I Have the Ocean In Me

Introduction by Peter Hughes

Li Shaojun is well known as ‘a poet of nature’ for his frequent references to the mountains and plains, leaves and forests, rain and rivers, cloudscapes and oceans, as well as the creatures that inhabit the earth. But his poems always contain a human dimension and betray the emotions and attitudes of the narrator. In fact his most fully achieved work provides insight into the human condition and our insatiable desire to belong to this world and to resist the ravages of time.

It is, of course, true that his poems frequently refer to natural phenomena. In the poem ‘Hello, West Lake’, for example, we are introduced to no fewer than seven spe-cies of plants in the very first four-line stanza:

The aroma of the lotus and the breeze soften the courtyard,
home of crape myrtle, magnolia, camphor, ginkgo, and parasol trees
in the sound of bird songs and weeping willows,
poetic space with a downtempo rhythm, suitable for rhymes.

This is not just a list of names. We are invited to register the the movement of the breeze which carries the scent of those plants as well as the sound of the bird song. And all this, we are told, constitutes a ‘poetic space’ with slow rhythms that are appropriate for poetry. So the literary evocations are as much about art as they are about ‘nature’.

Similarly, in stanza two, the presence of the wildfowl and the squirrel are not presented neutrally. Instead, the meeting of poet and bird startles each of them so that the duck sheers away in fear. And we infer that this disturbance is what makes the squirrel dart away from the observer towards the forest. Then in stanza three the birds foraging in the grass ‘flee as I come’. The fourth and concluding stanza of the poem states:

All of these make me desperately wish
to acquaint myself with every plant and animal here…

The effect of the poem is therefore to makes the reader feel that nature is fragile and precarious. The creatures are always ready to flee from us, perhaps never to be seen again, hence the desperate wish to name and remember every creature.

In the poem ‘Jingting Mountain’ Li Shaojun creates another interesting meditation on the relation between nature, time, human activity and poetry. Each of the four stanzas begins with the line ‘None of our work can compare’. The first two stanzas list respectively ‘the spring breeze’ and ‘the bird that soars’. So far, so good. But the third stanza celebrates ‘the pavilion on Jingting Mountain’, a work of mankind rather than nature. What is even more interesting is that the final stanza features ‘poetry’ rather than a plant or creature:

None of our work can compare
with the verse of the wine-soaked Li Bai.
His poetry summons us here to tipple and wail,
to forget the differences between new and old eras,
to lose ourselves amongst mountains and valleys.

Again we notice that natural and cultural phenomena are not really separated in this work. Rather they are presented as a continuum that underpins and gives value to human existence.

Often the perception of change or fragility in nature will lead to a significant memory, or poem. It is worth quoting the short poem ‘A Stone’ in full to appreciate the accumulating rhetorical effect:

‘A Stone’
A stone rolled down the cliff,
wreaking havoc.
The grass ouched; a grasshopper jumped away;
a snail was too slow to run and shrank its head;
a butterfly fluttered this way and that way;
the creek down at the bottom kicked up a big splash.

The stone fell on a pile of other stones
— and finally settled down.
Lodged between other stones,
it was eventually covered by soil and weeds.

Years later, I recalled this childhood scene,
and realised that the stone had fallen into my heart.

The random movement of the stone might initially seem an event without significance. But as the stone (and the poem) gathers momentum we see the effects rippling out into the world. Several small animals are disrupted before the stone finally comes to rest. It is then buried by natural processes and covered with new plant growth. The tiny, quick details of the first stanza of this poem give way to slow geomorphological processes in stanza two. The concluding couplet presents a complex and satisfying conclusion by achieving a symbolic resonance. Years pass and the stone is lodged in the poet’s heart, and in this poem. But if we are experienced and sensitive readers we will note that this burial is suggestive of a human life and death. And the poem has become a kind of immortality for the buried stone that was so full of movement at the start of the poem.

The passing of time is registered throughout this collection and the threat of extinction, whether personal or more generally, is never far away. Early on in the book there is a poem called ‘By Niyang River’. The poet begins by remembering the words of a traveller in New York who said that life and love are the same the world over. The poet disagrees and starts praising Linzhi as a very special place because of its tree-girt lagoon, its flowers, rainbows, sun halos and the ‘miraculous angelic glow of its snow mountain’. But the second half of this poem betrays the the real reason why this location is so special to the narrator. He overhears two young lovers shyly talking and the voice of the girl awakens a powerful memory from decades before:

Her voice, so familiar, brought back a memory from 40 years ago.
This dark night, the splashes from the rushing water
felt familiar, too.

So the poet is recalling a lover from the past. Have they lost touch? Almost certainly. Has the woman died? The reader may well think so on rereading those earlier hints: the ‘miraculous angelic glow’, and the sun ‘halos’. Do they not suggest that her earthly life was over some time ago? Again we sense the fear of time, the deep uneasy quake of mortality. Some of Li Shaojun’s most memorable verses have to do with a narrative dimension. In ‘Ferry Crossing’, for example, there is an almost cinematic quality to this short vignette about a traveller standing near the ferry terminus. Night is falling and neither he nor the poet nor the reader is sure how he ended up there. The moment of dusk as the mist appears through the trees , chimes with the man’s absence of direction. He has lost his way. He cannot remember why he is there, or where he was supposed to be going. Again, this potent little poem attains a symbolic resonance representing anyone who feels they have lost control and purpose in their life.

These poems which hint at stories can achieve an almost visionary presence. Perhaps the best example of this kind is ‘Legend of the Sea’, a magical nocturne suggestive of a fleeting vision. The memory glows, but it glows with a sad light. As in so much of Li Shaojun’s writing we are witnessing a moment of beauty that could not endure, but which has been preserved through the art of poetry:

‘Legend of the Sea’

She sat in the middle of the sea, surrounded by constellations.
Shrimps, crabs, eels performed a dance in her palace.
A brigade of whales ushered in the troupe, followed by seagulls
treading water,

then the curtain opened — it was a starry, starry night.
I sat on the reef on a headland.
The wind was fluttering, sending the chimes ringing.
In the moonlight the sea looked translucent,
and the waves in my heart had not yet surged. . .

Then she laughed, delightful and playful like a wave.
The billows carried her laughter to the other side of the sea,
but it had faded into a whisper when it reached my ears.
But this tiny whisper was enough to steal my heart,
and turned me into a seeker at sea for the love that came only
so briefly.