dragon

For the Greek that is translated as “dragon” in English, the Bawm Chin translation uses a term referring to a mythical serpent (source: David Clark), Sranan Tongo uses the local bigi kaiman or “big Caiman” (source: Jabini 2015, p. 33), Dan uses “big snake (source: Don Slager), and Mandarin Chinese translations typically use lóng 龙/龍 which brings it in conflict with Chinese culture where lóng has a highly positive connotation.

Simon Wong explains: “The translation process often involves finding the lexical equivalent in the receptor language for words or expressions in the source language. If finding the equivalent of concrete objects from ancient times is challenging, identifying the equivalent for mythical (or legendary) figures is nearly unimaginable. In the English-speaking world (or perhaps in most European contexts), what is represented by the English word ‘dragon’ is often portrayed as monsters to be tamed or overcome, but in Chinese culture, lóng 龙 (traditional script: 龍), the commonly accepted Chinese equivalent of ‘dragon’ always represents a cultural mascot of good fortune. It is the highest-ranking animal in the Chinese animal hierarchy; it is even surmised that the pronunciation represents the sound of thunder. Dragons were also identified with the emperors of China in the old days; ordinary people were not allowed to use any portrait of the dragon. It is only a relatively recent expression that the Chinese are called ‘people of the dragon’ and that its portrait is popularized. Many East Asian deities and demigods have dragons as their personal mounts or companions.

“The author of Revelation used the Greek drakon / δράκων (which is translated into English as ‘dragon’) to represent the mythical Satanic incarnation coming down from heaven. The most popular Protestant Chinese version (Chinese Union Version, published in 1919) renders this Greek word δράκων as lóng 龙/龍. This rendering represents a long tradition that can be traced back to the earliest Protestant translations of the 1820s. Since then, almost all Protestant Chinese versions have followed this tradition of using lóng 龙/龍, a rendering that inevitably creates a cultural crash with Chinese culture. Many new converts are asked to demolish all vases or artifacts portraying this mythical figure, and some people are even asked to have their name changed if the character lóng 龙/龍 is found in their names. While modern Catholic Chinese translations also use the same rendering, the first Catholic Chinese version (unpublished) which included the Book of Revelation (1813, by the French Jesuit Loui Antoine de Poirot) used the term mǎng 蟒 (meaning ‘python’). The python’s fierce nature carries a negative connotation that is far more appropriate and indeed conveys the meaning of the Greek word far more adequately than lóng 龙/龍. In the Septuagint (the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible with the Pentateuch completed in mid-3rd century B.C.), it was said that, when Moses and Pharoah’s priests threw their staffs on the ground, the staffs became drakon / δράκων (Exodus 7:9, 10, 12). This Greek word was used to translate the Hebrew word ‘tanin‎,’ unmistakenly understood to be ‘serpent.’ Some recent Chinese translations rightly render it as móshé 魔蛇 (‘evil serpent’). As a translation strategy, it could also render δράκων phonetically dùlāgēn 杜拉根 (see Revelation 12:3 footnote in the Revised Chinese Union Version, publ. 2010).

“The different translation strategies that Protestant and Catholics employ shows the greater Protestant emphasis on the conversion experience. By using lóng 龙/龍 for δράκων, Protestant translators emphasized the separation from the ‘old self’ (old lives), which in this case encompassed an element of Chinese culture that was often idolatrized. Catholic missionaries (especially the Jesuits), on the other hand, had a far more positive appreciation of Chinese culture that enabled them to see no such necessary point of demarcation from the recipient’s cultural context.”

See also serpent.

Translation: Chinese

很多时候，翻译者需要为原语言中的词语或表达找出对等译词。寻找与古时实体事物对等的译词已经颇具挑战，要确定神话（或传说）中实体事物的对等词更是难上加难。在英语世界中，或者说在大多数欧洲语言中，与英文dragon类似的形象通常指有待驯服或战胜的悪兽。一般来说，这个英文词在中文里面的对等词是"龙"（拼音lóng），但是在中国文化中，龙是一个代表吉祥的形象。龙在中国文化中是最高等的动物；也有说法指"龙"这字的发音仿似雷声。在中国古代，皇帝都被称为"龙"，一般人不能采用龙的肖象。中国人被称为"龙的传人"可能是比较晚期的民间说法，同时使用龙的肖象也普遍起来。东亚地区的许多神明和半神都以龙为坐骑或侍从。

《启示录》作者用希腊文δράκων一词来描述撒但成为肉身，从天上坠落下来（启12:3，4，7，9，13，16，17，13:2，4）。最重要的新教中文圣经译本《和合本》（1919年出版）将这个希腊文词语译作"龙"。事实上，这个译法由来已久，可以追溯到马礼逊（Robert Morrison）在1823年发行的译本，或者馬殊曼和拉瑟（Marshman-Lassar）在1822年完成的译本。几乎所有新教中文圣经译本都沿用了"龙"的译法，这不可避免地与中国文化产生了冲突。有保守的传道人会要求初归信的人丢掉所有以这个神秘形象为图案的花瓶或艺术品，如果他们的名字中有"龙"字，传道人甚至会要求他们改名。第一本包含《启示录》的天主教中文圣经译本由法国耶稣会会士賀清泰神父（Louis Antoine de Poirot）在1813年译成，他采用了"蟒"的译法（并非完整，亦未有出版），然而现代的天主教中文圣经译本仍译作"龙"。"蟒"的凶猛体现出原词带负面形象的涵义。这种译法确实比"龙"合适的多，更加全面地表达出希腊文的意思。《七十士译本》是《希伯来圣经》的希腊文译本，其中的摩西五经于主前三世纪中翻译完成；这个译本叙述摩西与埃及术士争斗的故事时，说他们的杖变成了δράκων（出7:9，10，12）。《七十士译本》用这个希腊文词语来翻译希伯来文tanin，而tanin毫无疑问是指"蛇"。近期有中文译本将希腊文δράκων译作"魔蛇"，这是很好的翻译。另外，δράκων也可以音译为"杜拉根"。参《和合本修订版》关于《启示录》12:3的脚注。

