Mao Tse-tung

(26.12.1893 - 9.9.1976)

This is a sample of the masculine-straight and vigorous brush of chairman Mao Tse-tung - it is
a "calligraphy" much alike his everyday writing*, yet nevertheless showing his skill and (tradi-
tional) education. Those lines sometime seem as having been written "on the horseback" (and this
not seldom in a literal sense!). The example shows the manuscript of his poem "Changsha", a "tzu"
after the melody "Springtime in the Garden at the River Ch'in" - 1925.
(* It's told, that Mao used to throw such pieces of paper away or would carelessly leave them be-
hind, after writing his poems during conferences etc., doing his art - as it may seem - like doodles.)

Ch'ang-sha 1925

Allein; steh im kalten Herbst:
Hsiang, der nordwärts fließt,
Orangeninsel, das Kap.
Seh zehntausend Berge, rotes Rund,
sich türmenden Wald, verfärbt;
breit der Fluß, Jadeschein,
hundert Boote auf Wettfahrt.
Adler stoßen hoch in den Raum,
Fische schweben am seichten Grund -
zehntausend Arten, unterm Frosthimmel
streitend für Freiheit.

Verdrossen der Öde,
frag ich die blaue Weite, die große Erde:
Wer meistert das Auf und Ab?

Kam mit hundert Gefährten einst her.
Gedanken an damals: stolzer Jahre, Monate Fülle.
Allesamt Lernende, junge Leute,
aufrichtig, aufrecht;
erregbar aufs stärkste.
Mit Fingern zeigend: China,
"Nieder!" "Bravo!" die Schriften,
ein Dreck ihrerzeit die Hochgestellten.
Erinnert ihr euch:
inmitten der Strömung Schläge ins Wasser,
die Wellen, hemmend den Flug des Boots?

(Übertr. Joachim Schickel)

Ch'ang-sha 1925

Standing alone in the autumn cold:
The Hsiang flowing northward,
Orange Island, the cape.
I see thousands of hills in crimsoned view,
The woods piling up in deep-dye;
The mighty stream, in its gleam of jade,
One hundred barques racing by.
Eagles high up, cleaving the space,
Fish gliding above shallow ground;
Ten thousand creatures, under frosty a sky,
all fighting for freedom.

In the waste's dreariness brooding,
I ask the blue space without bonds:
Who masters fate's rise and descent?

Once I came here with a hundred companions,
Vivid the months and years yet, filled with pride.
Schoolmates we were, and young altogether,
Upright and honest, in the bloom of our lives;
Impetuous students, full of enthusiasm,
We cast all restraints boldly aside.
Pointing to China, its mountains and rivers,
Setting the people afire with our words,
And counted for muck all those ranking high.
Do you still can remember:
How, venturing midstream, the oars lashed the waters
And the waves yet staying the flight of our boats?

(Transl. A.W.T.)

Herrn Liu Ya-tzu erwidernd - (Ch'i-lü)

Sommer, 1949

Tranken Tee in Kanton, kann's nicht vergessen,
Tauschten Verse in Ch'ung-ch'ing, gelb ward das Laub.
Dreißig und ein Jahr, in der alten Hauptstadt zurück,
Zu fallender Blüten Zeit les' ich Deine Strophen.

Verdrossenheit ohn' Maß - laß nicht Dein Herz zerfressen,
Das Große-Ganze nun heißt es ins Auge fassen.
Sag nicht, im K'un-ming Teiche da sei das Wasser seicht,
Machst dort die Fische besser aus als im Fu-ch'un.

(Übertr. A.W.T.)

Replying to Mr. Liu Ya-tzu - (Ch'i-lü)

Summer, 1949

We had tea in Kuang-chou, I cannot forget,
Changed verses in Ch'ung-ch'ing, when leaves grew yellow.
The old capital now after thirty-one years,
It's time of falling flowers, and I'm reading your lines.

Beware of grievance tearing your heart,
Let far stray your eyes, thus getting the whole.
Don't say of K'un-ming Lake, the water's so shallow,
To spot the fish it's better than
Fu-ch'un.

(Transl. A.W.T.)

Antwort an Li Shu-i
("Der Falter hängt sein Herz an Blumen")

Verlor meine stolze Pappel,
verlorst deine Weide;
o Yang, o Liu: leicht aufgeflogen zu
Neunten Himmeln.
Befragen, verhören Wu Kang, was er
da habe,
und Wu Kang reicht ihn entgegen, Zimt-
blütenwein.

Vereinsamte Ch'ang O, breitet die
weiten Ärmel,
in zehntausend Meilen des Raums für die
treuen Seelen zu tanzen.
Die plötzliche Nachricht: auf Erden ergab sich
der Tiger;
in Tränen brechen sie aus, wie Ströme
von Regen.

(Übertr. Joachim Schickel)

Reply to Li Shuyi
("The butterfly's fond of blossoms")

I lost my proud poplar, you lost your willow;
o Yang, o Liu: gently soared up to Ninth Heavens.
Questioned, interrogated Wu Kang, what's there to give,
and Wu Kang offering them: fragrant-blossom wine.

Ch'ang O in seclusion, spreads her long sleeves in space of
ten thousand miles, to dance for the faithful souls.
The sudden news then: on earth, the tiger was to surrender;
and they burst out crying, with tears pouring like rain.

(tr. A.W. Tüting)

(1957, May 11)

"Not a calligraphy !" - Did Mao's message reach the people?

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