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หวนคะนึงถึงวันที่ผ่านโพ้น Text and photographs: Christine Routier le Diraison Thai adaptation : Khunying Chamnongsri Hanchanlash Both writers, both women, from different backgrounds. Their feelings come across to meet in the same sensibility, the same emotion. Christine Routier le Diraison French travel writer and photojournalist. She has written several books on Thailand, guidebooks, art books and reports, as well as on other countries. Her photographs have been exhibited in Thailand after Europe, Africa and the Middle East. คริสตีน รูจิเยร์ เลอดิเรช็อง นักหนังสือพิมพ์ ศิลปินช่างภาพ และนักประพันธ์สารคดีท่องเที่ยว มีผลงานหลายเล่มเกี่ยวกับประเทศไทย และประเทศอื่นๆ ในเอเชีย เคยแสดงนิทรรศการภาพถ่ายในไทย และที่อื่นๆของโลก ไม่ว่าจะเป็นยุโรป แอฟริกา และตะวันออกกลาง Chamnongsri Rutnin (Khunying Chamnongsri Hanchanlash) Well-known Thai writer, poet and columnist. Her publications in Thai and English include poetry, plays, biographies, philosophy, critiques and children stories. She is often invited to lecture both in Thailand and abroad. คุณหญิงจำนงศรี หาญเจนลักษณ์ กวี นักประพันธ์ นักคิดที่มีผลงานทั้งภาษาไทยและอังกฤษ ด้านกวีนิพนธ์ งานเชิงประวัติศาสตร์ งานวิจารณ์ ปรัชญา บทละครและหนังสือเด็ก เป็นวิทยากรรับเชิญทั้งในและต่างประเทศ เคยเป็นนักหนังสือพิมพ์ กรรมการตัดสินรางวัลวรรณกรรมซีไรท์ ฯลฯ NOSTALGIA? Nostalgia: a sentimental yearning for the irretrievable past. I felt it flooding over me when, after thirty years, I discovered boxes filled with photographs I took in Asia in the early seventies. What have become all those faces? Whither have they vanished? These black and white pictures brought back those times when traveling was still a rare pleasure. Embarking was like opening a blank page. The journey itself was the opening of observant eyes - fully ready to be amazed - to ever new sights of people and places. Whenever I look at these pictures again today, I can see that the amazement was shared, for it was also reflected in the depths of the eyes captured by the lens of my camera. Should the passing of vanished days be a source of regrets? From the Buddhist viewpoint, neither the Past nor the Future merit serious interest. The true value lies in the Present. When I look now into the faces of children, women and men in the remote countryside of Thailand, on the out-lying edges of the Mekong river and the jungle-rimmed villages of Laos, I can still see the same glances and the same smiles as those that I saw in the eyes and faces of thirty years ago. I recognize the similarity in the fullness of their humanity. Christine Routier le Diraison หวนคะนึงถึงวันที่ผ่านโพ้น ฉันหวนคะนึงถึงอดีตด้วยอาลัย เมื่อได้พบกล่องหลายกล่องที่เต็มไปด้วยรูปที่ถ่ายในเอเชีย ช่วง พ.ศ. 2512 ถึง 2516 เวลาผ่านไปกว่า 30 ปี ใบหน้าในรูปถ่ายหายหนไหนหนอ รูปขาวดำเหล่านี้พาฉันย้อนไปถึงสมัยที่การท่องเที่ยวยังเป็นความสำราญที่หาได้ไม่ง่ายนัก ก้าวแรกเป็นการเปิดหน้ากระดาษขาวที่ยังว่างเปล่า การเดินทางเป็นการเปิดตามองชีวิตและสถานที่ที่แปลกใหม่ด้วยความตื่นใจ และเมื่อกลับมาพินิจดูรูปที่ถ่ายไว้ในสมัยนั้น ฉันก็เห็นความตื่นใจสะท้อนอยู่ในแววตาของผู้คนในรูปที่เลนซ์กล้องบันทึกไว้ ควรหรือที่เราจะถวิลหาสิ่งที่มลายหายไปสิ้นแล้ว มุมมองพุทธศาสนาเห็นว่าคนเราไม่น่าใส่ใจกับอดีตที่ผ่านไปแล้วและกับอนาคตที่ยังไม่มาถึง ปัจจุบันที่เป็นจริงเท่านั้นที่น่าพิจารณา ทว่าทุกวันนี้ เมื่อฉันพบผู้คนในชนบทอันไกลโพ้น ตามแถบลำโขงของไทย ตามหมู่บ้านกลางดงดอยของลาว ฉันก็ยังเห็นสายตากับรอยยิ้มเหมือนที่เคยเห็นเมื่อ30ปีก่อน... เป็นความละม้ายคล้ายกันในศักดิ์ศรีแห่งความเป็นมนุษย์

Lucian Blaga English Translation by Chamnongsri L. Rutnin Photo by Chamnongsri Hanchanlash LIGHT This radiance flooding my heart when I look at you, is it not a spark from the life-thirsting light that was created on the first day of time? Nothingness lay agonized adrift in the darkness of the unknown, when the Unfathomed One signaled “Let there be light!” All of a sudden appeared an ocean and turbulent storm of light, a searing thirst for sin, a desire, passion, ardour and yearning for the world and the sun. That dazzling blinding light where has it vanished? Who knows? Perhaps, the radiance that floods my heart as I look at you is the last spark of the light that blazed on that first day of time. Photo by Chamnongsri Hanchanlash Mountain, Embody Me Even though all I have is you, transient body, I shall not crown you with blossoms - crimson and white; for your fragile clay is too puny for the boundless soul that is mine. You, mountains and seas, embody me, embody me ‘til all my madness is done. Vast earth, be my frame, be the breast over this tumultuous heart be the seat of the storms that torment me be the vessel that holds this wayward self. My immense steps would then be heard throughout the universe and my manifestations would be impetuous and free as I, Sacred Earth! In love, I would lift all the seas up to the sky with strong, wild, ardent arms - up to the sky to clasp it to break its girth to kiss its flashing stars. In hate, I would crunch under my stone feet all the poor wandering suns and, perhaps, smile. But, transient body, all I have is you. Even though all I have is you, transient body, I shall not crown you with blossoms - crimson and white; for your fragile clay is too puny for the boundless soul that is mine. You, mountains and seas, embody me, embody me ‘til all my madness is done. Vast earth, be my frame, be the breast over this tumultuous heart be the seat of the storms that torment me be the vessel that holds this wayward self. My immense steps would then be heard throughout the universe and my manifestations would be impetuous and free as I, Sacred Earth! In love, I would lift all the seas up to the sky with strong, wild, ardent arms - up to the sky to clasp it to break its girth to kiss its flashing stars. In hate, I would crunch under my stone feet all the poor wandering suns and, perhaps, smile. But, transient body, all I have is you. Photo by Chamnongsri Hanchanlash I Crush Not the World’s Coronet of Wonders I crush not the world’s coronet of wonders. My mind murders not the mysteries met on my ways - in flowers, or eyes, on lips or graves. Others’ lights stifle the spells of the concealed, unpenetrated in the cavernous depths of darkness. But I, my light augments enigmas of the world just as the moon’s pallid beams diminish not, but shimmering, intensify night’s mysteries. I enrich the shadowed horizon with shudders, great shudders of sainted secrets, and things uncomprehended will grows more incomprehensible under my watching eyes, for I so love flowers and eyes, and lips, and graves.

ปณิธานกวี Ankarn Kalayanapongse The S.E.A. Write Award 1986 Translated : Khunying Chamnongsri Hanchanlash จาก ปณิธานกวี ผลงานรางวัลวรรณกรรมสร้างสรรค์ยอดเยี่ยมแห่งอาเซียน ปี 2529 ของ อังคาร กัลยาณพงศ์ Photo David Mark ใครจะอาจซื้อขายฟ้ามหาสมุทร แสนวิสุทธิ์โลกนี้ที่พระสร้าง Who would dare trade skies and oceans? Wondrous creation is this world of ours. สุดท้ายกายวิภาคจะจากวาง ไว้ระหว่างหล้าและฟ้าต่อกันฯ These corporeal parts shall be laid Betwixt earth and sky in the final hours. เรามิใช่เจ้าของฟ้าอวกาศ โลกธาตุทั่วสิ้นทุกสรวงสรรค์ We are not owners of clouds of air, Or the heavens or any elements of earth. มนุษย์มิเคยนฤมิตตะวันจันทร์ แม้แต่เม็ดทรายนั้นสักธุลีฯ Man has made neither moon nor sun Nor a single atom in a grain of sand, แย่งแผ่นดินอำมหิตคิดแต่ฆ่า เพราะกิเลสบ้าหฤโหดสิงซากผี Man cheats and kills to grab empires; Galvanized by greed, the breathing corpse ลืมป่าช้าคุณธรรมความดี เสียศรีสวัสดิ์ค่าแท้วิญญาณฯ Spurns goodness and forgets its grave Abdicating dignity of the human soul. สภาวะสรรพสิ่งทุกส่วนโลกนี้ ควรที่สำนึกค่าทิพย์วิเศษวิศาล Components and elements of this earth Are worth all celestial treasures อนุรักษ์ดินน้ำฟ้าไว้ตลอดกาล เพื่อเหนือทิพยสถานวิมานแก้วไกวัลฯ Cherish forever soil, sky and water Make the world brighter than the heavens. ทุ่งนาป่าชัฏช้าอรัญญิกาลัย เทือกผาใหญ่เสียดดาวดึงส์สวรรค์ Fields, forests and impenetrable wilds High mountains the challenge the clouds เนื้อเบื้อเสือช้างลิงค่างนั้น มดแมลงนานาพันธุ์ทั้งจักรวาลฯ Gibbons, buffalos, tigers, elephants Ants and all species in this universe เสมอเสมือนเพื่อนสนิทมิตรสหาย เกิดร่วมสายเชี่ยววัฏฏะสังสาร Are like man’s intimate beloved friends Companions in circling current of rebirths ชีพหาค่าบ่มิได้นับกาลนาน หวานเสน่ห์ฟ้าหล้าดาราลัยฯ Priceless existences in Time’s ageless span Radiant treasures of immeasurable worth. ถึงใครเหาะเหินวิมุติสุดฝั่งฟ้า เดือนดาริกาเป็นมรคายิ่งใหญ่ Let others soar beyond the infinite skies Or tread cosmic paths of moons and stars; แต่เราขอรักโลกนี้เสมอไป มอบใจแต่ปฐพีทุกชีวีวายฯ But to this living world my heart is pledged To Earth bonded in all my lives and deaths. จะไม่ไปแม้แต่พระนิรพาน จะวนว่ายวัฏฏะสังสารหลากหลาย I shall even refuse Nirvana And suffer the circling wheel of rebirths แปลค่าแท้ดาราจักรมากมาย ไว้เป็นบทกวีแด่จักรวาลฯ To translate the multitudes of wonders Into poems dedicated to this Universe. เพื่อลบทุกข์โศก ณ โลกมนุษย์ ที่สุดสู่ยุคสุขเกษมศานต์ To cleanse the human world of sorrows Until peace glows into a golden age. วารนั้นฉันจะป่นปนดินดาน เป็นฟอสซิลทรมานอยู่จ้องมองฯ Then, my ashes with earth will integrate - - A calcified fossil keeping watch. สิ้นเสน่ห์วรรณศิลป์ชีวิตเสนอ ละเมอหาค่าทิพย์ไหนสนอง If men grew deaf to poetry’s charm What treasures could replace the loss? อเนจอนาถชีวิทุกธุลีละออง สยดสยองแก่ถ่านเถ้าเศร้าโศกนักฯ Ashes and dust would abhor The dryness of the wretched human soul. แล้งโลกกวีที่หล้าวูบฟ้าไหว จะไปรจนารุ้งมณีเกียรติศักดิ์ If this world were barren of poetry Then farewell dear human race. อำลาอาลัยมนุษยชาติน่ารัก จักมุ่งนฤมิตจิตรจักรวาลฯ I would go and build a realm of the mind With jewels of rainbow verses. ให้ซึ้งซาบกาพย์กลอนโคลงฉันท์ ไปทุกชั้นอินทรพรหมพิมานสถาน I shall enchant the celestial realms With priceless wealth of poetry. สร้างสรรค์กุศลศิลป์ไว้อนันตกาล นานช้าอมตะอกาลิโก My spiritual merits in the arts Shall outlast Time’s infinity. A Poet's Pledge Who would dare trade skies and oceans? Wondrous creation is this world of ours. These corporeal parts shall be laid Betwixt earth and sky in the final hours. We are not owners of clouds of air, Or the heavens or any elements of earth. Man has made neither moon nor sun Nor a single atom in a grain of sand, Man cheats and kills to grab empires; Galvanized by greed, the breathing corpse Spurns goodness and forgets its grave Abdicating dignity of the human soul. Components and elements of this earth Are worth all celestial treasures Cherish forever soil, sky and water Make the world brighter than the heavens. Fields, forests and impenetrable wilds High mountains the challenge the clouds Gibbons, buffalos, tigers, elephants Ants and all species in this universe Are like man’s intimate beloved friends Companions in circling current of rebirths Priceless existences in Time’s ageless span Radiant treasures of immeasurable worth. Let others soar beyond the infinite skies Or tread cosmic paths of moons and stars; But to this living world my heart is pledged To Earth bonded in all my lives and deaths. I shall even refuse Nirvana And suffer the circling wheel of rebirths To translate the multitudes of wonders Into poems dedicated to this Universe. To cleanse the human world of sorrows Until peace glows into a golden age. Then, my ashes with earth will integrate - - A calcified fossil keeping watch. If men grew deaf to poetry’s charm What treasures could replace the loss? Ashes and dust would abhor The dryness of the wretched human soul. If this world were barren of poetry Then farewell dear human race. I would go and build a realm of the mind With jewels of rainbow verses. I shall enchant the celestial realms With priceless wealth of poetry. My spiritual merits in the arts Shall outlast Time’s infinity.