基督新教非常强调人的归正经验，弃绝"老我"（旧的生命）是人重生的一个记号。马礼逊（或马殊曼）和后来的所有中文译本将δράκων译作"龙"，可能反映这个观念，另外中国文化中的要素经常会被偶像化也是一个考虑。然而，天主教传教士（特别是耶稣会会士）对于中国文化的认识要正面得多，他们认为把"龙"与中国文化语境相隔离是毫无必要的。

Translator: Simon Wong

Psalm 35 as classical Chinese poetry

John Wu Ching-hsiung (1899-1986) was a native of Ningbo, Zhejiang, a renowned jurist who studied in Europe and the United States, and served as a professor of law at Soochow University, as a judge and the Acting President of the Shanghai Provisional Court, and as the Vice President of the Commission for the Drafting of the Constitution of the Republic of China, before becoming the Minister of the Republic of China to the Holy See. Wu has written extensively, not only on law but also on Chinese philosophy, and has also written his autobiography, Beyond East and West, in English. Wu was a devout Catholic and had a personal relationship with Chiang Kai-shek (1887-1975). Wu began translating the the Psalms in 1938, and was encouraged by Chiang to translate the entire New Testament, which he corrected in his own handwriting. (…) John Wu Ching-hsiung’s translation of the Psalms (first draft in 1946, revised in 1975) was translated into Literary Chinese in the form of poetic rhyme, with attention paid to the style of writing. According to the content and mood of the different chapters of the original psalm, Wu chose Chinese poetic forms such as tetrameter, pentameter, heptameter [4, 5 or 7 syllables/Chinese characters per stanza], and the [less formal] Sao style, and sometimes more than two poetic forms were used in a single poem. (Source: Simon Wong)

John Wu Ching-hsiung himself talks about his celebrated and much-admired (though difficult-to-understand) translation in his aforementioned autobiography: (Click or tap here to see)

“Nothing could have been farther from my mind than to translate the Bible or any parts of it with a view to publishing it as an authorized version. I had rendered some of the Psalms into Chinese verse, but that was done as a part of my private devotion and as a literary hobby. When I was in Hongkong in 1938, I had come to know Madame H. H. Kung [Soong Ai-ling], and as she was deeply interested in the Bible, I gave her about a dozen pieces of my amateurish work just for her own enjoyment. What was my surprise when, the next time I saw her, she told me, “My sister [Soong Mei-ling] has written to say that the Generalissimo [Chiang Kai-shek] likes your translation of the Psalms very much, especially the first, the fifteenth, and the twenty-third, the Psalm of the Good Shepherd!”

“In the Autumn of 1940, when I was in Chungking, the Generalissimo invited me several times to lunch with him and expressed his appreciation of the few pieces that he had read. So I sent him some more. A few days later I received a letter from Madame Chiang [Soong Mei-ling], dated September 21, 1940, in which she said that they both liked my translation of the few Psalms I had sent them. ‘For many years,’ she wrote, ‘the Generalissimo has been wanting to have a really adequate and readable Wen-li (literary) translation of the Bible. He has never been able to find anyone who could undertake the matter.’ The letter ends up by saying that I should take up the job and that ‘the Generalissimo would gladly finance the undertaking of this work.’

“After some preliminary study of the commentaries, I started my work with the Psalms on January 6, 1943, the Feast of the Epiphany.

“I had three thousand years of Chinese literature to draw upon. The Chinese vocabulary for describing the beauties of nature is so rich that I seldom failed to find a word, a phrase, and sometimes even a whole line to fit the scene. But what makes such Psalms so unique is that they bring an intimate knowledge of the Creator to bear upon a loving observation of things of nature. I think one of the reasons why my translation is so well received by the Chinese scholars is that I have made the Psalms read like native poems written by a Chinese, who happens to be a Christian. Thus to my countrymen they are at once familiar and new — not so familiar as to be jejune, and not so new as to be bizarre. I did not publish it as a literal translation, but only as a paraphrase.

“To my greatest surprise, [my translation of the Psalms] sold like hot dogs. The popularity of that work was beyond my fondest dreams. Numberless papers and periodicals, irrespective of religion, published reviews too good to be true. I was very much tickled when I saw the opening verse of the first Psalm used as a headline on the front page of one of the non-religious dailies.”

A contemporary researcher (Lindblom 2021) mentions this about Wu’s translation: “Wu created a unique and personal work of sacred art that bears the imprint of his own admitted love and devotion, a landmark achievement comparable to Antoni Gaudi’s Basilica of the Sagrada Família in Barcelona, Spain. Although its use is still somewhat limited today, it continues to attract readers for the aforementioned qualities, and continues to be used in prayers and music by those who desire beauty and an authentic Chinese-sounding text that draws from China’s ancient traditions.”

The translation of Psalm 35 from the 1946 edition is in pentameter and the rarely used rhyme scheme is -i (the 1946 edition did not have verse numbers either):

恩將仇報

欵欵求恩主。奮起抗吾敵。吾敵恣侵略。求主施還擊。 執爾干與盾。操爾戈與戟。護我以恩佑。阻彼以神力。 明告我心魂。我為爾安宅。 挫折諸險狠。擊潰眾凶賊。 天兵加追逐。如風飄穅屑。 使其所由徑。黯澹多躓石。 若輩何險毒。無故加橫逆。設穽且張網。欲圖我隕越。 願其遭報應。身受所作孽。自陷羅網中。葬身所掘窟。 令我藉主恩。中心自怡悅。 主恩實無邊。銘心且鏤骨。誰似主雅瑋。抑強而扶弱。窮苦無告者。恃主得蘇息。
群小紛紛起。誣白以為黑。 無風興波瀾。以怨報我德。被誣將誰訴。中心痛欲絕。 曩者彼有患。吾心為惻惻。衣麻且齋戒。求主脫其厄。所求出至誠。對主披心腹。 待之如良友。愛之如骨肉。直如居母喪。心魂慘不樂。 一朝我罹難。欣然相慶祝。落井更投石。心中懷叵測。 相逼日以甚。欲將我撕裂。切齒為何因。醉酒且飽德。 此情主應見。寧能長默默。祈速保吾命。莫為群獅食。 會當在眾前。宣揚主恩澤。 莫令昧良者。欣然看我蹶。 無故樂我禍。眉目傳悅懌。所議非和平。所懷惟詭譎。域中善良人。不得享安逸。 見我遭顛沛。群逆笑嚇嚇。 吾目亦何幸。得覩此一日。 姦情實昭著。吾主寧不察。祈主毋遐棄。一伸吾之直。 發揚爾正義。無令終受屈。莫使彼群小。洋洋喜氣溢。 彈冠共相慶。竟將彼吞滅。 務使幸災者。弄巧反成拙。 但願正直人。歡呼開胸臆。大公惟雅瑋。忠良必蒙秩。 盛德何日忘。頌聲上脣舌。

