This piece began as a short poem I wrote in Chinese years ago about the nature of mist (雾):
雾
我看见的雾
总在我永远也达不到的前方
其实
我正在雾里1
Last year, when I tried to translate it into English, the words felt like they were losing their magic. In Chinese, the character 雾 (wù) has the radical “雨” (rain) at the top, above the phonetic element “务”, creating a visual density and a specific poetic weight that English words like “mist” or “fog” just can’t replicate. The character itself looks like the atmosphere it describes.
While I was stuck on the translation, I suddenly “saw” these images in my head. I realized that if I couldn’t translate the words, I could translate the poem’s feeling and the logic into pictures.
In the end, I was much happier with these drawings than I was with my English drafts of the poem. Sometimes, when words fail, pictures are another way to speak.
The direct (literal) translation of the poem:
Mist
The mist I see
Is always ahead, where I can never reach.
Actually,
I am already in the mist.
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