Lost in translation
Shanghai, August 2009. By Noel Orosa
Shanghai thirty years ago on a moonlit night. . .maybe we did not get to see the moon of thirty years ago. To young people the moon of thirty years ago should be a reddish-yellow wet stain the size of a copper coin, like a teardrop on letter paper by To-yün Hsüan, worn and blurred. In old people’s memory the moon of thirty years ago was gay, larger, rounder, and whiter than the moon now. But looked back on after thirty years on a rough road, the best of moons is apt to be tinged with sadness.
– From The Golden Cangue by Eileen Chang, English translation by Eileen Chang.
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