Transcription into Roman alphabet with the rhyme scheme highlighted:

ēn jiāng chóu bào

kuǎn kuǎn qiú ēn zhǔ 。 fèn qǐ kàng wú dí 。 wú dí zī qīn lüè 。 qiú zhǔ shī huán jī 。 zhí ěr gān yǔ dùn 。 cāo ěr gē yǔ jǐ 。 hù wǒ yǐ ēn yòu 。 zǔ bǐ yǐ shén lì 。 míng gào wǒ xīn hún 。 wǒ wéi ěr ān zhái 。 cuò zhē zhū xiǎn hěn 。 jī kuì zhòng xiōng zéi 。 tiān bīng jiā zhuī zhú 。 rú fēng piāo kāng xiè 。 shǐ qí suǒ yóu jìng 。 àn dàn duō zhì shí 。 ruò bèi hé xiǎn dú 。 wú gù jiā héng nì 。 shè jǐng qiě zhāng wǎng 。 yù tú wǒ yǔn yuè 。 yuàn qí zāo bào yīng 。 shēn shòu suǒ zuò niè 。 zì xiàn luó wǎng zhōng 。 zàng shēn suǒ jué kū 。 líng wǒ jiè zhǔ ēn 。 zhōng xīn zì yí yuè 。 zhǔ ēn shí wú biān 。 míng xīn qiě lòu gǔ 。 shuí sì zhǔ yǎ wěi 。 yì qiáng ér fú ruò 。 qióng kǔ wú gào zhě 。 shì zhǔ dé sū xī 。
qún xiǎo fēn fēn qǐ 。 wū bái yǐ wéi hēi 。 wú fēng xīng bō lán 。 yǐ yuàn bào wǒ dé 。 bèi wū jiāng shuí sù 。 zhōng xīn tòng yù jué 。 nǎng zhě bǐ yǒu huàn 。 wú xīn wéi cè cè 。 yī má qiě zhāi jiè 。 qiú zhǔ tuō qí è 。 suǒ qiú chū zhì chéng 。 duì zhǔ pī xīn fù 。 dài zhī rú liáng yǒu 。 ài zhī rú gǔ ròu 。 zhí rú jū mǔ sāng 。 xīn hún cǎn bù lè 。 yī zhāo wǒ lí nán 。 xīn rán xiāng qìng zhù 。 luò jǐng gēng tóu shí 。 xīn zhōng huái pǒ cè 。 xiāng bī rì yǐ shèn 。 yù jiāng wǒ sī liè 。 qiē chǐ wéi hé yīn 。 zuì jiǔ qiě bǎo dé 。 cǐ qíng zhǔ yīng jiàn 。 níng néng cháng mò mò 。 qí sù bǎo wú mìng 。 mò wéi qún shī shí 。 huì dāng zài zhòng qián 。 xuān yáng zhǔ ēn zé 。 mò líng mèi liáng zhě 。 xīn rán kàn wǒ jué 。 wú gù lè wǒ huò 。 méi mù chuán yuè yì 。 suǒ yì fēi hé píng 。 suǒ huái wéi guǐ jué 。 yù zhōng shàn liáng rén 。 bù dé xiǎng ān yì 。 jiàn wǒ zāo diān pèi 。 qún nì xiào xià xià 。 wú mù yì hé xìng 。 dé yì cǐ yī rì 。 jiān qíng shí zhāo zhù 。 wú zhǔ níng bù chá 。 qí zhǔ wú xiá qì 。 yī shēn wú zhī zhí 。 fā yáng ěr zhèng yì 。 wú líng zhōng shòu qū 。 mò shǐ bǐ qún xiǎo 。 yáng yáng xǐ qì yì 。 dàn guān gòng xiāng qìng 。 jìng jiāng bǐ tūn miè 。 wù shǐ xìng zāi zhě 。 nòng qiǎo fǎn chéng zhuō 。 dàn yuàn zhèng zhí rén 。 huān hū kāi xiōng yì 。 dà gōng wéi yǎ wěi 。 zhōng liáng bì mēng zhì 。 shèng dé hé rì wàng 。 sòng shēng shàng chún shé 。

With thanks to Simon Wong.

Silas / Silvanus

The Greek that is transliterated as “Silas” or “Silvanus” in English means “lover of words,” “of the forest” (source: Cornwall / Smith 1997).

The Greek form of Silvanus (Σιλουανός) likely reflects the Latin spelling (Silvanus) of a more typical Greek name Silas (Σιλᾶς). Latin was the official language of the Roman Empire, whereas Greek was the lingua franca used in most parts of the ancient world. It was very common for a person with wide travel experience in New Testament times to have more than one name; Paul would be another example (Saul and Paul). Ancient Latin pronounced “v” as “w” in modern English; because the Greek used in New Testament times did not have a letter with “w” sound, the diphthong “ου” (pronounced as “oo”) would be its closest equivalent. This explains the relationship between the spelling Σιλουανός and its Latin equivalent Silvanus. (Source: Simon Wong)

In Spanish Sign Language both names are translated with a sign depicting “chains falling off,” referring to Acts 16:26. (Source: Steve Parkhurst)


“Silas / Silvanus” in Spanish Sign Language, source: Sociedad Bíblica de España

For more information on translations of proper names with sign language see Sign Language Bible Translations Have Something to Say to Hearing Christians .

More information on Silas .

