Summer 2007
 
 

CONTENTS

 
  YOUNG MAN SIBAO 少年西寶
   By CHIANG Hsun 蔣勳
   Translated by Shou-Fang HU-MOORE 胡守芳
 
  SHITTY TEACHER 大便老師
   By HUANG Chun-ming 黃春明
   Translated by Carlos. G. TEE 鄭永康
 
  “LITTLE PENDANT” AND HER STUDENTS
扇墜兒和她的學生

   By Hsin-pin TIEN 田新彬
   Translated by Daniel J. BAUER 鮑端磊
 
  TSAILIAO 菜寮
   By Fu CHANG 張復
   Translated by James Scott WILLIAMS 衛高翔
 
  LENTISSIMO 最慢板
   By ChenDa LU 呂政達
   Translated by Michelle Min-chia WU 吳敏嘉
 
  CLOUDS/TREES 雲樹
   By Yin Dih 隱地
   Translated by John J. S. BALCOM 陶忘機
 
  WORRIES 心事二寫
   By Hsin Yu 辛鬱
   Translated by John J. S. BALCOM 陶忘機
 
  LETTER FROM THE SEASIDE 海邊的信
   BY CHEN I-chih 陳義芝
   Translated by Chris Wen-Chao LI 李文肇
 
  LAMENT 哀歌
   BY CHEN I-chih 陳義芝
   Translated by Chris Wen-Chao LI 李文肇
 
  TO EXPRESS IT IN A DIFFERENT WAY 換一個說法
By CHEN Yu-hong 陳育虹
   Translated by Karen Steffen CHUNG 史嘉琳
 
  JENNY CHEN’S WORLD OF COLORS—
AN INTRODUCTION 陳張莉的彩色世界

By Jonathan GOODMAN 強納森‧古德曼
 
  THE POETICS OF THE RAINBOW AND THE CITY OF COLOR— JENNY CHEN’S PAINTINGS FROM 1997 TO 2002 虹彩詩歌與色彩因子的城市─陳張莉1997 至2002 年的新作
   By Victoria LU 陸蓉之
   Translated by Lih-been CHOU 周立本
 
  JENNY CHEN: BLACK AND WHITE 陳張莉:黑與白
   By Jonathan GOODMAN 強納森‧古德曼
 
  NEWS & EVENTS 文化活動
   Compiled by Sarah Jen-hui HSIANG 項人慧
 
  NEW BOOKS BY OUR MEMBERS 會員新書
 
  NOTES ON AUTHORS AND TRANSLATORS
作者與譯者簡介
 
  APPENDIX : CHINESE ORIGINALS 附錄 :中文原著
 
  REPRESENTATION OF PHENOMENON 2002-B 因子的再現2002-B,
acrylic on canvas, 36 × 48”, 2002 ..................COVER
 
  VOICES OF NATURE 06-14 自然之音06-14,
acrylic on canvas, 48 × 60”, 2006.......BACK COVER
   By Jenny CHEN 陳張莉

 

