal favorites. Also if you're unfamiliar with Qiu Jin, you should read about her! She was a fascinating revolutionary and writer). The poems are beautiful and moving, but what makes this collection truly memorable are the essays by Yilin. As I've started reading more poetry collections, I've noticed that many collections lack any kind of context regarding the poems themselves. You don't need historical or emotional context to enjoy poetry, but because these poems were translated into English from Chinese, and because the poets featured are Chinese poets who I'm not familiar with, the essays provided incredible context that helped me develop a deeper appreciation for the selected poems.
Yilin explored the translation process for each poem (translation is such an art form, especially when translating from Chinese to English, and I didn't really understand that before reading this collection), and she also offered context regarding the background for each poet, their particular approaches or styles of poetry, and also what these poems mean to her--it's that latter aspect that was really impactful emotionally. Yilin writes beautifully, and the essays included are poems themselves, but they also gave me the tools I needed to re-read the poems and develop my own understanding of them based on the cultural, historical, linguistic, and emotional perspectives that Yilin shared in her essays. For me, this collection was ideal, because it provided an excellent introduction to Chinese poetry, and it also helped me develop a new appreciation for the art of translation. I feel like I have the proper perspective, and mindset, to begin exploring more Chinese poetry, thanks to Yilin.
April 2, 2024
"The wistful longings of clouds and trees extend on and on.
The Xiāng River’s currents flow, heartless and cold.
A mountain in between us, the distance so vast.
When will we finally reunite as we yearn to?
Holding an ink brush between my teeth, I mull over words,
fretting late into the night as the water clock drips on."
- excerpt from "Púsāmán: To a Female Friend" (Qiu Jin, transl. by Yilin Wang)
The Lantern and The Nights Moths is an anthology bringing together five different contemporary Chinese poets - covering quite a big timeframe as the oldest was born in 1875 and the youngest in 1978.
Each of the poets (Qiu Jin, Zhang Qiaohui, Fei Ming, Xiao Xi, Dai Wangshu) is represented by a handful of poems carefully selected and translated by Yilin Wang. But even more: After each poet's poems there is an essay by poet-translator Yilin Wang sharing their own connection to the poet, their translating process and vital historical, cultural as well as literary context. These essays vary in form and focus, but are all enriching the reading experience of the poems immensely (even though the poems themselves (which are always printed in Chinese and Yilin Wang's English translation) are wonderful to read on their own).
While I really enjoyed getting to know all these poets and Yilin Wang's thoughts on translating them, my favourite might have been the feminist writer Qiu Jin (1875–1907). The essay on Qiu Jin felt so direct and personal as it is written in letter form adressing the author thinking about queerness, queerplatonic soulmates and gender expressions (one of Qiu Jin's poems is called "Inscription on My Tiny Portrait (in Men’s Clothes)" - and how these things traverse from the 19th to the 21st century and in reverse. An intellectual and emotional delight to read.
The Xiāng River’s currents flow, heartless and cold.
A mountain in between us, the distance so vast.
When will we finally reunite as we yearn to?
Holding an ink brush between my teeth, I mull over words,
fretting late into the night as the water clock drips on."
- excerpt from "Púsāmán: To a Female Friend" (Qiu Jin, transl. by Yilin Wang)
The Lantern and The Nights Moths is an anthology bringing together five different contemporary Chinese poets - covering quite a big timeframe as the oldest was born in 1875 and the youngest in 1978.
Each of the poets (Qiu Jin, Zhang Qiaohui, Fei Ming, Xiao Xi, Dai Wangshu) is represented by a handful of poems carefully selected and translated by Yilin Wang. But even more: After each poet's poems there is an essay by poet-translator Yilin Wang sharing their own connection to the poet, their translating process and vital historical, cultural as well as literary context. These essays vary in form and focus, but are all enriching the reading experience of the poems immensely (even though the poems themselves (which are always printed in Chinese and Yilin Wang's English translation) are wonderful to read on their own).
