Happy Chong Yang Festival

Today is my father’s birthday. First of all, I jsut wanna say “happy birthday” to my old man!

Today is really a good day.

After half-a-month’s suffering, I got my first goal of weight-losing.

The “Chong Yang Festival” is celebrated on the ninth day of the ninth lunar month. On the day people often climb hills or mountains to look far into the distance, to miss their friends, relatives and lovers far away…

There’re some different versions of the poem ” 九月九日忆山东兄弟 ” cited from “《九月九日忆山东兄弟》英译版赏析_中国翻译研究院 (china.org.cn)“

九月九日忆山东兄弟

[唐] 王维

独在异乡为异客，每逢佳节倍思亲。

遥知兄弟登高处，遍插茱萸少一人。

On the Mountain Holiday Thinking of my Brothers in Shandong

All alone in a foreign land,

I am twice as homesick on this day.

When brothers carry dogwood up the mountain,

Each of them a branch — and my branch missing.

—— Tr. by Witter Bynner

Thinking of my Brothers on Mountain Climbing Day

Alone, a lonely stranger in a foreign land,

I doubly pine for kinsfolk on a holiday.

I know my brothers would, with dogwood spray in hand,

Climb up mountain and miss me so far away.

—— Tr. by X. Y. Z. （许渊冲）

On Double Ninth Day Thinking of my Brothers at Home

A lonely stranger in a foreign land I’m cast,

Sore sick for my dears on every festive day.

By now my brothers must some heights have passed,

But a cornel wearer missing’ll damp the day.

—— Tr. by Wang Baotong（王宝童）

Thinking of my Brothers on the Double Ninth Festival in the East of Mount Hua

All alone in a strange land,

How I long for my folks on this festive day!

I imagine my brothers climb up a hill, dogwood on heads,

And all except me merrily go their way.

—— Tr. by Feng Huazhan（丰华瞻）

Thinking of My Brothers in Shandong on the Double Ninth Festival

A stranger in a strange land on each holiday,

I think of my kinsmen with a double care.

I know when my brothers wear medicine bags,

At the heights, they would find one to spare.

—— Tr. by Chen Junpu（陈君朴）

Nostalgia for my brothers on the Double Ninth Day

In an alien land, being a solitary alien guest,

I miss most my kin when comes the festival bright,

And think on the hill my brothers must feel distressed,

To find, when wearing a dogwood sprig, one not in sight.