อย่าทำน้ำไหว Poet: Noawaret Pongpaiboon The S.E.A. Write Award 1980 Translated : Khunying Chamnongsri Hanchanlash จาก อย่าทำน้ำไหว ใน รวมบทกวี เพียงความเคลื่อนไหว ผลงานรางวัลวรรณกรรมสร้างสรรค์ยอดเยี่ยมแห่งอาเซียน ปี 2523 ของ เนาวรัตน์ พงษ์ไพบูลย์ Illustration: LittleLark Don’t ripple the water อย่าทำน้ำไหว I want to see its infinite clarity ฉันอยากเห็นความใสไม่สุดสิ้น see deep to the moving depths หยั่งลึกไปถึงไหนที่ไหลริน as deep as depths of the mind ลึกถึงจินตนาการประมาณกัน as deep as end of the skies ลึกจนถึงขอบฟ้า or deeper than my eyes หรือว่าลึกว่านัยน์ตาฉัน on gleam of sun-glint bamboo leaves ที่แฉกดาวใบไผ่ไหวตะวัน whispering flute spins soft sweet songs เพลงขลุ่ยผิวแผ่นผันผจงใจ Little insect, do not fidget จิงโจ้น้อยเจ้าอย่ามาจี่จ้ำ don’t ripple the water อย่านะ อย่าทำให้น้ำไหว breeze, don’t ruffle the surface ลมอย่าพ้องต้องน้อยแม้รอยไร let me drink the depth of thought ฉันจะได้ดื่มด่ำกับความคิด who is disturbing the water? ใครทำน้ำไหว my mind, do you quiver so? หวั่นแล้วหรือไรเจ้าดวงจิต clarity fades and disperses กระจ่างจับกลับจางทุกทางทิศ life ripples like a flowing stream โอ้ชีวิตหวั่นไหวดั่งสายน้ำ

ภูหนาว Noawaret Pongpaiboon Collection: Whispering Songs of the Flute Translated : Khunying Chamnongsri Hanchanlash จาก รวมบทกวี เพลงขลุ่ยผิว ของ เนาวรัตน์ พงษ์ไพบูลย์ Cold mountain ภูหนาว always swaddled in white ห่มผ้าสีขาวอยู่เสมอ so tenderly cradled โอบป้องประคองเปรอ to keep out the cold ห่มให้หายหนาว one hand holds the moon มือหนึ่งหยิบดวงเดือน one hand moves a star มือหนึ่งเลื่อนดวงดาว draw a white flannel ชักผ้าสีขาว to shade the flame of the sun คลี่ป้องเปลวตะวัน Cold sea ทะเลหนาว also mantled in white ห่มผ้าสีขาวเหมือนกัน rocking loving lullabies เห่กล่อมถนอมขวัญ to keep loneliness away อย่าว้าเหว่ไหว wait just a while รอก่อนนะมิ่งขวัญ the sun hasn’t lit his torch ตะวันยังไม่จุดไฟ bear a bit with the cold ทนหนาวหน่อยได้ไหม soon it will be dawn จะรุ่งแล้วอีกไม่นาน

The Story of Manohra, The Bird Maiden Chamnongsri Rutnin (Hanchanlash) Illustration : LittleLark The romantic story of Manohra has appealed to the imagination of the Thai people through countless generations. To me, the beauty of this old tale is like a delicate tracery of silver and gold. In the love of Manohra and Prince Suthon is the meeting of the divine world of passionless perfection and the human world of desires and contradictions. This explains the interlacing of the cold, pure sheen of silver with the warm and changeable glow of gold in my vision of the story. In most versions of the tale, Manohra is the youngest sister. However, when I came across, “Manohra Nibat” the idea of Manohra as the eldest appealed to me. How Prince Suthon recognized Manohra at the end of the story is my own invention. In all the traditional Prince Suthon is unable to identify Manohra from her sisters until the god Indra appeared as a fly and alighted on the real Manohra. High among the singing winds and dreaming clouds stands a mountain named Krailas . Its peaks, shimmering and shining like the purest of silver, penetrate the heavens that lie beyond human reach. Giant trees bearing wondrous fruit and flowers forest its silvery slopes. All the inhabitants of Mount Krailas are semi-divine. Among them is a race of beautiful ethereal beings known as kinnorn . the physical forms of these beings are human but with the perfection and grace of the divine. Kinnorn can fly through the air with magnificent bird-like wings and tails . In days gone by, a kinnorn king had seven ravishing daughters, the eldest of whom was named Manohra . Unhappiness was unknown to these princesses. But, being young and playful, they were often bored by the perfection of their existence on the silvery mountain. To escape boredom, the seven sisters would don their wings and tails, and glided down to the foot of the mountain. Their favourite place of play was a shady lake whose placid water was as cool and clear as dew on a winter dawn. Large trees shaded the lake, allowing only slivers of golden sunlight to slant through. Exotic birds, flit here and there, filling the air with songs of unimaginable sweetness. The bird-maidens would leave their wings and tails by the lake while they bathed in the crystalline coolness of the water. They love to play among the lotus blooms that scanted the lake with soft fragrance. At such times, the forest would be filled with the music of their silvery voices and the sunshine of their golden laughter. One day as they frolicked in the lake, Manohra ’s creams pierced the soft morning air. Under the clear water, two great serpents coiled themselves tightly around her, holding her in monstrous bondage. The six younger princesses gathered around in helpless anguish. “Go away!” came a rough shout as an ugly hunter appeared from his hiding place behind a large jamboln tree. “You can’t help your sister! Take your wings and fly back to your mountain, or I’ll send more serpents to catch you all.” Not knowing how to help their sister, the six fearfully fled to their silver palace abandoning Manohra to her unknown fate. “Don’t tremble so, kinnari* No harm will come to you,” the man said to Manohra after the serpents had released her at his command. “Don’t take my wings and tail, kind hunter.” Manohra pleaded. “You can take all these fineries. There are no such gems in your world.” “ No, kinnari, I am not letting you fly away, for you shall be my gift to Prince Suthon. Such a kind and valiant prince deserves a bride from the heavens.” Deprived of wings, Manohra found herself earthbound—a captive of the human world. She was finally brought into the presence of Prince Suthon in his golden palace. The young prince was captivated by the unearthly perfection. The marriage of Prince Suthon and Manohra was celebrated with much rejoicing throughout. The golden kingdom. The occasion was one of great joy to all. The hunter was rewarded with enormous riches. The courtiers and populace talked endlessly of their new princess from the heavens. The king and queen were full of pride in their son’s bride. But the bride did not regain her wings and tail, for the queen had carefully locked them up in her room. Manohra was willingly entrapped by the ecstatic happiness of earthly love. Gradually the divine perfection of her silvery world grew frail in her memory. Through her love for her husband and his people, she grew to feel that she belonged to the human world. She even forgot her wings and tail. The bird-woman felt no more need to fly. Poor Manohra , how ignorant she was of her new-found world! In the palace, there was an evil man who was very powerful in the kingdom. He was the Chief Mystical Diviner of the Court. The kind and his advisors respected this man for they thought that he was wise, and trusted him for they believed in his vision. None of them knew that he had a malicious heart. One day, Prince Suthon unknowingly offended him, and the evil man set his unforgiving heart on revenge. To rid the court of the prince at least for a while, he incited a neighbouring state to make war on the kingdom. This he did with the knowledge that it was Prince Suthon 's duty to lead the army against the aggressors. With Prince Suthon out of the way, the Chief Diviner of the Court soon found his chance for revenge. One night, the queen dreamt that her son’s finest garment was snatched from his body and vanished into the sky. The king summoned the Chief Diviner to interpret the dream. The crafty diviner could hardly hide his glee. “Oh my king! I see the life of your son in deadly danger! I see a golden palace burning! I see our great kingdom consumed by fire!” he cried with pretended anguish. “But… but what shall we do?” stammered the king and his couriers. “We must be rid us of the alien element. The cause of the evil is the woman from the sky, sire… Manohra! Burn her as a sacrifice! The king’s heart froze with fear. He ordered Manohra to be burnt in sacrificial fire. It fell to the queen to fetch Manohra . Poor Manohra was cruelly disillusioned. The ethereal woman was foreign to human fickleness! “Come Mother, do not weep for me ,” she said to the distressed queen who had come to her room. ” Let me please you with the celestial dance that my sisters and I used to do on our mountain.” The queen was spellbound by the unbelievable beauty of the dance. After a while Manohra stopped and said, "The dance is much more beautiful when I wear my wings and tail. May I put them on just for the last time, Mother?” When the queen had brought the wings and tail, the kinnari donned them and danced her exquisite dance. Then, she flew out through the open window and up into the boundless sky. “Goodbye, dear Mother,” the wind carried her voice to the surprised queen who had run to the window. “How wonderful it is to be in the sky again. I have almost forgotten how to fly.” “And what shall I tell my son, Manohra? “Tell him to marry a human woman and forget me. Tell him not to follow me. The distance between the human world and my silvery mountain is immeasurable … but, Mother, don’t forget to tell him that I love him.” In triumph, Prince Suthon returned from his campaign. But when he learnt of Monohra ’s flight, he left the golden palace on the impossible journey to her celestial mountain. Life, death, and Time meant nothing to him in his determination to find Manohra . By the lake at the foot of the mountain, the prince met a holy man with whom Manohra had left a ring and a leaf. On the leaf, she had drawn a map showing the route to her father’s palace. Days, months, and years passed unheeded as Prince Suthon overcame one obstacle after another. There were forests so thick that no mouse could slip through, and fields of tall grass with blades as sharp as razors. There were lakes of acid, groves of monstrous snakes and battle-fields of ferocious giants. Finally, he reached the domain of Manohra ’s father by hiding himself in the feathers of giant phoenix that nested on the heavenly heights. By a rippling silver lake, Prince Suthon saw sixteen maids coming down to fetch water. One by one, they filled their crystal jars and retraced their steps. From the distance, he overheard their conversation and knew that they were Manohra ’s maids. As the last of the sixteen had filled her crystal jar and rested it on the ground, the prince made a wish, “My love for Manohra is greater than this mountain. Let its weight, weigh down this maid’s crystal jar.” “Oh, why is this thing so heavy today! It must have suddenly grown roots into the ground!” complained the kinnari. Then she saw Prince Suthon . “Please stranger, will you help me lift this?” “Yes, maiden. But first tell me why are you all fetching so much water?” “It is to wash away the smell of human beings from our king’s eldest daughter.” “And why does the smell of human beings?” “She was captured and taken to the human world. When she returned to Karilas, the king wouldn’t allow her to live in the palace not until she has washed for seven years, seven months, and seven days. Today is the last day and tonight she will live in the palace again. There will be a great celebration tonight. And now help me, stranger.” Prince Suthon dropped Manohra’s ring into the crystal water jar and lifted the jar onto the maid’s shoulder. As the water from the last crystal jar was being poured over Manohra , the ring fell and slipped onto her finger. Manohra ’s heart danced with joy. She knew that her husband had come to the silvery mountain. In the palace, the kinnorn king heard of Prince Suthon ’s presence. Though impressed by the heroic persistence, he demanded further trials before he would return his daughter to the human prince. First, Prince Suthon had to lift a huge silver block of an enormous weight, then the magic bow of the celestial Krailas. These tasks he accomplished in the presence of all the kinnorn. Then came the final trial. If he failed, Manohra would be lost to him forever He and to identify Manohra from the kinnorn king’s seven daughters. Manohra trembled inwardly. This was the supreme test of her husband’s love. To the human prince, the seven princesses of the silvery mountain looked exactly alike in their heavenly perfection. Manohra , whichever one she was, gave not a sign to help her bewildered husband – not the slightest move, not a shadow of a smile, not even a gleam of recognition in her eyes. While the throng of celestial witnesses watched, Prince Suthon hesitated. Alas, his eyes were too coarse to see the difference between the seven ethereal sisters. But love has its way of seeing. Slowly, the prince grew to feel—to sense and to inwardly perceive a difference. Wasn’t the radiance of one of the seven a shade more mute, a tinge more mellow than the brightness of sisters? … And was there not an intangible sadness, too? …Yes, that one was different. She had known the joys and sorrows of earthly love. In her, there was a blend of the human and the divine. “This, Sire, is my Manohra!”

