Author: enigma
Date: 11-25-04 01:13
The Han Chinese nation is the largest nation in the world, but it is perhaps also the only nation in the world without its own ethnic clothing. The actual traditional garments for the Han people was lost centuries ago. For the basics about Hanfu, please refer to the following wikipedia article: (Unfortunately the article is still incomplete)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanfu
The following is what could be regarded as a piece of emotive promotional literature for Hanfu, written by a young Han Chinese girl and posted on a mainland Chinese forum. For the original Chinese version of this writing, please refer to the following link:
http://www.haanen.com/bbs/dispbbs.asp?boardID=42&ID=3379
6&page=1
I have attempted to translate this writing into English and still preserve some of its literary flavour. Unfortunately I don't think I have done a good job of it at all. Here is the translation:
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The reeds and rushes are deeply green,
And the white dew is turned into hoarfrost.
The handsome man of whom I think,
Is somewhere about the river.
I go up the stream in quest of him,
But the way is difficult and long.
I go down the stream in quest of him,
And lo! He is right in the midst of the water.
- Verses from "Jian Jia", a poem from Shi Jing, Qin Feng (Folk Songs of the Qin Region, the Book of Songs) written nearly 3000 years ago during the Western Zhou Dynasty
When I step onto those ancient ramparts, when I touch those age-worn columns, leaning against the fences, as I excitedly glance far into the distance, a sense of sadness would always rise from my heart. It is as if a sound is calling: "Do you still remember, your ancestors are called Yan and Huang."
Someone once told me, there was a giant fish, which lived in a place called Bei Min. It changed into a great bird, gliding gracefully between Heaven and Earth. Its wings were like the Heavenly clouds, and even a height of ninety thousand miles it could climb with ease. The ancient sages gave us the virtue to embrace the universe, and sculptured for us a magnificent and splendid temple of culture.
Back then, there was a young man named Jikang, who played the most beautiful piece of music just before his death. His lose robes and sashes waved and flowed as the wind blew. Facing death, he had the most graceful demeanour. Millennia have passed, the sound of his music still echoes on, yet he does not know, that what is really lost is not his music, but his dignity, and the Hanfu he held dear.
I also dreamt back to the great Tang, seeing a poet named Li Bai roaming China. He served his wine with the glittering cool light of his sword, his lover was the moon suspended in the heavens. I saw him walking under the moon, singing and reciting poetry. Long winds blew open his hair-band, his long robes flowing like an angelic figure.
But later on there was a change on the throne, with a single cup of wine scholars were raised up and generals abandoned. Within the "heaven on earth" of southern China his grandsons eventually hid away, and large areas of land were given up to the enemy. But even then, in the cold northern regions, there was still an army fighting on. The enemies all said, "with the army of Yue Fei here, we could never have victory". Alas! The hero was treated with jealousy, and a lying evil tongue gained great power. A strand of loyal spirit faded away by the side of the Western Lake, and the spiritual force of a nation was irreversibly gone. Yet under the declining light of the bloodstained sunset, I could still vaguely see, something someone plugged into the soil, what the general had once used, a pike that would rather snap and break than to be bent around.
The wheel of time slowly moved on, eventually it lost its direction in a year that we no longer remember. Thus by the Souxi Lake, on the Meihua Hill, to commemorate this tragedy a shrine was constructed. There was a powerless scholar named Shi Kefa, he did not wish to scatter his high hair-knot, he could not take off the clothing left by his ancestors. Therefore he decided to go down with his city, life he lost, but faith he protected that lived on. Brutal massacres, and a mountain of skeletons, cannot bury the spirit of our nation. For someone still believed, that centuries later, it would continue to shine on this great land forever on.
Centuries later, when I sit inside "McDonalds", as I wore Gucci fashion, as I sang "my heart will go on", there is always an inexplicable sadness in my heart, for I hear a loud voice saying: "Have you really forgotten, your ancestors are called Yan and Huang."
I remembered, a group of blue-eyed and brown-haired wolves, with powerful gunboats, destroyed our shrines, and brought down our temples. Hence today, a hundred years later, we understand democracy and freedom, but forgot the moral teachings of our ancestors. We have western-style musical geniuses, but no longer recognise our own ancient songs. We can construct impressive skyscrapers, but cannot tolerate a tablet of public morals to be built. Western-style clothing we wore, but the memories of our own Hanfu are long gone.
O Where art thou, that nation of rites and courtesy? Where art thou, my young men of the Hua Xia?
Why is it that when I wore the most beautiful of clothes, you say I am strange and weird? Why is it that when I treasure my Hanfu, you say that it belongs to the kingdom of Fusang? Why is it that even the most sincere of my words, you merely see as a joke? Why is it that even the most evocative of my hot tears, cannot move your iron and stone-like heart?
O where art thou, that homeland of faith and righteousness? Where art thou, my young men of the Hua Xia?
I do not wish to break my heart over this, I do not wish to have no one praising the wisdom of our ancestors, and I do not wish to have the Japanese promoting the clothing of the Hua Xia. Therefore, I have always had a hope, that one day, we could pick up our own culture, and hold up by ourselves the backbone of our nation and its character.
Remember! There was once an era called Han and Tang; There was once a great river named Chang Jiang; There was once an emblem of dragon and phoenix; There was once an elegant style of clothing called - Ni Shang!
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