Psalm 12 as classical Chinese poetry

John Wu Ching-hsiung (1899-1986) was a native of Ningbo, Zhejiang, a renowned jurist who studied in Europe and the United States, and served as a professor of law at Soochow University, as a judge and the Acting President of the Shanghai Provisional Court, and as the Vice President of the Commission for the Drafting of the Constitution of the Republic of China, before becoming the Minister of the Republic of China to the Holy See. Wu has written extensively, not only on law but also on Chinese philosophy, and has also written his autobiography, Beyond East and West, in English. Wu was a devout Catholic and had a personal relationship with Chiang Kai-shek (1887-1975). Wu began translating the the Psalms in 1938, and was encouraged by Chiang to translate the entire New Testament, which he corrected in his own handwriting. (…) John Wu Ching-hsiung’s translation of the Psalms (first draft in 1946, revised in 1975) was translated into Literary Chinese in the form of poetic rhyme, with attention paid to the style of writing. According to the content and mood of the different chapters of the original psalm, Wu chose Chinese poetic forms such as tetrameter, pentameter, heptameter [4, 5 or 7 syllables/Chinese characters per stanza], and the [less formal] Sao style, and sometimes more than two poetic forms were used in a single poem. (Source: Simon Wong)

John Wu Ching-hsiung himself talks about his celebrated and much-admired (though difficult-to-understand) translation in his aforementioned autobiography: (Click or tap here to see)

“Nothing could have been farther from my mind than to translate the Bible or any parts of it with a view to publishing it as an authorized version. I had rendered some of the Psalms into Chinese verse, but that was done as a part of my private devotion and as a literary hobby. When I was in Hongkong in 1938, I had come to know Madame H. H. Kung [Soong Ai-ling], and as she was deeply interested in the Bible, I gave her about a dozen pieces of my amateurish work just for her own enjoyment. What was my surprise when, the next time I saw her, she told me, “My sister [Soong Mei-ling] has written to say that the Generalissimo [Chiang Kai-shek] likes your translation of the Psalms very much, especially the first, the fifteenth, and the twenty-third, the Psalm of the Good Shepherd!”

“In the Autumn of 1940, when I was in Chungking, the Generalissimo invited me several times to lunch with him and expressed his appreciation of the few pieces that he had read. So I sent him some more. A few days later I received a letter from Madame Chiang [Soong Mei-ling], dated September 21, 1940, in which she said that they both liked my translation of the few Psalms I had sent them. ‘For many years,’ she wrote, ‘the Generalissimo has been wanting to have a really adequate and readable Wen-li (literary) translation of the Bible. He has never been able to find anyone who could undertake the matter.’ The letter ends up by saying that I should take up the job and that ‘the Generalissimo would gladly finance the undertaking of this work.’

“After some preliminary study of the commentaries, I started my work with the Psalms on January 6, 1943, the Feast of the Epiphany.

“I had three thousand years of Chinese literature to draw upon. The Chinese vocabulary for describing the beauties of nature is so rich that I seldom failed to find a word, a phrase, and sometimes even a whole line to fit the scene. But what makes such Psalms so unique is that they bring an intimate knowledge of the Creator to bear upon a loving observation of things of nature. I think one of the reasons why my translation is so well received by the Chinese scholars is that I have made the Psalms read like native poems written by a Chinese, who happens to be a Christian. Thus to my countrymen they are at once familiar and new — not so familiar as to be jejune, and not so new as to be bizarre. I did not publish it as a literal translation, but only as a paraphrase.

“To my greatest surprise, [my translation of the Psalms] sold like hot dogs. The popularity of that work was beyond my fondest dreams. Numberless papers and periodicals, irrespective of religion, published reviews too good to be true. I was very much tickled when I saw the opening verse of the first Psalm used as a headline on the front page of one of the non-religious dailies.”

A contemporary researcher (Lindblom 2021) mentions this about Wu’s translation: “Wu created a unique and personal work of sacred art that bears the imprint of his own admitted love and devotion, a landmark achievement comparable to Antoni Gaudi’s Basilica of the Sagrada Família in Barcelona, Spain. Although its use is still somewhat limited today, it continues to attract readers for the aforementioned qualities, and continues to be used in prayers and music by those who desire beauty and an authentic Chinese-sounding text that draws from China’s ancient traditions.”

The translation of Psalm 12 from the 1946 edition is in pentameter (the 1946 edition did not have verse numbers either):

世風歎

仁義成絕響。忠信已泯沒。 交友無誠意。口蜜心詭譎。 求主矯浮薄。復使反樸拙。懲罰巧言者。剪截誇誕舌。 此輩炫利口。自謂世無敵。脣舌我自主。誰得相干涉。
雅瑋聞此語。焉能長默默。已見弱者苦。已聞貧人泣。我今將興起。一慰長太息。務使貧與弱。各得其所適。 至誠惟天主。聖道何純質。白銀經七煉。未能方其潔。 主必濟窮民。莫隨斯世溺。 惡逆如橫行。賢良無寧日。

Transcription into Roman alphabet:

shì fēng tàn

rén yì chéng jué xiǎng 。 zhōng xìn yǐ mǐn méi 。 jiāo yǒu wú chéng yì 。 kǒu mì xīn guǐ jué 。 qiú zhǔ jiǎo fú báo 。 fù shǐ fǎn pǔ zhuō 。 chěng fá qiǎo yán zhě 。 jiǎn jié kuā dàn shé 。 cǐ bèi xuàn lì kǒu 。 zì wèi shì wú dí 。 chún shé wǒ zì zhǔ 。 shuí dé xiāng gān shè 。
yǎ wěi wén cǐ yǔ 。 yān néng cháng mò mò 。 yǐ jiàn ruò zhě kǔ 。 yǐ wén pín rén qì 。 wǒ jīn jiāng xīng qǐ 。 yī wèi cháng tài xī 。 wù shǐ pín yǔ ruò 。 gè dé qí suǒ shì 。 zhì chéng wéi tiān zhǔ 。 shèng dào hé chún zhì 。 bái yín jīng qī liàn 。 wèi néng fāng qí jié 。 zhǔ bì jì qióng mín 。 mò suí sī shì nì 。 è nì rú héng xíng 。 xián liáng wú níng rì 。

With thanks to Simon Wong.