The Story of Pra Law Chamnongsri Rutnin (Hanchanlash) Illustration: LittleLark MALE NARRATOR : The northernmost part of Thailand with its misty mountains and softly scented air, its whispering streams and cascading falls, was once a part of an ancient state known as Lanna. This northern state’s age-old culture is one of leisured grace enriched with mysticism and romance. Thai people of the north are proud of their wealth of cultural heritage handed down to them from the days of Lanna. Among this heritage is an old love story that inspired a Thai King of centuries past to compose 'Lilit Pra Law' , a poetic epic treasured as one of the most beautiful gems of Thai literature. FEMALE NARRATOR : I n the kingdom of Suang , a young king ascended the throne after the death of his father. The name of this new king was Pra Law . Pra Law was renowned for his reign of justice and virtue. He was loved by the people of his peaceful, prosperous kingdom. Above all, he was cherished by his wise widowed mother, and adored by his gentle wife. MALE NARRATOR : Pra Law was gifted with extraordinary grace. The fame of his virile grace echoed far and wide. Poets wrote verses in vain attempts to describe its rare perfection; artists tried their futile best to recreate its radiance with their art; the most successful, perhaps, were the minstrels who wove glowing words into golden melodies to convey its supreme perfection to their enraptured listeners. FEMALE NARRATOR : These were ways through which Pra Law ’s beauty become known to all. Its fame sounded throughout his own realm and echoed in all the neighbouring kingdoms. MALE NARRATOR : And the day came when poets and minstrels who had seen Pra Law came to a kingdom known as Song , and sang their songs in praise of him The king of Song was hostile to Mansuang , for King of Song’s father had been slain in battle by the former King of Suang. Deep hatred and vengeful memories existed between the two kingdoms. FEMALE NARRATOR : The kingdom of Song had two daughters whose beauty was as fresh as new-bloomed flowers. The elder was named Puen ; the younger, Paeng . The two maidens were precious to their parents, hearts. They grew up under the stern care of their step-grandmother, widow of the slain king. The old Dowager Queen bore bitter grudge against the ruler of Song . It made no difference to her that the man who had killed her husband was dead and war had long ceased. Desire for revenge had blackened her soul. MALE NARRATOR : Songs of the minstrels praising the unrivalled beauty of the Mansuang King, Pra Law , reached the ear of the Puen and Paeng . Unfamiliar passion was kindled in their virgin hearts. They were consumed by strange yearning for the King of Mansuang. As days passed. their once bright eyes grew dim and the blooms on their young cheeks began to wither. FEMALE NARRATOR : Puen and Paeng had two faithful attendants whose love for Puen and Pang was so great that they could die for them. The royal maidens’ mysterious malady did not escape these two attendants’ sharp eyes. Little by little, they persuaded the princesses to reveal the cause of their sadness. Realizing that their mistresses would slowly pine away with unfulfilled longing, the attendants set themselves the task of luring Pra Law to the realm of Song. MALE NARRATOR : They composed songs describing the incomparable loveliness of the twin princesses and gave them to wandering minstrels to sing in the kingdom of Suang. Their songs told of the exquisiteness of the royal maidens of Song, of whom none but the noblest of kings was worthy. Some of the minstrels succeeded in bringing these songs into the court of Pra Law . FEMALE NARRATOR : In the kingdom of Song, the loyal attendants of Puen and Paeng did not rest their trust in the beguiling romances of songs. They sought magical power of Pu Chao , the mystical spirit of the misty mountains and fog-bound forests. The dauntless women defied dangers of the dark eerie paths that led to the heart of the forest where the great Pu Chao resided. They begged him to save their lovelorn princesses by bring Pra Law to them. MALE NARRATOR : With his inner eye, the all-knowing Pu Chao saw that destinies of Pra Law , Puen and Paeng were entwined by deeds in their past lives. The fate of the three were so tightly wrought that none could keep them from finally coming together. With this foreknowledge of the inevitable, the great spirit granted the attendants’ wishes. He casted spells of love to enchant Pra Law and draw him to the realm of Song. FEMALE NARRATOR : The spells of Pu Chao were wafted on magic winds to Mansuang. The winds wafted them into Pra Law ’s palace, into the air he breathed, onto the foods he tasted. The charm made him restless with longing for the princesses of Song whose beauty he had already heard from lays of minstrels. Passionate desires troubled his heart and left him no peace. His mother recognized the symptoms and summoned all the wise men and magicians of the Suang court to cure the sickness of her beloved son. These men did their concerted best and Pra Law recovered—but only for a while. For, far away in the realm of Song, the love-lorn princesses languished with unfulfilled longing. The two attendants travelled back to the heart of the forest to plead with Pu Chao to shorten the mysteries of their mistresses. MALE NARRATOR : Pu Chao increased the power of enchantment so that neither Pra Law ’s mother nor the wise men of the Mansuang court could oppose its power. The King’s symptoms of love grew worse. He found not a moment of contentment in the once soothing companionship of his loving wife, nor in the tranquility of his palace. He knew that he was under an enchantment that would leave him no peace until he had found the two princesses. He on longer resisted the flame that was consuming his senses. Sadly he took leave of his grieving mother and his heartbroken wife. Torn between the loyalty to Mansuang and the unreasoned passion, Pra Law departed from his domain. FEMALE NARRATOR : The King made a long reluctant journey to the realm of Song. He travelled through brooding forests softly veiled by mountain mists. Constantly in his mind was his noble mother with her immense love for him, and the gentle wife that he had forsaken. He was relentlessly drawn toward the unknown destiny that awaited him in the realm of Song. One day, as dusk fell softly on the forests, Pra Law and his retinue crossed the Kalong River that bordered the Kingdom of Song. The king decided that they should rest by the bank of the slowly drifting river. MALE NARRATOR : Alone in dusk gloom, the King bated in the coolness of the whispering water. Silently he asked the river for signs to foretell his fate in the mysterious kingdom of Song. If his quest should lead to happiness let the river run its natural course; but should the journey end in death, let its current whirl in a circle. Illustration: LittleLark FEMALE NARRATOR : The Kalong ’s crystalline current took on a foreboding tinge of red and swirled in a strange sinister circle. Seeing signs of what was to come, Pra Law accepted the inevitable. For the King of Suang, fated passions burned unabated in his spell bound breast, and his regal pride permitted no cowardly change of mind. FEMALE NARRATOR : Days dragged by in the realm of Song. The two maiden princesses wasted and pined in the secrecy of their hope of fulfillment. They dispatched their faithful attendants to urge Pu Chao to hasten Pra Law to the Kingdom of Song. MALE NARRATOR : In response to the lovelorn princesses plea, Pu Chao summoned all cockerels that inhabited the forest. Out of the throng, he chose the most beautiful of them all. It was a handsome cock whose bright feathers sparkled like coloured diamonds. He gave it magic charm that none could resist. The fowl appeared before Pra Law in its unearthly beauty. The king fell captive of its enchantment. Closely followed by his two companions, the king pursued the cock until they reached the inner gardens of Puen and Paeng . Its purpose accomplished, the fowl disappeared into thin air, leaving its true nature to be realized by Pra Law . FEMALE NARRATOR : It was in the scented garden of Puen and Paeng that the becharmed king finally found the sweet virgins of his dreams. It was here that the royal maidens were united with the man for whom they had been yearning for so long. Secretly they led Pra Law into precincts of the inner palace where they reside. Carefully they eluded the sharp eyes of the Dowager Queen . Pra Law ’s loyal companions wooed and became lovers of the attendants of Puen and Pang . But such happiness could not remain secret for long. The blooms on the princesses; cheeks, the brightness of their eyes, the unusual lengths of time they spent in the privacy of their chamber, the increased amount of food they seemed to partake – all these things were noted by curious ladies of the Dowager Queen ’s court. Talks of suspicious changes in Puen and Pang soon reached their father. MALE NARRATOR : The king of Song made his way to the chamber of his daughters. Unknown to them, he saw the three lovers in their perfect happiness. The magnificence of Pra Law ’s beauty matched by the loveliness of his own daughters softened his troubled heart. The king could not bring himself to the thought of destroying their happiness, for the three were innocent of the bitter past between the two kingdoms. Appearing before his surprised daughters and Pra Law , he granted them forgiveness and promised to unite them in full royal tradition of Song. He then returned to the royal palace to inform the queen of his decision. Joyfully they ordered preparations for royal wedding. But, delight of the three lovers was destined to be short-lived. FEMALE NARRATOR : Words had reached vengeful ears of the harsh old Dowager Queen , grandmother of the princesses. She saw the chance to avenge her husband’s death regardless of consequences. Unable to change the mind of the king, she falsely used his name to command the palace guards to kill the enemy’s son. Pra Law ’s life was to be taken at all costs. Onslaught of palace guards was stemmed for a while by Pra Law ’s two faithful companions who died to defend their beloved master. Right behind them were the two attendants. When the men were cut down by the swords of the guards, the two women took their place fighting to their last breath. They died where their brave lovers had fallen. MALE NARRATOR : Swords in hand, Pra law, Puen and Paeng stood back to back. Bravely they faced those who were ordered to take Pra Law ’s life. Intimidated by royal valour, the guards dared not approach. From a distance, they showered poisoned arrows at the fated three. The King of Song and his wife returned to find Pra Law and his daughters standing, majestic, lifeless and forever transfixed tighter by countless arrows. In the finality of death, they stood undivided. News of the lovers’ death spread grief throughout the two kingdoms. The Suang king and his two princesses of Song were mourned by the people of both realms. The tragedy dissolved hatred between the two royal houses. People of Suang and Song shared their sorrow. Out of the loss, there grew a friendship enriching the two ancient realms of the north. FEMALE NARRATOR : The story of Pra Law is a romantic legend of northern Thailand. It is said to have taken place in the late 11th Century. Scholars believe that the site of Suang is in the present province of Lampang and the kingdom of Song was in Prae.

