Living since March.From Chinese to English

Recent days I encounter a bottleneck in writing. As a donkey staggering around millstone, I feel too tired. So I decide to write my blog in English, because writing in English is boring but writing blog is interesting-mixing boring with interesting, I may survive through these days.

Though I am not such a man who is able to establish a college of philosophy as Beta dreamed of, I am a thinker, not a writer, as it were. In my opinion, most of Chinese writers are just “writer”-the one who is able to express his thought only through a very language, is just a writer. So what is a thinker? Leo Tolstoy, Victor Hugo, and Ryunosuke Akutagawa, the one who can bridge the gab between different culture, region, and even words is a thinker. I wish I could be a so-called thinker, as it were, to transport my idea, opinion, thought… joy, sorrow, pain… through whatever language. However, I would think in Chinese forever, since it is my mother tongue.

Of course, such Chinese famous writers are just as the guests around a dinner table, who always regards himself as the focus in the table, and considers his talking, laughing, shouting as playing a most crucial role on the whole banquet. Such a person is stupid, since he does not know that, he is just a joker making fun for others around the same table, while nobody attends at other table would pay his attention to his isolated performance. What’s more, the world of Chinese is just a small table full of millions of writers who are always entertaining themselves and billions of people who nearly never read, yet the world of English is a big table which is far larger. I do not intent to disparage the value of my mother tongue; on the contrary, I love this language, and I cannot even imagine thinking in any language else. But only the greatest person might die from pride, and only the most beautiful language would be extinct owning to arrogance. If she cannot wake up, she will die in bed.

What’s more, using English enjoys another benefit for me that, I would not be shy of afraid while I am writing in other languages. For example, I’d like to say to somebody that: If there has to be one or the other-love or hate-between a man and woman, I prefer to being hated by every woman, but only loved by you. I cannot image exepressing this emotion in Chinese, for it is too shameful. However, I am courageous to conceal them in ABCD, for I am a ostrich to some extent.

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