Psalm 23 as classical Chinese poetry

John Wu Ching-hsiung (1899-1986) was a native of Ningbo, Zhejiang, a renowned jurist who studied in Europe and the United States, and served as a professor of law at Soochow University, as a judge and the Acting President of the Shanghai Provisional Court, and as the Vice President of the Commission for the Drafting of the Constitution of the Republic of China, before becoming the Minister of the Republic of China to the Holy See. Wu has written extensively, not only on law but also on Chinese philosophy, and has also written his autobiography, Beyond East and West, in English. Wu was a devout Catholic and had a personal relationship with Chiang Kai-shek (1887-1975). Wu began translating the the Psalms in 1938, and was encouraged by Chiang to translate the entire New Testament, which he corrected in his own handwriting. (…) John Wu Ching-hsiung’s translation of the Psalms (first draft in 1946, revised in 1975) was translated into Literary Chinese in the form of poetic rhyme, with attention paid to the style of writing. According to the content and mood of the different chapters of the original psalm, Wu chose Chinese poetic forms such as tetrameter, pentameter, heptameter [4, 5 or 7 syllables/Chinese characters per stanza], and the [less formal] Sao style, and sometimes more than two poetic forms were used in a single poem. (Source: Simon Wong)

John Wu Ching-hsiung himself talks about his celebrated and much-admired (though difficult-to-understand) translation in his aforementioned autobiography: (Click or tap here to see)

“Nothing could have been farther from my mind than to translate the Bible or any parts of it with a view to publishing it as an authorized version. I had rendered some of the Psalms into Chinese verse, but that was done as a part of my private devotion and as a literary hobby. When I was in Hongkong in 1938, I had come to know Madame H. H. Kung [Soong Ai-ling], and as she was deeply interested in the Bible, I gave her about a dozen pieces of my amateurish work just for her own enjoyment. What was my surprise when, the next time I saw her, she told me, “My sister [Soong Mei-ling] has written to say that the Generalissimo [Chiang Kai-shek] likes your translation of the Psalms very much, especially the first, the fifteenth, and the twenty-third, the Psalm of the Good Shepherd!”

“In the Autumn of 1940, when I was in Chungking, the Generalissimo invited me several times to lunch with him and expressed his appreciation of the few pieces that he had read. So I sent him some more. A few days later I received a letter from Madame Chiang [Soong Mei-ling], dated September 21, 1940, in which she said that they both liked my translation of the few Psalms I had sent them. ‘For many years,’ she wrote, ‘the Generalissimo has been wanting to have a really adequate and readable Wen-li (literary) translation of the Bible. He has never been able to find anyone who could undertake the matter.’ The letter ends up by saying that I should take up the job and that ‘the Generalissimo would gladly finance the undertaking of this work.’

“After some preliminary study of the commentaries, I started my work with the Psalms on January 6, 1943, the Feast of the Epiphany.

“I had three thousand years of Chinese literature to draw upon. The Chinese vocabulary for describing the beauties of nature is so rich that I seldom failed to find a word, a phrase, and sometimes even a whole line to fit the scene. But what makes such Psalms so unique is that they bring an intimate knowledge of the Creator to bear upon a loving observation of things of nature. I think one of the reasons why my translation is so well received by the Chinese scholars is that I have made the Psalms read like native poems written by a Chinese, who happens to be a Christian. Thus to my countrymen they are at once familiar and new — not so familiar as to be jejune, and not so new as to be bizarre. I did not publish it as a literal translation, but only as a paraphrase.

“To my greatest surprise, [my translation of the Psalms] sold like hot dogs. The popularity of that work was beyond my fondest dreams. Numberless papers and periodicals, irrespective of religion, published reviews too good to be true. I was very much tickled when I saw the opening verse of the first Psalm used as a headline on the front page of one of the non-religious dailies.”

A contemporary researcher (Lindblom 2021) mentions this about Wu’s translation: “Wu created a unique and personal work of sacred art that bears the imprint of his own admitted love and devotion, a landmark achievement comparable to Antoni Gaudi’s Basilica of the Sagrada Família in Barcelona, Spain. Although its use is still somewhat limited today, it continues to attract readers for the aforementioned qualities, and continues to be used in prayers and music by those who desire beauty and an authentic Chinese-sounding text that draws from China’s ancient traditions.”

The translation of Psalm 23 from the 1946 edition is in pentameter and the rhyme scheme is -ou (the 1946 edition did not have verse numbers either):

良牧

主乃我之牧。所需百無憂。 令我草上憩。引我澤畔游。 吾魂得復蘇。仁育一何周。更為聖名故。率我正道由。 雖經陰谷裏。主在我何愁。爾策與爾杖。實令我心休。 讌我群敵前。感爾恩施優。靈膏沐我首。玉爵盈欲流。 慈惠共聖澤。長與我為儔。行藏勿離主。此外更何求。
靠。孤兒兮無父。惟主兮是怙。 求主痛擊群姦兮。折其臂膀。 窮究妖孽兮。降以淪喪。惟我天主兮。永古為王。與主為敵兮。靡有不亡。 主已垂聽兮。謙者之音。必賜慰藉兮。堅固其心。 伸彼冤屈兮。保彼焭獨。莫令凡人兮。擅作威福。

Transcription into Roman alphabet with the rhyme scheme highlighted:

liáng mù

zhǔ nǎi wǒ zhī mù 。 suǒ xū bǎi wú yōu 。 líng wǒ cǎo shàng qì 。 yǐn wǒ zé pàn yóu 。 wú hún dé fù sū 。 rén yù yī hé zhōu 。 gēng wéi shèng míng gù 。 shuài wǒ zhèng dào yóu 。 suī jīng yīn gǔ lǐ 。 zhǔ zài wǒ hé chóu 。 ěr cè yǔ ěr zhàng 。 shí líng wǒ xīn xiū 。 mā wǒ qún dí qián 。 gǎn ěr ēn shī yōu 。 líng gāo mù wǒ shǒu 。 yù jué yíng yù liú 。 cí huì gòng shèng zé 。 cháng yǔ wǒ wéi chóu 。 xíng cáng wù lí zhǔ 。 cǐ wài gēng hé qiú 。

This translation of Psalm 23 has also been set to music by individual artists (see Hu Mingzhe’s 胡明哲 version ) and is used in Catholic hymnals .

With thanks to Simon Wong.