The Origin Of Gibbons Chamnongsri Rutnin (Hanchanlash) Illustration: LittleLark First Narrator : The origin of gibbons: A new telling of an old tale Second Narrator : As sunset, the tropical jungle awakens and comes alive with a symphony of sounds that gradually swells as the daylight mellows and fades. It is also the time of day when the western mellows and feds. It is also the time of day when the western sky glows with unpredictable combinations of colours. These sights and sounds of the dying day must have stirred the imagination of the Thai people of olden times, and engendered a fanciful link between the redness that tinges the sunset sky with the saddest of all sounds in the natural symphony of the jungle--- the high- pitched cries of the gibbons. The calls of the gibbon are near-human renderings of the sound ‘pua’ which resembles the sound of the Thai word for ‘husband’. This together with the soulful yearning of the gibbon’s call, gave birth to an old tale of love, blood and a moral weakness that accounted for the origin of the gibbons. First Narrator : In ancient times there lived a young prince named Chantakorop . At the age of twelve, he left his father’s palace in search of the kingly arts and wisdom that would make him worthy of his father’s wish—the wish that he should succeed to the throne of the kingdom. Chantakorop set out alone on his quest. He journeyed for months through deep and inhospitable jungles, for it was only in the solitude of a wilderness that supreme masters of kingly knowledge were to be found. Known as ‘rishi’ , they were ascetics who had attained supernatural powers through the ancient practice of meditations. After months of terrible hardship, Chantakorop came upon a rishi seated silently by his meditation fire. The prince begged the ascetic to accept him as a pupil. With his supersensible perception, the rishi realized Chantakorop ’s inborn intellingence and courage, and agreed to teach him the secret arts. In the years that followed Chantakorop mastered all the martial and kingly arts. The day came when the rishi had nothing more to teach him and told him that it was time to return to his kingdom. The old man gave him two weapons that befitted a future king—a bow, and a long dagger that rose from the magic flames of the meditation fire. He told the prince to always keep the dagger on his person, never to allow it to be out of reach. Second Narrator : Contemplating the manly grace of his princely protege, the rishi thought of creating a woman of comparable loveliness – worthy in her beauty to be the young prince’s paramour. He magically created a beautiful crystal jar. In it, he placed the soft bright feather of a gorgeously coloured bird called ‘omra’ . On the inner side of lid, he inscribed the name ‘Mora’ . He breathed life into the feather and turned it into a woman of exquisite beauty magically confined in the tiny crystal jar. This he gave to the prince with a warning not to open the jar before he had reached the kingdom. First Narrator : Things were not destined to be as the rishi had planned. The crystal jar with its tantalizing mystery so kindled Chantakorop ’s curiosity that by the fifteenth day of his journey homeward, he threw his wise old teacher’s warning to the winds; with eager hands and a beating heart, he uncovered the most fascinating of all the rishi ’s gifts. Second Narrator : And in the moment, the newly created feather-born Mora was released from her crystal prison. A rare vision of dazzling feminine beauty, she appeared before Chantakorop …the man for whom she was turned from windblown feather into a breathing woman. He became the first young man she had ever set eyes upon, the first human-being she had ever known besides the old rishi . Mora saw his surprise turning to delight, then his admiration blazing into desire; and when she was wooed with tender words and masculine ardour, her untutored instincts were touched and she was easily charmed. When the rishi had brought her to life, he had given her the knowledge that she was to be a possession of Chantakorop , this handsome young man whose advances fluttered the heart that had just newly begun to beat. It was thus that the feather—born woman become the wife of the brave young prince. She was told by him that she was to be the future queen of a great kingdom, a kingdom that she had never seen. For Mora , the journey was full of unbearable hardship. The gavels and thorns of the forest’s rough ground tortured her tired feet; the tropical sun seared the silky skin of her lovely face; the upward slopes of the hilly terrain cruelly exhausted her slender frame; and when they were crossing a sun-parched plain, the thirst became unbearable for the woman who was intended by the rishi to be carried in a crystal jar. First Narrator : Chantakorop was pained by the sight of his wife’s distress. In his love for her, he did all he could to make the journey easy for Mora . He broke off large shady leaves to shield her from the scorching sun. despite his exhaustion, he carried her up rocky paths and treacherous slopes. As they crossed a sun-parched plain, heat and thirst grew grievously cruel: but he forgot his own suffering when Mora threw herself on the ground crying that she could go no further. Cradled against his breast, the woman wept pitifully and begged him to find water to save her from dying of thirst. The prince took his dagger, slashed his own right thigh and cupped the flowing blood in his hands for her to drink. For Chantakorop , all the suffering and pain were small payments for the pleasures he derived from his wife’s wondrous charms. …………………………………………. In the forest not too far from Chantakorop ’s father’s kingdom, there lived a murderous bandit and his five hundred men. The lawless band was hated and feared by all. They raided and plundered villages, they robbed and slaughtered innocent travellers. The leader’s skill in the art of magic which he used in fighting made him the most terrible of all the robbers in the forest. One day, while out seeking for victims, the bandit came upon the handsome pair of travellers whose beauty and refinements far surpassed those of other wayfarers he had ever seen. His greed was roused by the man’s princely ornaments, and his lust fired by the extraordinary loveliness of the woman. The bandit shouted orders to his men to kill the male stranger. Suddenly Chantakorop found himself surrounded by a horde of bandits intent on taking his life. For the second time, he acted against the warning of the rishi . He gave the dagger to Mora in case she should need to defend herself. He held Mora ’s wrist in his left hand, and with the great bow in his right, he fought the bandit. With the martial arts learned from the rishi , he held his own against the blood-thirsty horde and finally killed all the five hundred. He now faced the bandits’ leader in single combat. The man was mad with gage at the death of his men. In a murderous fury he attacked Chantakorop . The two men fought for hours with equal skill. They reached a deadlock when the bandit seized Chantakorop ’s bow. Chantakorop thought of his dagger in Mora ’s hand. He cried out for it. Second Narrator : Mora , the feather—born woman, had watched the whole scene with the fascinated wonder of the woman who was still in the dawn of her existence. She had watched five hundred men urged on to their deaths by the leader who wanted only to win her for his own. She was strangely thrilled by the sight of this rough man grimly fighting her husband without any fears of death. His crude obstinacy was new to her. In her short life, she had known only Chantakorop – the gentle prince to whom she belonged. At one moment, her feather heart fluttered with the flattery of the rough bandit’s desire for her; yet, at another, with the thought of her husband’s tenderness. To be queen one day in the future had no significance to his newborn woman. Unskilled in choice and judgment, she trembled between the two men, both so strong yet so different. When her husband called for the dagger, she closed her eyes and extended the dagger—letting chance decide towards whom the handle should turn. The moment of uncertainty was one of tragic fatality. The handle was turned towards the bandit. The man grabbed it and stabbed its owner in his right breast. First Narrator : To the dying man, the pain of the woman’s treachery was far more agonising than the death wound. He chided the unfaithful Mora for her ingratitude. With his last breath, he reminded her of the blood he had given to quench her thirst. Hearing the dying man’s words, the bandit realized the worthlessness of the woman over whom so many lives had been lost. And yet, her physical beauty was too extraordinary for him to ignore. So, he enjoyed her for the night meaning to kill her the following morning. But, Mora was so beautiful in her sleep that he could not find it in his heart to murder her. To rid himself of the burden, he abandoned Mora to her lonely fate in the forest. Second Narrator : Waking at dawn, Mora found herself all alone in the midst of the hostile jungle. The noises seemed to grow more and more threatening. With all her heart, she yearned for the warmth of human company. Without her husband’s tender card, she knew not how to fend for her herself. As time dragged painfully by thirst and hunger grew agonising and unbearable. As Mora thought she was on the point of dying, she heard a flapping sound from above. Gazing up the saw a bird of prey coming to perch on a high branch, carrying a large piece of meat in its beak. The wretched Mora begged the bird for the meat. First Narrator : The bird was, in fact, the god Indra who had transformed himself to give Mora her final test. In reply to Mora ’s plea for food., he said that he would let her have the meat in return for her favours. Second Narrator : The feather-born Mora was conscious only of the cruel pangs of hunger. With on hesitation, she told the bird that in return for the meat, she would give herself for his pleasure. First Narrator : The god Indra was so disgusted by the woman’s moral frailty that he thought her unfit to remain a part of the human kind. He punished her by transforming her into an animal of the simian race to be known as t he gibbon . And so the exquisitely beautiful Mora , born of a feather, was doomed by Indra to become a black-faced hairy beast that retained a faint human semblance. The god took away from her all traces of human instincts, but he left her only a vague and lingering memory of her days as a woman – the memory of the blood of her husband. It was to be the memory that would torment her and her descendants for as long as the gibbons shall inhabit this earth. Second Narrator : And that is why the Thai people of old say that the reddened sky at sunset would remind the gibbons of the blood of Mora ’s husband. They say that it is the reason for the animal’s heart-rending cry—the tormented cry of yearning for a husband who will never again be found. Note: The tale of the origin of the gibbons is centuries old and in the course of repeated retelling, there came into being more than one version of some of the details. This narration is based on an old verse version of an unknown authorship the manuscript of which is kept in the National Library of Thailand. ‘THE ORIGIN OF GIBBONS, A New Telling of an Old Tale’ in audio-visual presentation is produced by Cre-arts. The script is by Chamnongsri Rutnin . Slide and sound product on by Suradhaj Bunnag . Narrated by Chamnongsri Rutnin and Suradhaj Bunnag .

The Battles of the Crocodiles Chamnongsri Rutnin (Hanchanlash) Illustration : LittleLark Just north of Central Thailand lies Pichit , province that grew from a riverside town dating back on less than 800 years. Inextricable from the daily lives of its inhabitants is the River Nan that runs through it like a vein. The wide river flows slowly and silently throughout the year except for the months after monsoon when its current swirls and twists with breathless rapidity southward. Though the people of Pichit regard it as an inseparable part of their lives, they are awed by the grandeur and sense of the unknown that pervades this familiar, yet mysterious waterway, and, through the centuries, there grew a legend of the fearsome and seemingly inscrutable reptiles that populated the river – freshwater crocodiles. Let us begin our story on this silent river one cloud veiled dawn long, long ago. An elderly couple was paddling their loaded boat from a northern part of Pichit . Their destination was distant Ayudhya , the great and glittering capital where they were to sell their goods. They had not gone far down the river when a handsome, nobly- dressed man hailed them from the river bank. “Stop for me, old couple, I know you are going to Ayudhya. Take me with you part of the way. I shall paddle that heavy boat for you” The kindly old man and woman took the tall stranger in their boat. They were amazed at his immense strength as he plied the paddle. An aura of mystery and power kept the curious pair from questioning him. The boat reached southern Pichit with incredible speed. The stranger guided it to a deserted bank. Before stepping ashore, he handed the couple a small bag of turmeric powder. “Thank you for your kindness. Take this and go away from here as fast as you can. Don’t look back before you reach that bend in the river. Scatter this on the water around your boat. Go now. Do as I say.” The awed couple obeyed without questioning. When they did look back, they saw the stranger leaping into the river; and, before their unbelieving eyes, turned into a huge crocodile – more gigantic than they could ever imagined. Within seconds the river was filled with crocodiles, all of them far smaller than the transformed stranger. They were inhabitants of this part of the great River Nan , the southern part. Thrashing their tails in rage at the intruder, they created a violent commotion in the water for miles around. None of them ventured near the boat, for the couple had scattered the turmeric powder around it. A battle followed. And, in no time the intruder had either killed or driven off defenders of the southern territory. It is said that the river foamed red with blood and that the tremendous noise and emotion drew Pichit people to the riverbanks to watch the strange sight. In dark cool depth of the river lived, Tao Pan Ta , Lord of Thousand Eyes , sovereign of the southern river. As he lay in his great cavern, this lord of crocodiles was disturbed by turbulence of battle up above. He saw bloodied water and dismembered heads and limbs of his minions. Darting to the surface, he confronted the aggressor who called out to him: “So, is this Tao Pan Ta, Lord of a Thousand Eyes? Is this he who rules over these degenerate beasts? Is this the shameful ford whose tribe kills animals and people with senseless cruelty? You, Lord of a Thousand Eyes, you take evil pleasure in killing. I am Tao Kojorn , Lord Traveller of the northern river. My tribe keeps the precepts of virtue. I am here to put an end to your evil reign.” The infuriated Lord of a Thousand Eyes wasted no words. The two giant crocodiles engaged in a bloody combat. The struggle was said to continue for seven days and seven nights. At the end of the seventh night, the wicked Lord of a Thousand Eyes was mortally wounded. With his last breath, he cried: “You shall die. My brother will revenge my death.” And so it was that the next adversary of victorious Lord Traveller was Phya Pan Wang, Prince of a Thousand Caves , younger brother of defeated Lord of a Thousand Eyes . The truth to tell, he was but an arrogant 'playboy’ of a crocodile. And on match for the mighty Lord Traveller of the north. It was soon clear that the young crocodile of the South was to be loser in the terrible combat. Just then, the guardian spirit of the southern river thought it was time to intervene. He felt that it was his duty to protect the young Prince of a Thousand Caves who was – after all – a living being in domain under his guardianship. Invisibly, he took his place right above the monstrous head of the exhausted young crocodile. The Prince of a Thousand Caves ’ waning strength surged, and he fought with renewed strength and unaccustomed skill. The wise Tao Kojorn , Lord Traveller of the north, noted the surprising change, and rightly guessed its cause. He addressed the invisible guardian spirit: “Oh, Celestial one. Help not this evil beast. Abandon him to the fate he deserves.” Illustration : LittleLark At this, Phya Pan Wang, Prince of a Thousand Caves , -- shouted back: “Come, come Tao Kojorn! With my strength and power, what would I need from a guardian spirit.” Hearing the young crocodile’s arrogant reply, the guardian spirit abandoned him to the mercy of Lord Traveller. Within minutes the combat ended with the victory of the righteous northern crocodile and the death of the Prince of a Thousand Caves . With his powerful jaws, Lord Traveller decapitated his antagonist. He placed the huge head on the river bank as an offering of homage and gratitude to the celestial spirit who permitted him victory. To this day, there stands a spirit house that is believed to mark the legendary spot where the decapitated southern crocodile’s head was placed. His mission accomplished, Lord Traveller, Tao Kojorn made his way back to his own kingdom in the north. But things did not end well for this noble king of crocodiles. He died from wounds sustained from this renowned battle against the crocodiles of the south. Sadly, with his death came the decline of the northern crocodile tribe. These crocodiles grew to neglect the precepts of virtue that they had once so strictly observed under their former lord, Tao Kojorn . They terrorized the river, preying indiscriminately on animals and people. Until the day came when the people of Pichit turned to crocodile hunters in order to rid the river of these beasts. Their number reduced rapidly, until today few crocodiles are found in the fertile province of Pichit where River Nan still maintains its important place in the peaceful lives of the people.

