- (Posted 2017-12-22) CPDL #48125:
- Editor: Frances Matthews (submitted 2017-12-22). Score information: A4, 9 pages, 471 kB Copyright: CPDL
Title: Yu Jia Ao (魚家傲)
Composer: Frances Matthews
Lyricist: Li Qingzhao (李清照)
Number of voices: 8vv Voicing: SATB.SATB
Genre: Secular, Anthem
Description: Piece based on the poem 魚家傲 (Yu Jia Ao, 'The Fisherman's Pride') by 李清照 (Li QingZhao).
The person who recommended this poem to me saw it as exploring the journey of all those in China searching spiritually.
Original text and translations
魚家傲 by 李清照
Yu Jia Ao (The Fisherman's Pride) by Li Qingzhao
Yú jiā ào by lǐqīngzhào
tiān jiē yún tāo lián xiǎo wù
xīnghé yù zhuǎn qiānfān wǔ
fǎngfú mèng hún guī dì suǒ
yīnqín wèn wǒ guī hé chù
wǒ bào lù zhǎng jiē rìmù
xué shī mán yǒu jīngrén jù
jiǔ wàn lǐ fēng péng zhèng jǔ
fēng xiū zhù
péng zhōu chuī qǔ sānshān qù
The three translations from which this piece was written:
Translation I: Character-by-character translation by Frances Matthews
Sky – connect/catch – cloud – large waves – connect/continuous – daybreak – mist.
Milky – Way – desire/intend – turn – thousand – sails – dance.
Resemble – seemingly – dream – soul/spirit – return to – God – place.
Hear/become/aware/smell – sky – words.
Abundant – diligent/attentive – ask – me – return – which – place.
I – report – road – long – sigh/alas – day – sunset.
Study – poetry – insulting/deceiving/startling – has – scare/startle – people – sentence.
Nine – thousand – mile – wind – mythical huge bird (phoenix) – correct/really – soars/raised.
Wind – stop/rest – dwell/stop.
Fairyland – boat – puff/blow – receive – three – mountain – go.
Translation II: by Guo Yuanyuan
(This poem is quite different of her other poem. Talk about a dream of her.)
She sailing on the sea, and then see a king of sky (I think is God)
and the king ask her, where is her going?
she answer the way is too far and hard.
she say: wind! help me go to three mountains (an old saying: some wisdom people live there)
Translation III: CUHK Journal of Humanities
The sky touches cloud-waves trailing morning mist;
The Milky Way is about to turn as a thousand sails dance.
My soul in a dream draws near God’s place
And I hear Heaven’s voice
Earnestly ask where I am going.
I say, the road is long, alas, and the day is late.
In poetry startling lines come hard.
On a nine-thousand-mile wind the phoenix really soars.
May the wind not stop
While it drives my tattered sail to the Fairy Isles.