Psalm 2 as classical Chinese poetry

John Wu Ching-hsiung (1899-1986) was a native of Ningbo, Zhejiang, a renowned jurist who studied in Europe and the United States, and served as a professor of law at Soochow University, as a judge and the Acting President of the Shanghai Provisional Court, and as the Vice President of the Commission for the Drafting of the Constitution of the Republic of China, before becoming the Minister of the Republic of China to the Holy See. Wu has written extensively, not only on law but also on Chinese philosophy, and has also written his autobiography, Beyond East and West, in English. Wu was a devout Catholic and had a personal relationship with Chiang Kai-shek (1887-1975). Wu began translating the the Psalms in 1938, and was encouraged by Chiang to translate the entire New Testament, which he corrected in his own handwriting. (…) John Wu Ching-hsiung’s translation of the Psalms (first draft in 1946, revised in 1975) was translated into Literary Chinese in the form of poetic rhyme, with attention paid to the style of writing. According to the content and mood of the different chapters of the original psalm, Wu chose Chinese poetic forms such as tetrameter, pentameter, heptameter [4, 5 or 7 syllables/Chinese characters per stanza], and the [less formal] Sao style, and sometimes more than two poetic forms were used in a single poem. (Source: Simon Wong)

John Wu Ching-hsiung himself talks about his celebrated and much-admired (though difficult-to-understand) translation in his aforementioned autobiography: (Click or tap here to see)

“Nothing could have been farther from my mind than to translate the Bible or any parts of it with a view to publishing it as an authorized version. I had rendered some of the Psalms into Chinese verse, but that was done as a part of my private devotion and as a literary hobby. When I was in Hongkong in 1938, I had come to know Madame H. H. Kung [Soong Ai-ling], and as she was deeply interested in the Bible, I gave her about a dozen pieces of my amateurish work just for her own enjoyment. What was my surprise when, the next time I saw her, she told me, “My sister [Soong Mei-ling] has written to say that the Generalissimo [Chiang Kai-shek] likes your translation of the Psalms very much, especially the first, the fifteenth, and the twenty-third, the Psalm of the Good Shepherd!”

“In the Autumn of 1940, when I was in Chungking, the Generalissimo invited me several times to lunch with him and expressed his appreciation of the few pieces that he had read. So I sent him some more. A few days later I received a letter from Madame Chiang [Soong Mei-ling], dated September 21, 1940, in which she said that they both liked my translation of the few Psalms I had sent them. ‘For many years,’ she wrote, ‘the Generalissimo has been wanting to have a really adequate and readable Wen-li (literary) translation of the Bible. He has never been able to find anyone who could undertake the matter.’ The letter ends up by saying that I should take up the job and that ‘the Generalissimo would gladly finance the undertaking of this work.’

“After some preliminary study of the commentaries, I started my work with the Psalms on January 6, 1943, the Feast of the Epiphany.

“I had three thousand years of Chinese literature to draw upon. The Chinese vocabulary for describing the beauties of nature is so rich that I seldom failed to find a word, a phrase, and sometimes even a whole line to fit the scene. But what makes such Psalms so unique is that they bring an intimate knowledge of the Creator to bear upon a loving observation of things of nature. I think one of the reasons why my translation is so well received by the Chinese scholars is that I have made the Psalms read like native poems written by a Chinese, who happens to be a Christian. Thus to my countrymen they are at once familiar and new — not so familiar as to be jejune, and not so new as to be bizarre. I did not publish it as a literal translation, but only as a paraphrase.

“To my greatest surprise, [my translation of the Psalms] sold like hot dogs. The popularity of that work was beyond my fondest dreams. Numberless papers and periodicals, irrespective of religion, published reviews too good to be true. I was very much tickled when I saw the opening verse of the first Psalm used as a headline on the front page of one of the non-religious dailies.”


A contemporary researcher (Lindblom 2021) mentions this about Wu’s translation: “Wu created a unique and personal work of sacred art that bears the imprint of his own admitted love and devotion, a landmark achievement comparable to Antoni Gaudi’s Basilica of the Sagrada Família in Barcelona, Spain. Although its use is still somewhat limited today, it continues to attract readers for the aforementioned qualities, and continues to be used in prayers and music by those who desire beauty and an authentic Chinese-sounding text that draws from China’s ancient traditions.”

The translation of Psalm 2 from the 1946 edition in the so-called Sao style (the 1946 edition did not have verse numbers either and underlined proper names):

順與逆

何列邦之擾攘兮。何萬民之猖狂。 世酋蠭起兮。跋扈飛揚。共圖背叛天主兮。反抗受命之王。 曰吾儕豈長甘羈絆兮。盍解其縛而脫其繮。
在天者必大笑兮。笑蜉蝣之不知自量。 終必勃然而怒兮。以懲當車之螳螂。 主曰吾已立君於西溫聖山之上兮。 君曰吾將宣聖旨於萬方。主曾告予兮。爾為予新得之元良。 予必應爾所求兮。如聲斯響。普天率土兮。莫非吾兒之宇疆。 爾當執鐵杖以粉碎群逆兮。有如瓦缶與壺觴。
嗚呼世之侯王兮。盍不及早省悟。鳴呼世之法吏兮。盍不自守法度。 小心翼翼以事主兮。寓歡樂於敬懼。 心悅誠服以順命兮。免天帝之震怒。何苦自取滅亡兮。自絕於康莊之大路。須知惟有委順兮。能邀無窮之福祚。

Transcription into Roman alphabet with the particle xī, that is characteristic for the Sao style, highlighted:

shùn yǔ nì

hé liè bāng zhī rǎo rǎng xī 。 hé wàn mín zhī chāng kuáng 。 shì qiú fēng qǐ xī 。 bá hù fēi yáng 。 gòng tú bèi pàn tiān zhǔ xī 。 fǎn kàng shòu mìng zhī wáng 。 yuē wú chái qǐ cháng gān jī bàn xī 。 hé jiě qí fù ér tuō qí jiāng 。
zài tiān zhě bì dà xiào xī 。 xiào fú yóu zhī bù zhī zì liáng 。 zhōng bì bó rán ér nù xī 。 yǐ chěng dāng chē zhī táng láng 。 zhǔ yuē wú yǐ lì jūn yú xī wēn shèng shān zhī shàng xī 。 jūn yuē wú jiāng xuān shèng zhǐ yú wàn fāng 。 zhǔ zēng gào yú xī 。 ěr wéi yú xīn dé zhī yuán liáng 。 yú bì yīng ěr suǒ qiú xī 。 rú shēng sī xiǎng 。 pǔ tiān shuài tǔ xī 。 mò fēi wú ér zhī yǔ jiāng 。 ěr dāng zhí tiě zhàng yǐ fěn suì qún nì xī 。 yǒu rú wǎ fǒu yǔ hú shāng 。
wū hū shì zhī hóu wáng xī 。 hé bù jí zǎo shěng wù 。 míng hū shì zhī fǎ lì xī 。 hé bù zì shǒu fǎ dù 。 xiǎo xīn yì yì yǐ shì zhǔ xī 。 yù huān lè yú jìng jù 。 xīn yuè chéng fú yǐ shùn mìng xī 。 miǎn tiān dì zhī zhèn nù 。 hé kǔ zì qǔ miè wáng xī 。 zì jué yú kāng zhuāng zhī dà lù 。 xū zhī wéi yǒu wěi shùn xī 。 néng yāo wú qióng zhī fú zuò 。

With thanks to Simon Wong.