Prince Dhammdhibet (1715 – 1755) ของ เจ้าฟ้าธรรมาธิเบศร English Translation: Chamnongsri Rutnin แปล : คุณหญิงจำนงศรี รัตนิน ( หาญเจนลักษณ์) Golden Hamsa Barge บทเห่ชมเรือ In Praise of the Barges ปางเสด็จประเวศด้าว ชลาไลย ทรงรัตนพิมานไชย กิ่งแก้ว พรั่งพร้อมพวกพลไกร แหนแห่ เรือกระบวนต้นแพร้ว เพริศพริ้งพายทองฯ When the King journeys on water He graces the jewelled throne Amid his magnificent entourage Of golden barges in proud procession พระเสด็จโดยแดนชล ทรงเรือต้นงามเฉิดฉาย กิ่งแก้วแพร้วพรรณราย พายอ่อนหยับจับงามงอน The King journeys by water On the glorious Royal Barge That sparkled like jewels Gleaming paddles dip and rise นาวาแน่นเป็นขนัด ล้วนรูปสัตว์แสนยากร เรือริ้วทิวธงสลอน สาครลั่นครั้นครื้นฟอง Barges shaped like mighty beasts Throng the sovereign fleet Attendant barges with flying banners Stir the turbulent tide Garuda-seize-Naga Barge and Smatchai Barge,Temple of the Emerald Buddha murals เรือครุฑยุดนาคหิ้ว ลิ่วลอยมาพาผันผยอง พลพายกรายพายทอง ร้องโห่เห่โอ้เห่มา Garuda-seize-Naga Barge glides Like Garuda in windswept skies Crewsmen ply their golden blades And intone the royal bargesongs สรมุขมุขสี่ด้าน เพียงพิมานผ่านเมฆา ม่านกรองทองรจนา หลังคาแดงแย่งมังกร Four-sided pavilions as exquisite As if wrought in celestial realm With curtains of woven gold And dragoned roof of scarlet สมรรถไชยไกรกาบแก้ว แสงแวววับจับสาคร เรียบเรียงเคียงคู่จร ดังร่อนฟ้ามาแดนดิน Smatchais be-diamond the water With sparkles of reflected light In double lines they proudly glide As if flying down from the skies Hamsa, Wat Suthat Thepwararam murals สุวรรณหงส์ทรงพู่ห้อย งามชดช้อยลอยหลังสินธุ์ เพียงหงส์ทรงพรหมินทร์ ลินลาศเลือนเตือนตาชม Golden Hamsa holding his tassel Rides acrest the flowing tide Beautiful as Brahma’s bird As he wings his aerial flight เรือไชยไวว่องวิ่ง รวดเร็วจริงยิ่งอย่างลม เสียงเส้าเร้าระดม ห่มท้ายเยิ่นเดินคู่กัน ฯ Armed Barges fast as wind Skim the current in two files Bargesongs resounding high As the crews urge their crafts Kajasi , Temple of the Emerald Buddha murals คชสีห์ทีผาดเผ่น ดูดังเป็นเห็นขบขัน ราชสีห์ทียืนยัน คั่นสองคู่ดูยิ่งยง Kajasi ready to pounce Seems as real as though alive Rajasi rearing high Moves in two alternate pairs เรือม้าหน้ามุ่งน้ำ แล่นเฉื่อยฉ่ำลำระหง เพียงม้าอาชาทรง องค์พระพายผายผันผยอง Horses speed forward Shaped as slender and sleek As the fleet-footed steeds Of the swift Wind God Singha,Temple of the Emerald Buddha murals เรือสิงห์วิ่งเผ่นโผน โจนตามคลื่นฝืนฝาฟอง ดูยิ่งสิงห์ลำพอง เป็นแถวท่องล่องตามกัน Singha Barges prance Atop the dancing waves More arrogant and brave The proud lions of the jungle Naga, Photo by Khunying Chamnongsri Hanchanlash นาคาหน้าดังเป็น ดูเขม้นเห็นขบขัน มังกรถอนพายพัน ทันแข่งหน้าวาสุกรี Naga Barges with faces That seem as Though alive Dragon Barges speed by Overtaking the Serpents เลียงผาง่าเท้าโผน เพียงโจนไปในวารี นาวาหน้าอินทรี ที่ปีกเหมือนเลื่อนลอยโพยม Rearing Mountain Goats Spring forward on the water Barges with face of eagles Glide as though winging the sky ดนตรีมี่อึงอล ก้องกาหลพลแห่โหม โห่ฮึกครึกครื้นโครม โสมนัสชื่นรื่นเริงพล Sonorous music swells Voice and drums resound Bargesongs echo loud Intoned by the jubilant crews กรีธาหมู่นาเวศ จากนคเรศโดยสาชล เหิมหื่นชื่นกระมล ยลมัจฉาสารพันมี ฯ Barges leave the capital In regal magnificence With joy and exultation Over path of myriad fish II บทชมปลาMusing on the Fish Wat Suthat Thepwararam murals พิศพรรณปลาว่ายเคล้า คลึงกัน ถวิลสุดาดวงจันทร์ แจ่มหน้า มัตสยาย่อมพัวพัน พิศวาส ควรฤพรากน้องช้า ชวดเคล้าคลึงชม Watching fish glide in fondling pairs I yearn for the moon-glory of your face T’is the finny tribe’s nature to procreate Should I then be so long bereft of my own love? พิศพรรณปลาว่ายเคล้า คิดถึงเจ้าเศร้าอารมณ์ มัสยายังรู้ชม สมสาใจไม่พามา Watching fish glide in fondling pairs My ravaged heart reaches out in longing For e’en the scaly fish relish in loving The blame is mine for leaving behind my own love นวลจันทร์เป็นนวลจริง เจ้างามพริ้งยิ่งนวลปลา คางเบือนเบือนหน้ามา ไม่งามเท่าเจ้าเบือนชาย Pearly Moongleam though gleaming Is transcended by your surpassing beauty Twisted-Jaw twirls towards me Not as enchantingly as when you, in shyness, avert your face เพียนทองงามดั่งทอง ไม่เหมือนน้องห่มตาดพราย กระแหแหห่างชาย ดั่งสายสวาทคลาดจากสม Golden Tapian gorgeous as gold Vies not with you in your golden raiment Affrighted Startle Fish flee from men Like my own beloved secluded from love แก้มช้ำช้ำใครต้อง อันแก้มน้องช้ำเพราะชม ปลาทุกทุกข์อกตรม เหมือนทุกข์พี่ที่จากนาง Why are Bruised Cheeks’ cheeks so bruised? My dearest’s are bruised with my caresses Dukha Fish’s name sounds like sadness Echoing my distress when deprived of you น้ำเงินคือเงินยวง ขาวพรายช่วงสีสำอาง ไม่เทียบเปรียบโฉมนาง งามเรืองเรื่อเนื้อสองสี Silver Dew is like the purest silver Shimmering wonderous hues of white, But its silver sheen is out-beautied By the warm tinge of your honeyed skin. Wat Suthat Thepwararam murals ปลากรายว่ายเคียงคู่ เคล้ากันอยู่ดูงามดี แต่นางห่างเหินพี่ เห็นปลาเคล้าเศร้าใจจร In twosomes sweep the Dapper Fish A vision of harmony that beguiles the eye But the cruel distance that divides you and I Renders the sight a dire torment หางไก่ว่ายแหวกว่าย หางไก่คล้ายไม่มีหงอน คิดอนงค์องค์เอวอร ผมประบ่าอ่าเอี่ยมไร Cock’s Tail Fish swim hither and thither Like tails of roosters without crests How I miss my love with her pliant waist And long hair that lilt on her shoulders! ปลาสร้อยลอยล่องชล ว่ายเวียนวนปนกันไป เหมือนสร้อยทรงทรามวัย ไม่เห็นเจ้าเศร้าบ่วาย Chain Fish thread the tides Tangling within their own finny throng Like chains entwined on your dear breast Oh, how my heart aches at our severence! เนื้ออ่อนอ่อนแต่ชื่อ เนื้อน้องฤๅอ่อนทั้งกาย ใครต้องข้องจิตชาย ไม่วายนึกตรึกตรึงทรวง Tender Flesh Fish is tender only name But your whole frame is tenderness embodied Any man who touches you is bewitched And haunted by memories of enchantment ปลาเสือเหลือที่ตา เลื่อมแหลมกว่าปลาทั้งปวง เหมือนตาสุดาดวง ดูแหลมล้ำขำเพราคม Tiger Fish with the keenest vision Surpassing other denizens’ of the tide Reminds me of my beloved’s exquisite eyes Their dark, sweet depths filled with beauty แมลงภู่คู่เคียงว่าย เห็นคล้ายคล้ายน่าเชยชม คิดความยามเมื่อสม สนิทเคล้าเจ้าเอวบาง Snake-Head Fish swim side by side A winsome pair of look-alikes Stirring thoughts of the connubial bliss That I used to savor with my slender nymph หวีเกศเพศชื่อปลา คิดสุดาอ่าองค์นาง หวีเกล้าเจ้าสระสาง เส้นเกศสลวยรวยกลิ่นหอม Hair Comb is this fish’s name Bringing again thoughts of my dearest For you were wont to comb your tresses Whence wafted the riches of fragrance ชะแวงแฝงฝังแนบ ชะวาดแอบแปบปนปลอม เหมือนพี่แอบแนบถนอม จอมสวาทนาฏบังอร Close to the banks nestle shy Chawaengs With whom Paebs mingle and Chawaads hide Like when I embraced my treasured bride And lavished on her my fond love พิศดูหมู่มัจฉา ว่ายแหวกมาในสาคร คะนึงนุชสุดสายสมร มาด้วยพี่จะดีใจ Musing over the throng of fish That flicker by under the rippling waves I think only of you who are my love Joy would fill me if you were by my side. III บทชมไม้ MUSING ON THE FLOWERS Wat Suthat Thepwararam murals เรือชายชมมิ่งไม้ มีพรรณ ริมท่าสาครคันธ์ กลิ่นเกลี้ยง เพล็ดดอกออกแกมกัน ชูช่อ หอมหื่นรื่นรสเพี้ยง กลิ่นเนื้อนวลนาง ฯ Coasting the river’s leafy bank Varied flowers vie in fragrance Scented buds blow in profusion As heady as the scent of my dear love เรือชายชมมิ่งไม้ ริมท่าไสวหลากหลายพรรณ เพล็ดดอกออกแกมกัน ส่งกลิ่นเกลี้ยงเพียงกลิ่นสมร Coasting the river’s leafy bank Where flowers grow in lavish abandon Scented buds blow in profusion Recalling the perfume of my sweet love Painted porcelain of flowers and birds, Temple of the Emerald Buddha ชมดวงพวงนางแย้ม บานแสล้มแย้มเกสร คิดความยามบังอร แย้มโอษฐ์ยิ้มพริ้มพรายงาม Seeing the blossoms of Smiling Lady Whose tender petals have begun to unfurl I recollect your petal lips which curls And wreathes into the loveliest of smiles จำปาหนาแน่นเนื่อง คลี่กลีบเหลืองเรืองอร่าม คิดคนึงถึงนงราม ผิวเหลืองกว่าจำปาทอง Thickly blooming Champa unfolds Its gentle petals in yellow luxuriance I recall the gold of your complexion Excelling the magnificence of golden Champa Painted porcelain of flowers and birds, Temple of the Emerald Buddha ประยงค์ทรงพวงห้อย ระย้าย้อยห้อยพวงกรอง เหมือนอุบะนวลออง เจ้าแขวนไว้ให้เรียมชม Prayong trails its blossoms Festooning itself with dangling blooms Like garlands you used to hang in my room Floral ornaments you so lovingly wreathed พุดจีบกลีบแสล้ม พิกุลแกมแซมสุกรม หอมชวยรวยตามลม เหมือนกลิ่นน้องต้องติดใจ Fragile-petaled Pudjeep Peeps out among Pikul and Sukrom Scenting the soft-blowing wind Like your soft unforgettable scent สาวหยุด พุดทชาด บานเกลื่อนกลาดดาษดาไป นึกน้องกรองมาไลย วางให้พี่ข้างที่นอน ฯ Saoyud and Buddhachard Are blooming in lavish opulence Reminding me of the leis you wroughted And laid out for me by my bed Painted porcelain of flowers and birds, Temple of the Emerald Buddha พิกุลบุนนาคบาน กลิ่นหอมหวานซ่านขจร แม้นนุชสุดสายสมร เห็นจะวอนอ้อนพี่ชาย Fragrant Pikul and Bunnag Infuse the air with alluring sweetness Were you here with me, my enchantress, How you’d beseech me to gather them เต็งแต้วแก้วกาหลง บานบุษบงส่งกลิ่นอาย หอมอยู่ไม่รู้หาย คล้ายกลิ่นผ้าเจ้าตราตรู Teng, Taew, Kaew, Kalong Unfurl and breathe forth their perfumes As lastingly redolent as the sweet infusion That bescents my dearest’s dresses มลิวันพันจิกจวง ดอกเป็นพวงร่วงเรณู หอมมาน่าเอ็นดู ชูชื่นจิตต์คิดวนิดา Maliwan entwines Jik and Juang Dusting powdery pollens from its blossoms A wind-wafted redolence so winsome That my thoughts wander back to you ลำดวนหวนหอมตระหลบ กลิ่นอายอบสบนาสา นึกถวิลกลิ่นบุหงา รำไปเจ้าเศร้าถึงนาง Voluptuous Lamduan spreads Its heady scent that arouses memories Of the intricate and perfumed potpuri How sadly I yearn for you รวยรินกลิ่นรำเพย คิดพี่เชยเคยกลิ่นปราง นั่งแนบแอบเอวบาง ห่อนแหห่างว่างเว้นวัน Softly wafts the fragrance of Rampoey Like the cheeks I was wont to kiss I was used to saying close to my sweet Never allowing a distance between us ชมดวงพวงมาลี ศรีเสาวภาคย์หลากหลายพรรณ วนิดามาด้วยกัน จะอ้อนพี่ชี้ชมเชย ฯ Beautiful is the array of flowers Flourishing in countless varieties Had my dear love been here with me Together we would share the joy IV บทชมนก Musing on the Birds Wat Suthat Thepwararam murals รอนรอนสุริยโอ้ อัสดง เรื่อยเรื่อยลับเมรุลง ค่ำแล้ว รอนรอนจิตจำนง. นุชพี่ เพียงแม่ เรื่อยเรื่อยเรียมคอยแก้ว คลับคล้ายเรียมเหลียว ฯ Longing, oh, longing, the sun declines Sighing, oh, sighing, daylight dies in dusk Longing, oh, longing, my hear sighs for you Sighing, oh, sighing, I yearn for your soft glance เรื่อยเรื่อยมารอนรอน ทิพากรจะตกต่ำ สนธยาจะใกล้ค่ำ คำนึงหน้าเจ้าตาตรู Sighs, oh, sighs of longing With the setting of the sun Softly the evening darkens And fills with vision of you เรื่อยเรื่อยมาเรียงเรียง นกบินเฉียงไปทั้งหมู่ ตัวเดียวมาพลัดคู่ เหมือนพี่อยู่ผู้เดียวดาย Sighs, oh, sighs of yearning Flying birds slant the sky One flies alone without a mate As alone and lonely as I เห็นฝูงยูงรำฟ้อน คิดบังอรร่อนรำกราย สร้อยทองย่องเยื้องชาย เหมือนสายสวาทนาดนวยจร Seeing Peacocks dance and turn But I yearn for your nimble grace Demurely steps Golden Necklace Like my shy beauty pacing her dainty path Wat Suthat Thepwararam murals สาลิกามาตามคู่ ชมกันอยู่สู่สมสมร แต่พี่นี้อาวรณ์. ห่อนเห็นเจ้าเศร้าใจครวญ Mynah Birds perch in pairs Feathered lovers in tender passion But I am drowned in drear desolation Not to find you within my sight นางนวลนวลน่ารัก ไม่นวลพักตร์เหมือนทรามสงวน แก้วพี่นี้สุดนวล ดั่งนางฟ้าหน้าใยยอง White Gleaming Maiden’s sheen is tender But your face shines sweeter still My darling’s gentle face shimmers Like an angel’s in the celestial skies นกแก้วแจ้วแจ่มเสียง จับไม้เรียงเคียงคู่สอง เหมือนพี่นี้ประคอง รับขวัญน้องต้องมือเรา ฯ Parakeets screech loud and clear Pairing in pretty rows upon a tree Like when I cradle you close against me In soft embrace, to kiss and soothe ไก่ฟ้ามาตัวเดียว เดินท่องเที่ยวเลี้ยวเหลี่ยมเขา เหมือนพรากจากนงเยาว์ เปล่าใจเปลี่ยวเหลียวหานาง All alone the Angel Bird loiters Meandering among the mountain rocks Like me in my lone wandering Vainly searching for my love แขกเต้าเคล้าคู่เคียง เรียงจับไม้ไซ้ปีกหาง เรียมคะนึงถึงเอวบาง เคยแนบข้างร้างแรมนาน Pairs of amorous Kaek Taows Preen their pretty plumes upon a bough Calling to mind my willow-slim ladylove So long vanished from my side ดุเหว่าเจ่าจับร้อง สนั่นก้องซ้องเสียงหวาน ไพเราะเพราะกังวาน ปานเสียงน้องร้องสั่งชาย Melodious Duwaos continuously carolling Filling the air with a resounding symphony Echoing the enchanting melody Of your sweet accent which men can but obey โนรีสีปานชาด เหมือนช่างฉลาดวามแต้มลาย ไม่เท่าเจ้าโฉมฉาย ห่มตาดพรายกรายกรมา Vibrant Noree as bright as painted A clever craftsman’s crimson creation But vanquished by the splendored vision Of my lithesome love attired in gold Wat Suthat Thepwararam murals สัตวาน่าเอ็นดู คอยหาคู่อยู่เอกา เหมือนพี่ที่จากมา ครวญหาเจ้าเศร้าเสียใจ Winsome Satawa lives singly Patiently seeking a love of its own The same as I who journeys alone Singing out to you in sadness ปักษีมีหลายพรรณ บ้างชมกันขันเพรียกไพร ยิ่งฟังวังเวงใจ ล้วนหลายหลากมากภาษาฯ Million birds of myriad breeds Trill songs that set the forest echoing I feel the grief in my heart deepening Listening to anthems of thousand tongues

