I froze. All these years, my mother tongue had been guiding and governing me like a compass and whip, telling me where to look, what to see, how to feel and think, which way to go… till I walked into the wrong class and started writing in another language. A new star exploded. In English, I had limited toys to play with but was free to take things apart and make new things without a mother watching or pointing a finger. In this new world, I became keenly aware of every sound, syllable, and word, its history, its living surroundings. And how fascinating and refreshing it was! Even better, my heightened sensibility in English allowed me to give new eyes and ears to my mother tongue and discover its endless treasures, which I’d long ignored. I could no longer take Chinese for granted. Every character opened a new playground. This is the gift translation has given me: an understanding of the poem as a kernel in which a civilization is embedded, and translation as the key to open that kernel.
—Wang Ping, Swimming in Two Rivers