CHIANG Hsun 蔣勳

YOUNG MAN SIBAO 少年西寶*

Translated by Shou-Fang HU-MOORE 胡守芳


     He has been to Tianhsiang, but feels there are too many tourists and the place too boisterous. He carries his backpack and walks further uphill
     Tiers of mountains surround the valley. The Liwu River can be seen from a long way above, winding through hills like a silver- white ribbon. It also resembles a silver-white snake wriggling intensely, seeming to be looking for some way out.
     It has just cleared up after raining for a day. Mist patches rise from the valley. With the wind blowing, the mist moves rapidly, like layer upon layer of sheer fabrics covering the mountains, creating rich shades of green.
     The sky is very blue and bright, having just been washed by the rain. Several patches of white clouds are floating on the expansive blue sky.
     White clouds are different from the mist, despite both being water vapor. Clouds group together like thick cotton, dense enough to block the sunlight, casting a cloud-shaped shadow over the entire green mountain range.
     The mist is so thin that the light is able to go through it. It roams around the mountains, making their shapes and colors vaguely visible, creating a kind of lighthearted beauty.
     He lays the backpack on the roadside. This section of the mountain road is particularly steep. His forehead feels slightly burnt under the sun. He undoes the upper buttons by the collar to let the cool wind enter, sweeping through his chest, armpits and around the sides to his back. His shirt bulges out like a fullblown sail. He stretches his arms as if he were flying. The wind sneaks out quietly from the cuffs while the sleeves flap vigorously against his dark strong arms.
     He likes the mountains in this region. Winds from all directions seem to converge here.
     Right at this hillside terrace where the mountain road turns, one can overlook Tianhsiang down below, where there are too many tourists gathering and making too much noise. One can also command the view of the valley deeper down, look straight at the interconnecting mountain ridges, or up towards the clear blue sky.
     “360-degree view, —” He recalls the awkward plebeian wording of a real estate advertisement.
     After graduating from university, he took an odd job in a real estate company for a short period of time. He would hear strange depictive words every day but never understood why it was necessary to use such flashy untruthful language to describe things.
     “This island of ours is a place selling cheap dreams....” Hearing his complaint, Fu-mei, who has been in the real estate business for a long time, said with a sigh, “What can you do? Consumers want cheap dreams!”
     He didn’t say anything. He was nibbling at her nipples, sucking them gently. He looked at her breast which was shaped like a yellow peach. The nipple resembled a fruit pedicel and the areola around it was dotted with tiny brown buds.
     He turned around, staring into Fu-mei’s big bright eyes, and asked, “Are you really from the Taroko tribe?”
     “Yes!” said Fu-mei while caressing her sturdy kneecaps. “My family lives in Sibao. Have you ever heard of the place?”
     “Sibao...” he shook his head and smiled while removing Fu-mei’s hand from his groin.
     (His manhood wet with semen was shrinking and falling asleep. He moved the woman’s flirtatious fingers away perhaps because he didn’t want to wake it up so soon.)
     “Sibao,” she climbed onto him while he lay face up with hands behind his head. Seeing the thick black hair under his armpit showing, Fu-mei started to fondle it.
     “I’ll call you Sibao. Doesn’t it sound good? It sounds better than all the names I’ve given to those ugly real estate properties.”
     She chortled with mirth, as if she couldn’t help it once the real estate ads she had been peddling for years entered her mind.
     He had read Fu-mei’s sales record before. She made promotional advertisements for quite a few large buildings at a riverside community. The apartments there sold very well. Every time she made a sale, her boss would open champagne to celebrate. (Champagne in paper cups, that is. Her superior would congratulate Fu-mei while holding a piece of crispy salty chicken in one hand and a paper cup of champagne in the other. They would call her by her English name and say, “Congratulations, Amy! You’re very creative!”)
     “Creative,” he rolled on his sides with laughter. Fu-mei glared at him, pretending to be angry.
     “Am I not creative? What are you laughing about?” Fu-mei started hitting his groin.
     The young man quickly protected it with his hands while shaking with laughter.
     Afterwards, he sat up and held Fu-mei in his arms. Flipping through her sales record, he commented seriously, “Where’s the creativity?” He flipped one page. “Just because it’s at the riverside, so you call it ‘Mediterranean’?”
     He flipped another page and said, “See, another riverside location, so it’s called ‘Caribbean’?”
     Then he flipped another page. “Wow, it’s absolutely amazing! Riverside location again, so you named it ‘Po-Shi Bay’.”
     He couldn’t help bursting into laughter again, while holding a pillow in his chest to escape Fu-mei’s wild fist attack.
     “Why isn’t it creativity? I’ve changed ‘Persian Gulf’ to ‘Po-shi Bay’ (Waves and Poetry Bay). Why is it not creativity! When the fighting in the Persian Gulf was extremely intense,...


From Lien-ho wen-hsueh 《聯合文學》(UNITAS: A Literary Monthly), Vol. 267, January, 2007. pp.6~9.


All Trademarks are registered. ©2005 Taipei Chinese Center All rights reserved. Best viewed with IE and Netscape browser.