THIRTEEN DYNASTIES
by Laura Ma
Chinese poetry is a dance with the shadows and the
crescent moon, a jar of osmanthus wine dangling
from drunken fingertips, drops of apricot and honey
swirling onto muddied spring petals. It is
the song of a hero, a vigilante, a 侠客1 wandering
the rainy streets of 江南2, following the glow of
fishermen’s lanterns through the Yangtze river mist -
a flute, a sword hanging from his waist as he hums
operas from tea houses and tragedies from storytellers’ lips.
Chinese poetry is the sighing of palace maids who
sit on the steps of the servant’s quarters, dreaming of
a life outside red pillars and golden rooftops as they gaze at
the silver river that brushes across the stars, and as they think of
lovers that meet there on the wings of magpies every July.
Chinese poetry are the hushed whispers of last nights together before
the war, promising to return to the embraces
of each other or vowing to reunite in fields of spider lilies in
the afterlife. It is the white hair of the poet who
walks through one burnt village after the next, clutching
the only letter from home. It is the buzzing of cicada songs
as students travel to the capital to take the imperial
exam; the cadence of mothers weaving robes for their sons’
journeys and so many fathers’ bittersweet, yet steady digging
of ⼥⼉红3 from the cellar for their daughters’ weddings.
Chinese poetry is the autumn regret of an imprisoned lord
who reminisces his fallen kingdom, and it is the farewell march
of an assassin that marches towards death.
中国古诗是每年冬天盛开
⼗三代的梅花4
even when
all other flowers
have withered.
–
1 a wanderer in historical fiction who usually wields a sword and operates outside the law with their own morals, using martial arts to deliver justice (Mandarin)2 “River South”, or the region in China south of the Yangtze River, considered to be ancient China’s cultural hub for aesthetics and academia (Mandarin)
3 a special type of wine that is traditionally buried into an underground cellar upon a daughter’s birth and will be taken out for drinking on her wedding day (Mandarin)
4 Chinese poetry are the plum blossoms that bloom every winter for thirteen dynasties (Mandarin)
Laura Ma is a 17-year-old young writer from the San Francisco Bay Area. An alumna of the School of New York Times’s Creative Writing program, her poetry has been recognized by the New York Times, the Alliance of Young Artists and Writers, and will be forthcoming in the Paracosm Literary Journal. She loves learning old Chinese poems, and she is currently taking her fifth year of French at school. On a weekend, you can find her listening to anime soundtracks and wishing that it would rain. Find her on Twitter @goldenhr3.