Psalm 13 as classical Chinese poetry

John Wu Ching-hsiung (1899-1986) was a native of Ningbo, Zhejiang, a renowned jurist who studied in Europe and the United States, and served as a professor of law at Soochow University, as a judge and the Acting President of the Shanghai Provisional Court, and as the Vice President of the Commission for the Drafting of the Constitution of the Republic of China, before becoming the Minister of the Republic of China to the Holy See. Wu has written extensively, not only on law but also on Chinese philosophy, and has also written his autobiography, Beyond East and West, in English. Wu was a devout Catholic and had a personal relationship with Chiang Kai-shek (1887-1975). Wu began translating the the Psalms in 1938, and was encouraged by Chiang to translate the entire New Testament, which he corrected in his own handwriting. (…) John Wu Ching-hsiung’s translation of the Psalms (first draft in 1946, revised in 1975) was translated into Literary Chinese in the form of poetic rhyme, with attention paid to the style of writing. According to the content and mood of the different chapters of the original psalm, Wu chose Chinese poetic forms such as tetrameter, pentameter, heptameter [4, 5 or 7 syllables/Chinese characters per stanza], and the [less formal] Sao style, and sometimes more than two poetic forms were used in a single poem. (Source: Simon Wong)

John Wu Ching-hsiung himself talks about his celebrated and much-admired (though difficult-to-understand) translation in his aforementioned autobiography: (Click or tap here to see)

“Nothing could have been farther from my mind than to translate the Bible or any parts of it with a view to publishing it as an authorized version. I had rendered some of the Psalms into Chinese verse, but that was done as a part of my private devotion and as a literary hobby. When I was in Hongkong in 1938, I had come to know Madame H. H. Kung [Soong Ai-ling], and as she was deeply interested in the Bible, I gave her about a dozen pieces of my amateurish work just for her own enjoyment. What was my surprise when, the next time I saw her, she told me, “My sister [Soong Mei-ling] has written to say that the Generalissimo [Chiang Kai-shek] likes your translation of the Psalms very much, especially the first, the fifteenth, and the twenty-third, the Psalm of the Good Shepherd!”

“In the Autumn of 1940, when I was in Chungking, the Generalissimo invited me several times to lunch with him and expressed his appreciation of the few pieces that he had read. So I sent him some more. A few days later I received a letter from Madame Chiang [Soong Mei-ling], dated September 21, 1940, in which she said that they both liked my translation of the few Psalms I had sent them. ‘For many years,’ she wrote, ‘the Generalissimo has been wanting to have a really adequate and readable Wen-li (literary) translation of the Bible. He has never been able to find anyone who could undertake the matter.’ The letter ends up by saying that I should take up the job and that ‘the Generalissimo would gladly finance the undertaking of this work.’

“After some preliminary study of the commentaries, I started my work with the Psalms on January 6, 1943, the Feast of the Epiphany.

“I had three thousand years of Chinese literature to draw upon. The Chinese vocabulary for describing the beauties of nature is so rich that I seldom failed to find a word, a phrase, and sometimes even a whole line to fit the scene. But what makes such Psalms so unique is that they bring an intimate knowledge of the Creator to bear upon a loving observation of things of nature. I think one of the reasons why my translation is so well received by the Chinese scholars is that I have made the Psalms read like native poems written by a Chinese, who happens to be a Christian. Thus to my countrymen they are at once familiar and new — not so familiar as to be jejune, and not so new as to be bizarre. I did not publish it as a literal translation, but only as a paraphrase.

“To my greatest surprise, [my translation of the Psalms] sold like hot dogs. The popularity of that work was beyond my fondest dreams. Numberless papers and periodicals, irrespective of religion, published reviews too good to be true. I was very much tickled when I saw the opening verse of the first Psalm used as a headline on the front page of one of the non-religious dailies.”

A contemporary researcher (Lindblom 2021) mentions this about Wu’s translation: “Wu created a unique and personal work of sacred art that bears the imprint of his own admitted love and devotion, a landmark achievement comparable to Antoni Gaudi’s Basilica of the Sagrada Família in Barcelona, Spain. Although its use is still somewhat limited today, it continues to attract readers for the aforementioned qualities, and continues to be used in prayers and music by those who desire beauty and an authentic Chinese-sounding text that draws from China’s ancient traditions.”

The translation of Psalm 13 from the 1946 edition is in the so-called Sao style (the 1946 edition did not have verse numbers either):

夜如何其

吁嗟天主兮。盍其有極。棄我如遺兮。慈顏恆匿。 不見吾主兮。中心悒悒。黯然銷魂兮。將至何日。敵人高壓兮。何時得息。 主其垂青兮。應我之求。賜光明於吾目兮。庶免昏睡而長休。 豈可使彼敵人兮。幸吾災而樂吾憂。 我之恃主兮。始末不渝。終必蒙救兮。賜以歡愉。我當謳歌兮。詠主德之特殊。

Transcription into Roman alphabet with the particle xī, that is characteristic for the Sao style, highlighted:

yè rú hé qí

xū jiē tiān zhǔ xī 。 hé qí yǒu jí 。 qì wǒ rú yí xī 。 cí yán héng nì 。 bù jiàn wú zhǔ xī 。 zhōng xīn yì yì 。 àn rán xiāo hún xī 。 jiāng zhì hé rì 。 dí rén gāo yā xī 。 hé shí dé xī 。 zhǔ qí chuí qīng xī 。 yīng wǒ zhī qiú 。 cì guāng míng yú wú mù xī 。 shù miǎn hūn shuì ér cháng xiū 。 qǐ kě shǐ bǐ dí rén xī 。 xìng wú zāi ér lè wú yōu 。 wǒ zhī shì zhǔ xī 。 shǐ mò bù yú 。 zhōng bì mēng jiù xī 。 cì yǐ huān yú 。 wǒ dāng ōu gē xī 。 yǒng zhǔ dé zhī tè shū 。

With thanks to Simon Wong.