Chamnongsri Rutnin (Hanchanlash) The plenitude of flora, fauna and water has always been inherent in the Thai environment. There is a perennial presence of fruit, flowers and foliage, and no noticeable absence of birds or fish in any season. The year-round greenness and warmth of the tropical climate has accustomed the Thai to the richness of the natural environment, which is consequently taken for granted. This luxuriance and predictability breeds an attitude of familiarity with nature which has a multifaceted influence on the Thai writer's approach to nature. In classical literature, nature is abundantly employed, but scarcely for its own sake. The present change from plenty to threatening scarcity has effected certain changes of attitude in writers, but these changes are more evident in subject matter than in approach. Of all the natural elements, water manifests the essence of change and unpredictability. For the Thai, it is an unpredictability that lies within limits of reasonable expectation. There are floods and droughts, monsoons and a dry season, months of high water, and months when the water level is very low; but even then, the low period is a prelude to the coming of the first new rains. The consciousness of Thai writers and their handling of water deserves special interest beyond the scope of this paper. While the natural environment would seem to be permanent, the Buddhist concepts of impermanence and the universal cycle of change are ever-present in the depths of Thai consciousness. This apparent contradiction of fact and philosophy results in a rarity of literary expression of purely aesthetic wonderment and ecstasy concerning nature. The role of the natural environment, especially in Thai classical works, thus differs widely from that of nature in the poetry of the English Romantics. The role of nature in classical Thai literature is one of service to literary craft, creativity and expression. It must be remembered that, unlike modern Thai works, the classics belong to an age untouched by the ideas of Western writers. There is a duality in writers which relates to the duality in Thai behaviour toward the natural environment in general. The Thai express respect and gratitude for nature in their vocabulary: rivers are mae nam (mother water); Mae Phra Phosop (mother spirit of grain) is an expression related to rice. Yet, they take much from nature while giving little in return. This is not due to insensitivity but rather to a familiarity as natural as that of child and mother. Contemporary writers have developed an interesting synthesis of the ingrained and the newly acquired consciousnesses. They are primarily concerned with the plights of man and society; the environment is no longer taken for granted, since it has become clear that the plight of man stems from that of nature. But we have as yet very few writers who, like contemporary Poet Angkarn Kalyanapongse (1986, 22), challenge man with Who would dare trade skies and oceans? Wondrous creation is this world of ours. These corporeal parts shall be laid Betwixt earth and sky in the final hours. We are not owners of clouds or air, Or the heavens or any elements of earth. Man has made neither moon nor sun Nor a single atom in a grain of sand. In making my statement on the role of nature in Thai literature, a partial exception must be made with regard to the four elements--and water in particular. This paper will deal with water strictly in the context of nature in the service of Thai literature'. For this study, references to the text of Lilit Phra Lor, which is an early emotive-imaginative work in Thai literature, will be used as an example of a classical work. The choice is made because Lilit Phra Lor is exclusively Thai in origin- the legend can be traced to ancient Northern Thailand--and is regarded as a gem of classical Thai literature. It is written in poetry. Short stories from Khunthong, You Will Return at Dawn by Ussiri Dhammachote and poems from The Whispering Songs of the Flute by Nowarat Pongpaiboon will be used as examples of notable Thai mainstream works Nature in the Service of the Literary Craft It would be an over generalization to say that familiarity with the natural environment and basic Buddhist consciousness allow the Thai people to value nature more for its usefulness than for its intrinsic value. Like all generalizations, this statement contains an element of risk because there are always significant exceptions. However, it is necessary within this paper's scope. At this point, it must be made clear that this interest in usefulness does not equate with insensitivity to the beauties of nature. Rather, it implies that nature provides unlimited raw material and inspiration for the art of crafting. It is a Thai tradition to improve upon nature with craft. Admiration of craftsmanship overshadows that of nature. Thus, flowers are artistically arranged into imaginative forms; garlands are intricately fashioned for specific purposes; fruits are carved into flowers, animals, other kinds of fruit, or even miniature replicas of themselves. By the same token, names of flowers, animals, and plants serve the craft of writing in such classical poetic conventions as chom dong (admiring the forests) chom swan (admiring the gardens), chom nok (admiring the birds), chom pla (admiring the fish), and long song (bathing by royal characters in ponds, lakes or rivers). Representing very clearly the utilization of nature, these conventions belong in classical works, all of which are written in verse forms. Names of birds, flowers, plants and animals are used for their musical qualities and imagery in the composition of puns and alliterative plays on words, and for associations between sound and image. Poets string unlikely coincidences of nature together, frequently ignoring seasonal realities. This is not a far cry from the craft of exotic garlands and intricate floral arrangements. A short transliterated excerpt from Lilit Phra Lor ((1914] 1971, 25) illustrates these techniques: siang nori sarika satawa duwao kaektao klao klingklaong nok iang ong ku kiang This excerpt contains the names of seven birds (in roman type), describing the sounds and sights of birds as heard and seen by two attendants of the twin princesses on their journey through a forest. The names lend themselves to prosody that demands a set pattern of intonation, rhythm and internal rhymes, plus alliteration. Puns and alliteration often reach the level of verbal acrobatics, though never at the cost of gracefulness. It is Thai nature to handle their crafts with loving care. l ang ling lod mai. lang ling lae luk ling long ching luk mai ling lom lai lom ting ling lot ni na lae luk ling lang lai lod lieo lang ling Lang ling means some monkeys', and is the name of a vine; luk ling means young monkeys', while luk mai is fruit; ling lom is a small animal, while lom means wind (op. cit., 72). (The complexity of this verse is such that I shall omit needlessly lengthy explanation.) The innate pride that man takes in his art often appears in chom dong episodes. In classical works, the beauty of the natural' is not infrequently admired for its man-made order and intricacy; in Lilit Phra Lor (ibid., 24), as the princesses' attendants travel from the forested mountains: They look back and see Tall trees growing as neatly As great spired palaces . The classical poets have left masterly touches of imagery in human characters through the use of comparison with nature. It is the human element that matters. When the two princesses hear of the extraordinary beauty of Phra Lor (ibid., 7), They recline As supine and listless as golden vines. It is worth noting that the vines are not ordinary green vines; befitting The beauty of the princesses, the vines are 'golden' . It is also worth noting that the poet is sensitive to the linear beauty and movement of nature. The classical conventions of stringing together names of plants, flowers and animals for poetic effect are no longer in use, but modem poets still draw on the senses, movement and expectancy of nature to give their verse subtlety and beauty. Contemporary poet Nowarat Pongpaiboon (1983a, 17) creates his own gentle nature* poems from such material, and in return he enriches nature with the beauty of his own compassionate vision. Cold mountain always swaddled in white so tenderly cradled to keep out the cold one hand holds the moon one hand moves a star draw a white piece of flannel to shade the flame of the sun cold sea also mantled in white rocking loving lullabies to keep loneliness away wait just a while the sun hasn't lit his torch bear a bit with the cold soon it will be dawn Nowarat is one of the few who ' give' in return for what they 'take.' His familiarity with nature in this poem is filled with tenderness. Nature in the Service of the Literary Imagination Associations. The association of natural surroundings with inner thoughts is universal. Thai poets of the past created a literary genre known as nirat , long poems in which a character, or the poet himself, laments his lot when he travels away from home or his beloved. The mood is one of nostalgia, and nature plays a prominent role as a reminder of his past, or of people he has left behind. In Lilit Phra Lor (op. cit., 67), a description of Phra Lor 's emotions during his journey to Muang Song is a precursor of the nirat . Here one sees how nature is the essential ingredient in the nostalgic mood: Fragrance of wildflowers Fills the air and my senses With memories of your perfume. Two birds perch in a pair, Feeding beak to beak, As loving as my sweet love. In the fragrance of flowers and the sight of birds, nature provides material for all the senses, and the poet uses it to evoke the sensuality of his beloved. In Lilit Phra Lor, passion that leads to a tragic end differs entirely from the profound love between Phra Lor and his mother, the depth and scope of which remains unrivaled in any other Thai literary masterpiece. To me, it is significant that while flowers and birds remind Phra Lor of the wife he left behind, water of the River Kalong stirs thoughts of the love between mother and son. Indeed, the richest verses depict Phra Lor on the bank of the River Kalong. Similar in concept but different in method is the association seen in When the Wind Brings Rain, a short story from Ussiri Dhammachote 's collection, Khunthong, You Will Return at Dawn (198la.37). The story of a boy dying from a snake bite begins with "Our cart is crossing over a stream. I know from the whispering of the water. It is soft and dreamy like my mother's song when she sings me to sleep. I hear it now . . . drifting, drifting from. ... I wonder where . . . When the wind brings rain the wood's fragrance sweetens the streams where bright flowers dream along with leaves of dark, deep green.. "Are you singing. Mother?" My eyelids are so heavy that I have to force them open to ask. Mother shakes her head and holds me even closer to her. The eyelids close with a will of their own. Tired. ... I have no strength. it is like being in a dream. With my eyes closed, I can see my village shining in the big valley--my village with the meadows and the irrigation canals, with the whirlwheels of the wooden water pumps moving in the wind. Whirlwheels whirling round and round when wind brings rain the scent of wet grass and the fragrance of steaming earth perfume the land our home I know Mother's song. I know it by heart. …" Here we see the whispering of the water recalling memories of the mother's song, heralding the closeness of her presence. We see the close familiarity with nature. The song itself is filled with nature's sensuousness. Like a stream, images of nature lead the song to its destination in the last line.