Li Qingzhao is justly celebrated for her place in Chinese literary history. She was a poet with a wry, unsentimental style and a rich sense of melody. Her ci lyrics that were originally set to music are glorious in their depth and genius, spare and arresting on the line. They evoke with rare immediacy the haunting beauty of country life during the Song dynasty; the unseen, restive labour of the poet; and Li Qingzhaos bracing take on what it means to create art as a woman in the shadow of exile, war, imprisonment, and an unwelcoming literary establishment.
In Wendy Chens splendid new translation, each poem is as sharp and fresh as the edge of a new spring leaf. These richly textured bolts of melody are masterpieces of verse, as resonant and bracing today as they were in the eleventh century; and they underscore Li Qingzhao status as a necessary and iconic literary figure.