Psalm 3 as classical Chinese poetry

John Wu Ching-hsiung (1899-1986) was a native of Ningbo, Zhejiang, a renowned jurist who studied in Europe and the United States, and served as a professor of law at Soochow University, as a judge and the Acting President of the Shanghai Provisional Court, and as the Vice President of the Commission for the Drafting of the Constitution of the Republic of China, before becoming the Minister of the Republic of China to the Holy See. Wu has written extensively, not only on law but also on Chinese philosophy, and has also written his autobiography, Beyond East and West, in English. Wu was a devout Catholic and had a personal relationship with Chiang Kai-shek (1887-1975). Wu began translating the the Psalms in 1938, and was encouraged by Chiang to translate the entire New Testament, which he corrected in his own handwriting. (…) John Wu Ching-hsiung’s translation of the Psalms (first draft in 1946, revised in 1975) was translated into Literary Chinese in the form of poetic rhyme, with attention paid to the style of writing. According to the content and mood of the different chapters of the original psalm, Wu chose Chinese poetic forms such as tetrameter, pentameter, heptameter [4, 5 or 7 syllables/Chinese characters per stanza], and the [less formal] Sao style, and sometimes more than two poetic forms were used in a single poem. (Source: Simon Wong)

John Wu Ching-hsiung himself talks about his celebrated and much-admired (though difficult-to-understand) translation in his aforementioned autobiography: (Click or tap here to see)

“Nothing could have been farther from my mind than to translate the Bible or any parts of it with a view to publishing it as an authorized version. I had rendered some of the Psalms into Chinese verse, but that was done as a part of my private devotion and as a literary hobby. When I was in Hongkong in 1938, I had come to know Madame H. H. Kung [Soong Ai-ling], and as she was deeply interested in the Bible, I gave her about a dozen pieces of my amateurish work just for her own enjoyment. What was my surprise when, the next time I saw her, she told me, “My sister [Soong Mei-ling] has written to say that the Generalissimo [Chiang Kai-shek] likes your translation of the Psalms very much, especially the first, the fifteenth, and the twenty-third, the Psalm of the Good Shepherd!”

“In the Autumn of 1940, when I was in Chungking, the Generalissimo invited me several times to lunch with him and expressed his appreciation of the few pieces that he had read. So I sent him some more. A few days later I received a letter from Madame Chiang [Soong Mei-ling], dated September 21, 1940, in which she said that they both liked my translation of the few Psalms I had sent them. ‘For many years,’ she wrote, ‘the Generalissimo has been wanting to have a really adequate and readable Wen-li (literary) translation of the Bible. He has never been able to find anyone who could undertake the matter.’ The letter ends up by saying that I should take up the job and that ‘the Generalissimo would gladly finance the undertaking of this work.’

“After some preliminary study of the commentaries, I started my work with the Psalms on January 6, 1943, the Feast of the Epiphany.

“I had three thousand years of Chinese literature to draw upon. The Chinese vocabulary for describing the beauties of nature is so rich that I seldom failed to find a word, a phrase, and sometimes even a whole line to fit the scene. But what makes such Psalms so unique is that they bring an intimate knowledge of the Creator to bear upon a loving observation of things of nature. I think one of the reasons why my translation is so well received by the Chinese scholars is that I have made the Psalms read like native poems written by a Chinese, who happens to be a Christian. Thus to my countrymen they are at once familiar and new — not so familiar as to be jejune, and not so new as to be bizarre. I did not publish it as a literal translation, but only as a paraphrase.

“To my greatest surprise, [my translation of the Psalms] sold like hot dogs. The popularity of that work was beyond my fondest dreams. Numberless papers and periodicals, irrespective of religion, published reviews too good to be true. I was very much tickled when I saw the opening verse of the first Psalm used as a headline on the front page of one of the non-religious dailies.”


A contemporary researcher (Lindblom 2021) mentions this about Wu’s translation: “Wu created a unique and personal work of sacred art that bears the imprint of his own admitted love and devotion, a landmark achievement comparable to Antoni Gaudi’s Basilica of the Sagrada Família in Barcelona, Spain. Although its use is still somewhat limited today, it continues to attract readers for the aforementioned qualities, and continues to be used in prayers and music by those who desire beauty and an authentic Chinese-sounding text that draws from China’s ancient traditions.”

The translation of Psalm 3 from the 1946 edition is in tetrameter and pentameter (the 1946 edition did not have verse numbers either):

恃主無恐

主乎主乎。吾敵何多。耀武揚威。向我操戈。 曰彼無神助。其如予何。
主作我盾。護我周圍。主為我光。令我揚眉。 竭聲籲主。聲達靈帷。
寤寐思服。主恩罔極。 雖在重圍。何所用懾。
主乎救我。俯聽悲嗟。既批敵頰。又折其牙。 鮮民何恃。主德無涯。

Transcription into Roman alphabet:

shì zhǔ wú kǒng

zhǔ hū zhǔ hū 。 wú dí hé duō 。 yào wǔ yáng wēi 。 xiàng wǒ cāo gē 。 yuē bǐ wú shén zhù 。 qí rú yú hé 。
zhǔ zuò wǒ dùn 。 hù wǒ zhōu wéi 。 zhǔ wéi wǒ guāng 。 líng wǒ yáng méi 。 jié shēng xū zhǔ 。 shēng dá líng wéi 。
wù mèi sī fú 。 zhǔ ēn wǎng jí 。 suī zài zhòng wéi 。 hé suǒ yòng shè 。
zhǔ hū jiù wǒ 。 fǔ tīng bēi jiē 。 jì pī dí jiá 。 yòu zhē qí yá 。 xiān mín hé shì 。 zhǔ dé wú yá 。

With thanks to Simon Wong.