*our home". The human factor always has final importance. Like Nowarat, Ussiri gives to nature by expressing his sensitivity of its values. Stylization. The Thai have a tendency to improve upon nature through imagination as well as through craft. Stylization, which invests the mundane with magic, can be seen in architectural adornment, art motifs, and Thai classical dances and their costumery. In poetry, the depiction of Phra Lor is the stylization of a man to the extent that his beauty transcends visual possibility. Similarly, the cock that Phu Chao sends to lure Phra Lor is nature in stylized form. The description of its extraordinary beauty bright colors and the gem-like shine of its feathers is a poetic masterpiece. The cock is chosen by Phu Chao above all other forest fowl and endowed with magic. On a deeper level it is a symbol of vanity and temptations of the senses. In modern literature, however, one very rarely finds well stylization of nature. Technology and science have dealt traumatic blowst dreams of perfect beauty. Symbols. The use of nature as a source of metaphors is universal, but there is a time-honored and uniquely Thai convention built entirely upon the imaginative use of symbols. Known as bot atsachan or bot sangwar , it is an ingenious way of describing love-making in imaginative, exciting and versatile ways without being explicit. Floods, rain, waves, wind, storms, fire, trees, flowers, bees and other natural elements and, infrequently, man made objects such as boats and kites, are freely used as symbols. Lilit Phra Lor is so rich in such imagery and symbolic expression that the act of crossing the River Kalong has come to symbolize an irreversible decision. The two princesses in the narrative symbolize the irresistible lure of the exotic and the unknown, and the magic cock represents sensual temptation. Lilit Phra Lor (op. cit., 137) offers numerous examples: Bathing in the waters of heaven ears no comparison to bathing In my beloved's lake. In her lake of pleasure The fish frolics and leaps, Touching the opening lotus. The banks of the crystal lake Spread, exquisite and unmarred. With mounds fairer than heaven's hills. The following passage (ibid., 139) creates a climactic mood: Thunderous skies shook to the heavens. Earth shuddered as though ready to burst. Tumultuous waves churned and foamed. Trees swayed and trembled in tremendous storm. Here, participation of the elements is all important in endowing the act with grandeur.The element of water is almost always present in bot atsachan. Although frequently employed in classical works, this literary convention is not found in modern literature. Throughout The Whispering Songs of the Flute, Nowarat Pongpaiboon (1983b, 40) draws symbolic imagery from nature to convey his philosophy and thoughts. Here, water symbolizes the perceptual mind: Don't ripple the water I want to see its infinite clarity seeing deep to the moving depths as deep as the depths of the mind as deep as the end of the skies or deeper than my eyes on the gleam of sun-sparkling bamboo leaves the whispering flute spins soft sweet songs Little insect, do not fidget don't ripple the water breeze, don't ruffle the surface let me drink the depth of thought who is disturbing the water? my mind, do you quiver? clarity disperses how life ripples like water Emotions, Life and Destiny. Emotions are expressed with controlled intensity through ingenious touches that relate to the natural environment, especially water. When Phra Lor (op. cit, 43) leaves his kingdom on his doomed quest, his mother weeps until Tears stream like running brooks, Flow upon flow, Until her heart is parched and dry. And, as for the populace (ibid., 60), The kingdom grows as cold as water At the flows of tears. To the Thai, water conveys a cool sense of relief from heat and exhaustion. The fact that its connotations are usually positive probably intensifies its few negative connotations in Lilit Phra Lor and the stories of Ussiri. In Ussiri' s Morning in Early Monsoon (1981b, 75), a young woman holding her baby waits for the return of her bandit husband. A policeman who has come to arrest him sits beside her with a rifle resting across his knees. " It had been raining ceaselessly … persistently, and as the rain-swollen water brimmed over the edge of the pond in front of the hut, Buarum thought of the return of her mate with a trembling heart. Her heart ... she could feel it trembling. It trembled like the ripples of light on the surface of water that was ruffled by the falling rain." And then again, "She sank back into her own thoughts while she watched the fragile, windblown threads of rain swaying out there in the lonely space between the sky and the fields." In Thai literature, as in the literatures of other countries, nature is often used to describe and symbolize human life and destiny. In Lilit Phra Lor (op. cit., 81-82) the River Kalong flows fast and strong, rather like the hero's voluntary moves toward his own end. It divides his homeland from the hostile kingdom of the twin princesses. In effect, it foretells fate, knowledge of which is in his own heart. May the fast flowing water Of this swift river named Kalong Circle, should my life be lost To flow free, should I be free to return. At his words the water swirls, Tinged with the redness of blood. His heart grows heavy with sorrow. As though weighted with a hundred trees. In Ussiris It Is Time to Leave This Khlong (1981c, 25), the dirty urban canal somehow takes the heroine into its life. Here we see once again that it is the human element that gives the water its "life." At this point, one sees the contemporary writer's consciousness of pollution of the natural environment. It is a good sign that he neither condemns nor preaches: rather, he incorporates pollution sensitively into the emotions of his Character. "The night air reeked of the smell of dirty water and spread an invisible blanket of unhealthy dankness over all things. City lights seeped dimly under the bridge and made the black water gleam in the darkness.. . The rhythmic dipping of a paddle in the water had a desolate sound. The boat that was passing downstream was paddled by a woman, with a man sitting in the front end. Short poles held up a low roof in the middle of the boat. There were curtains hanging from the roof. "Still awake, auntie?" the young woman called from the boat. "Yes," she said and watched the boat pass from the area of the dim light into the darkness of one of the deep bays that the current had eaten into the banks of the khlong. . . Sound of paddle strokes was part of the essence of this khlong life. People came from other places and met here despite its filth and pollution. Lives that floated on it and existed along it seemed polluted, useless and incomplete…. The cigarette butt that her son threw into the water sizzled and went out. She watched it drift slowly out of sight, like the debris and refuse that the dark water carried past her hut every day and night. Discarded, unwanted things floated by on the khlong whose nightly sound of paddles rhythmically dipping in the water. . . ." Ussiri also feels the inherence of destiny in nature. The following passage is from Nightfall on the Waterway (1981d, 97). "The child's body was horribly bloated and, in the pallor of the fugitive moonbeam, had taken on a nauseating tinge of green. It was hard to imagine what this little girl had been like in the freshness of life, what bright innocence must have been hers before she became this festering corpse in the course of the sad, inevitable process that would finally make her one with the ever-moving current of this khlong." After a man takes a gold chain from the putrefying body of the child. " The corpse, freed by a push from the paddle, was drifting slowly downstream, further and further away, in silent finality." Though water serves the writer in conveying his sense of destiny and it finality, it also illustrates a point that I have already made in this paper: that the role of water and (other natural elements) in Thai literature is deeper and broader than that of mere service to literature. Nevertheless, this 'service' represents the limits of the scope of this paper. Mysticism . Thai literature is rich with mysticism, and so is Lilit Phra Lor. Nature and the elements are employed with masterly touches of surrealism to evoke the dark and the mystical. With the movement of whole forests of tall trees, wind and air, Phu Chao sends waves upon magical waves to charm Phra Lor . Phu Chao 's forest spirits invade the spiritual territories of Phra Lor 's kingdom to subdue resistance to his magical spell over Phra Lor (op. cit., 42), as follows: Forest spirits create fire Smoke chokes the skies Mighty spells and magic Subdue spirits of the city They cry news to the wind Who stirs storms in the skies And blows with terrible speed To the kingdom's guardian spirits The sky turns deadly yellow Air grows murky with smoke Lightening splits thunderous skies The city's heart writhes in panic As though its breast would burst. The foreboding of the River Kalong is an unforgettable passage of mysticism. When the two attendants of the princesses enter the domain of Phu Chao (ibid., 20-21), the bright smiling forest scape turns fearfully ominous--a masterpiece of the poetic surreal. They see streams swamps Bogs and pools Host of crocodiles by the banks Their heads half submerged in water Water elephants pierce men's reflections with their tusks Mermaids drag men under the water Their victims roll their eyes Wide and round with fear Strangled by the mermaids' hair. Modern Thai literature inherits the ancient legacy of the mystic in nature. But no examples of the mystic per se are to be found in the contemporary poems and short stories cited in this paper. Rather, these selections reflect Nowarat 's philosophical impressions and Ussiri 's concern for the plight of the down trodden. This article was published in CULTURE AND ENVIRONMENT IN THAILAND by The Siam Society under royal patronage,1989. Conclusion Thai literature, especially in its classical forms, shows both familiarity and objectivity in the Thai attitude toward nature. This attitude has its origins in the plenitude of nature and the Buddhist concepts of impermanence and cyclic change. Thai writers use nature as both means and material for their craft, and for purposes specific to their works. In the classical literary conventions of admiring nature (i.e., wilderness, gardens, and birds), in symbolic descriptions of love-making, and in the poetic genre of nirat , nature is abundantly used to lend musicality to sound, design to imagery, and associations to symbols. The natural elements, especially water, frequently portray powerful emotions and mysticism, but nature is rarely glorified for its own sake. Thus man and his emotions and destiny are the prime subject matter, and nature is its medium. In the present change from nature's plenty to scarcity, and in the resulting hardship, the ingrained familiarity with nature has undergone a new synthesis. A product of this synthesis is an awakening to the worth of nature, but not so much to nature's intrinsic aesthetic and spiritual values as to nature's importance to the survival of man and society. Modern writers still use the natural environment for their literary purposes and craft, but they 'give back' what they take from nature. Writers like Ussiri Dhammachote touch our conscience with the hardship of those whose lives are deprived by scarcity and pollution. Poet Nowarat Pongpaiboon conveys to us the glory and subtleties of nature through his use of nature as a vernacular for his thoughts. Poet-artist Ankarn Kalayanapongse fills us with wonder at the greatness of nature. Judging from the works of these writers, there are optimistic prospects for the role of modern literature in the modern perception of nature. References Angkar Kalyanapongse. 1986. Panida Thanakawi (Poet's Pledge) . Bangkok: Carat Books House. Anonymous. (1914) 1971. Lilit Phra Lor . Bangkok:Department of Fine Arts. Nowarat Pongpaiboon. 1983a. Phu nao (Cold Mountain) . In Nungsu pleng khlui phiu (The whispering songs of the flute.) Bangkok: Pla Taphian Press. ———-1983b. Ya tham nam wai (Don't ripple the water) .Bangkok: Pla Thaphien Press. Ussiri Dhammachote. 1981a. Mua lom fon phan ma (When the wind brings down rain) . Bangkok: Chao Phraya Press. ———1981b. Chao wan ton rudu fon (Morning in early monsoon). Bangkok: Chao Phraya Press ———1981c . Thung khra cha ni klai pai chak lam khlong sai nan (It is time to leave this khlong). Bangkok: ChaoPhraya Press. ———1981d. Bon thong nam mua yam kham (Nightfall on the waterway) . Bangkok: Chao Phraya Press. From: The siam society under royal patronage. Culture and Environment in Thailand . The Siam Society,1989.

