Swallow
Old osmanthus trees cast shade on the street
While I steep plum blossom tea: fragrance from spring.
I’ve painted this for you to hang on the wall
When snow drifts under cold moonlight and your room stands empty.
Chen Hongshou (1627)
Our way of relating to the world around us is increasingly digital. A hundred years ago, someone waking in their room might have understood the weather was cold by feeling the cold; this morning, I learned the temperature outside by taking a look at the screen of my phone. These days, our homes are better insulated and keep the cold out. Our phones deliver information to us that might have normally been understood through physical sensation.
Spring is upon us, but how do we know? Officially, the season began on March 20th, at the vernal equinox, but I began to feel spring on February 27th when walking to school. Swallows were building a nest in the grate of an NYU building; the green buds of crocuses pushed through the dirt towards the sun. These more tangible signs of spring evoked in me a sense of joy: my gait loosened,, and, like the crocuses, I turned my head to smile at the sun.
Is something lost in our insulation from nature? If I had been looking down at my phone as I took my walk, I might have missed the swallows. Certain forms of human technology have clear benefits: keeping homes warm in the winter prevents sickness and even death. I wonder, though, about the downsides. What is it that we miss in our constructed comfort?
In celebration of these old ways of knowing spring, I have translated a few poems from ancient Chinese and Latin that connect swallows to the coming of spring.
Extract from Vigil of Venus
She sings, but we are silent; when will my springtime come?
When will I be like the swallow, silent no more?
Unknown
Extract from Georgics
When the Western Winds first stir the waves
Before the meadows blush with new colors
Before the twittering swallow hangs its nest from the rafters
As warmth swells from the tender marrow of the bones
And spreads, animals appear as if by miracle
First, just their feet, then buzzing wings
They swarm and take to the air, higher and higher
Until like rain from summer clouds
They burst forth
Virgil (29 BCE)
Spring Scene
Swallows arrive with the rites of spring,
The falling pear blossoms after Ancestor’s Day.
Sprigs of green grass sprout from the pond,
Beneath the leaves, an oriole sings once, then again,
Willow catkins bloom and flutter as the days grow long.
Yan Shu (Northern Song Dynasty)
Sui Palace Swallows
Whispering swallows mourn the bygone spring of the court,
The garden flowers which turn to dust as they fall
Since the palace lost its splendor,
On their return they see no one at all.
Li Yi (Tang Dynasty)
Song for the Swallows
Writing lyrics to another song, drinking,
In last year’s spring on the terrace by the pond.
Will the west-set sun ever turn back round?
Nothing can be done: these helpless flowers will wilt,
Every year these familiar swallows will return,
In this small fragrant garden, I will wander aimlessly, alone.
Yan Shu (Northern Song Dynasty)
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