While I really enjoyed getting to know all these poets and Yilin Wang's thoughts on translating them, my favourite might have been the feminist writer Qiu Jin (1875–1907). The essay on Qiu Jin felt so direct and personal as it is written in letter form adressing the author thinking about queerness, queerplatonic soulmates and gender expressions (one of Qiu Jin's poems is called "Inscription on My Tiny Portrait (in Men’s Clothes)" - and how these things traverse from the 19th to the 21st century and in reverse. An intellectual and emotional delight to read.
July 26, 2024
The Lantern and The Night Moths is a truly stunning collection of poetry in translation by Yilin Wang. Works from 5 Chinese poets spanning the past century or so, there’s a wonderful variety on display here. Each poet’s work is accompanied with a short essay that delves into a little of the poet’s individual history, but also offers insights into the translation process that I found fascinating and enlightening.
My favourites were probably among Dai Wangshu’s work, particularly Night Moths and Autumn Night Reflections. They embody a kind of simple elegance that actually permeates the collection as a whole, across all 5 poets. Largely rid of what I might personally ordinarily recognise as poetic structures, metre, and techniques, my mind therefore has to focus on the words themselves and what they’re saying. In that, the wisdom of the poets comes through. Which, I might add, really shows what a triumph of translation the works are.
So, overall, I can’t recommend these collected works highly enough.
My favourites were probably among Dai Wangshu’s work, particularly Night Moths and Autumn Night Reflections. They embody a kind of simple elegance that actually permeates the collection as a whole, across all 5 poets. Largely rid of what I might personally ordinarily recognise as poetic structures, metre, and techniques, my mind therefore has to focus on the words themselves and what they’re saying. In that, the wisdom of the poets comes through. Which, I might add, really shows what a triumph of translation the works are.
So, overall, I can’t recommend these collected works highly enough.
April 24, 2024
|| THE LANTERN AND THE NIGHT MOTHS || #gifted @yilinwriter @invisibooks
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I highly reccomend this beautiful collection of translated poems. This was my first time experiencing a whole collection of translated poetry and I absolutely adored it! Yilin Wang selected five Chinese poets to translate, I hadn't heard of these poets before and several poems resonated, especially the nature ones. I loved that women poets were the focus. The short essays afterwards were so illuminating and beautifully written. About the reasons these poets were selected, the fine art and love of translation, language and connection. With themes of identity and belonging, Chinese diaspora, language, and survival.
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For more of my book content check out instagram.com/bookalong
✍🏻
I highly reccomend this beautiful collection of translated poems. This was my first time experiencing a whole collection of translated poetry and I absolutely adored it! Yilin Wang selected five Chinese poets to translate, I hadn't heard of these poets before and several poems resonated, especially the nature ones. I loved that women poets were the focus. The short essays afterwards were so illuminating and beautifully written. About the reasons these poets were selected, the fine art and love of translation, language and connection. With themes of identity and belonging, Chinese diaspora, language, and survival.
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.
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For more of my book content check out instagram.com/bookalong
March 20, 2024
This collection of poetry and personal essays is absolutely wonderful. I adore being exposed to poetry of which I know little, and certainly Chinese poetry of the late 19th and early 20th centuries applies to my own reading experience. The selection of poets Wang gives us covers a wide and beautiful range of human experience, emotion, and observation of the world. It's an inspired effort of translation by Wang, accompanied by her own thoughtful and heartfelt considerations of each poet, their life, and the personal significance of their work to Wang. Overall, "The Lantern and the Night Moths" is a beautiful melding of the poetic and the personal.
March 24, 2024
Yilin Wang’s evocative translations bring five modern Chinese poets to a larger (and grateful) English audience, but her interspersed meditations on the translation process I would argue are just as valuable to both a lay readership as well as other writing folks. Translators serve a vital and often overlooked role in publishing, and highlighting her own work will hopefully bring more talented night moths like Wang into the public consciousness.
April 28, 2024
Yilin Wang’s walks us along a journey through time space with stops at the rage of a woman not allowed to thrive, young men experiencing culture and philosophy of other worlds, and the modern world sitting atop an old one in many places at once.
An outstanding work of poetry and essay writing. Yilin Wang’s translation notes enrich the experience and make us feel how close we are to the writers.
An outstanding work of poetry and essay writing. Yilin Wang’s translation notes enrich the experience and make us feel how close we are to the writers.
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