คุณหญิงจำนงศรี หาญเจนลักษณ์ คุยกันเมื่อวันก่อนถึง Hero ของ จางอี้โหมว, บุรณี รัชไชยบุญ หรือ หนูเล็ก แห่งสยามสติวโอโอดครวญเสียงใสตาเป็นประกายว่า “ดูแล้วรู้สึกว่าตัวเองไร้ค่า !” ส่วนข้าพเจ้ากลับว่า จางอี้โหมว ทำให้ข้าพเจ้ารู้สึกว่าตัวเองมีค่ามาก คงจะเป็นเพราะบุรณีดูหนังเรื่องนี้จากสายตาคนสร้างงานทั้งด้านละครเวที ภาพยนตร์และโฆษณา แต่ข้าพเจ้าดูในฐานเป็นคนธรรมดาคนหนึ่งที่ชอบดูหนัง พูดง่ายๆ ว่าข้าพเจ้าเป็น ‘ตลาด’ ไม่ใช่นักดาบใน ยุทธจักรอย่างบุรณี เข้าใจได้ว่าในขณะที่บุรณียอมรับว่าฝีไม้ลายมือตัวเองรู้สึกด้อยไปถนัดใจ เมื่อเทียบชั้นกับจางอี้โหมว คนดูหนังที่ไร้เชิงกระบี่อย่างข้าพเจ้าก็รู้สึกภาคภูมิว่าจางอี้โหมวเคารพในสติปัญญาของ “ตลาด” เขาสร้าง Hero อย่างเชื่อมั่นในศักยภาพคนดูที่จะรับสาระที่ละเอียดลึกโดยไม่ต้องตอกเน้นชี้ชัด แจกแจง และเพราะเขาให้พื้นที่กับจินตนาการของคนดูอย่างเต็มที่ หนังก็เลยงามล้ำทั้งในเชิงสุนทรียะ และเชิงปรัชญา ดูได้หลายรอบ เพราะมีสาระมากมายแฝงเร้นไว้ให้ค้นหา Hero จึงเป็นหนังที่สร้างกระแสให้เกิดบทวิเคราะห์ บทวิจารณ์ออกมากันหลายแง่หลายมุม ถึงแม้ความงามของฉาก สี ลีลาและรายละเอียดต่างๆ จะจับใจ แต่พอหลายอาทิตย์ผ่านไป ความรู้สึกข้าพเจ้าสำหรับส่วนนั้นก็เริ่มเลือน แต่กลับมาชัดตรงฉากที่ กษัตริย์ฉิน หันไปมองอักษรลักษณ์ 'ใต้หล้า' หรือ 'เทียนเซี่ย' ที่แขวนอยู่หลังบัลลังก์ แล้ววิเคราะห์ว่าอักษรนั้นประกอบด้วยอักษรจีนสามคำ ตามลำดับว่า “กระบี่ในมือ...กระบี่ในใจ... ไม่มีกระบี่ทั้งในมือและในใจ”... กระบี่ในมือ คือการพิชิตด้วยอำนาจเด็ดขาดและความรุนแรง เรียกว่าสู้กันระดับกายภาพ กระบี่ในใจ หมายถึงการพิชิตด้วยสติปัญญา ซึ่งใน Hero นั้น ไร้นาม เล่าถึง 'สู้กันในความคิด' คู่ต่อสู้ต่างถือกระบี่ยืนนิ่งหลับตา ในขณะที่ลดเลี้ยวแล่นโลดประดาบกันในความคิด กระบวนการต่อสู้แบบดาบในใจ นี้แหละ ที่สหรัฐอเมริกากับโซเวียตรัสเซียก็นำมาใช้ประหัตประหารกันในสงครามเย็น ระหว่างค่ายทุนนิยมกับค่ายคอมมิวนิสต์ช่วงกลางคริสต์ศตวรรษที่ 20 ที่เพิ่งผ่านพ้นไปไม่นานนัก ระดับขั้นที่สามคือ ไม่มีกระบี่ในมือและในใจ ซึ่งเป็นการปล่อยวางความรุนแรงทั้งปวงด้วยการบรรลุถึงสภาพที่ไร้ความขัดแย้ง เพราะไม่ยึดมั่นในความสำคัญของตัวตน 'ใต้หล้า' เป็นอุดมการณ์ที่จะรวมสังคมจีนที่แตกแยกแก่งแย่งความเป็นใหญ่ให้เป็นเอกภาพ เพื่อความสันติสุข เป็นจุดมุ่งหมายของทั้งฝ่ายกษัตริย์ฉินซึ่งเป็นกษัตริย์ของรัฐที่แข็งแรงที่สุด และฝ่ายนักดาบชาวจ้าวที่มีแผนฆ่ากษัตริย์ฉิน อุดมการณ์นี้จะไปให้ถึงได้ด้วยกระบวนกระบี่ใดหนึ่งในทั้งสามนี้ แล้วแต่ใครจะเลือกใช้กระบวนไหน ข้าพเจ้าคิดว่าคำตอบว่าใครคือ วีรชน น่าจะค้นคิดตรงนี้ คงเป็นคำตอบที่ไม่ตายตัว เพราะขึ้นกับมุมมองและปรัชญาของคนมอง ปัญหาจึงไม่ได้อยู่ที่ใครคือวีรชน แต่อยู่ที่ “...วีรชน เยี่ยงใดลวง เยี่ยงใดจริง เท่านั้น ?” ดังที่ อาจารย์ วรศักดิ์ มหันทธโนบล ได้เคยทิ้งท้ายไว้ในมติชนสุดสัปดาห์ ข้าพเจ้าเองก็ขอทิ้งคำถามเพิ่มเติมไว้ว่า “เพลงกระบี่กระบวนไหนเล่า ที่จะนำไปสู่เอกภาพอันเป็นสันติสุขที่แท้จริง ?” กลับมามอง Hero เห็นกระบวนกระบี่ของจางอี้โหมวเปรียบเป็นกระบี่ในใจ เมื่อเทียบกับหนังกระแสหลัก (mainstream) ของทุกวันนี้ ซึ่งส่วนใหญ่ใช้กระบี่ในมือสร้างงานรูปธรรมอันชัดแจ้ง มากกว่าสัจธรรมที่ต้องค้นหา ปัจจุบันคนดูหนัง ดูโทรทัศน์ โดยเฉพาะหนังฝรั่งผ่านดาวเทียมจึงชินกับการเสพรสจัดๆ ไม่ว่าเป็น eroticism ที่จะแจ้ง หรือ action ที่รุนแรง ทำนองไส้ทะลัก หัวแหว่ง เลือดกระฉูด คนทำหนังดูจะพากันทุ่มเทฝีมือในการปรุงรสให้กระแทกอารมณ์คนดู ที่นับวันจะกระแทกให้ถึงใจได้ยากขึ้นๆ จนเกือบจะกลายเป็นมาตราวัดความเก่งในการกำกับกับถ่ายทำ นัยว่าเป็นศิลปะที่จำเป็นในการสื่ออารมณ์ ฝีมือจางอี้โหมว ใน Hero ทำให้รู้สึกว่านี่ซิ เป็นศิลปะที่เหนือชั้น ดูฉากที่ลูกเกาทัณฑ์นับแสนพุ่งเข้าหานักดาบที่ยืนนิ่งรอรับ ข้างหลังเขาเป็นบานประตูใหญ่ยักษ์ตระหง่านบ่งบอกถึงอำนาจที่ล้มล้างได้ยากแวบหนึ่งข้าพเจ้าเสียววาบว่าจะต้องเห็นศพที่เหมือนหมอนปักเข็มโชกเลือด ที่ไหนได้ ภาพที่เห็นคือ เกาทัณฑ์ปักเต็มประตูหนาแน่นราวขนเม่น ว่างเว้นเฉพาะตรงที่เขายืนหยัดเมื่อครู่ ช่องเว้นว่างเป็นรอยร่างคนนั้น บอกถึงความตายที่โดดเดี่ยวและเด็ดเดี่ยวของคนกล้าได้ชะงัดว่าภาพสยองใดๆ ทั้งสิ้น ฉากสังวาสก็วิเศษ บอกเล่าถึงการสังวาสที่รุนแรงปราศจากรักได้อย่างงามเหลือ ภาพใต้ผ้าไหมสีแดงชาดผืนใหญ่ที่เหวี่ยงวนจนจอฉาดฉานไปด้วยกามกิเลส นี่แหละที่ว่าคนทำหนังให้เกียรติคนดูด้วยการให้พื้นที่กับจินตนาการ สำหรับความรักที่ลึกราวห้วงสมุทรนั้น จางอี้โหมวกลั่นมาไว้ในน้ำหยดเดียว คำว่าโรแมนติกตื้นเกินไปสำหรับ ใบหน้า แววตาและนิ้วมือของกระบี่หัก เมื่อเขาทิ้งดาบหันหลังให้คมดาบคู่ต่อสู้ เพื่อแล่นรี่มาค่อยๆ ลูบเช็ดน้ำหยดเดียวที่ปลิวมาตกลงบนแก้มศพหญิงคนรัก แววตาที่มองหน้าศพนั้นมีตำนานรักเรียงร้อยถ้อยอยู่นับล้านคำ ความตายของกระบี่หัก ที่ปล่อยดาบให้หล่นจากมือ จนหิมะเหินแทงทะลุอก ก็บอกมากมายหลายอย่าง ไม่ว่าจะเป็นความรักหรือปรัชญาการปล่อยวางแม้กระทั่งชีวิตเพื่อสันติภาพ และเพื่อให้คนที่ตนรักเข้าถึงสัจธรรมของมือและใจที่ไร้ดาบ ฉากแกนกลางในการดำเนินเรื่องซึ่งเป็นการเผชิญหน้าระหว่าง ไร้นาม กับ กษัตริย์ฉิน ในท้องพระโรงนั้น เป็นศึกทางสติปัญญาความคิดทั้งสิ้น ไม่ว่าจะเป็นเรื่องเล่าของ ไร้นาม เรื่องวิเคราะห์ของ กษัตริย์ฉิน หรือแม้กระทั่งเรื่องเล่าตามความเป็นจริงของไร้นาม ล้วนแต่เป็นกระบี่ในใจ ของตัวละครทั้งคู่ ทั้งสองฝ่ายต่างนั่งกับที่ แต่ต่อสู้กันด้วยความคิดและไหวพริบ จนถึงสุดท้าย ที่ทั้งคู่ต้องทิ้งกระบี่ทั้งในใจ จับทางเลือกอีกสองกระบวน ไร้นามเลือกกระบวนที่ ไม่มีกระบี่ทั้งในมือและในใจ ส่วน กษัตริย์ฉิน เลือกกระบวนกระบี่ในมือ ใครอยู่ใครตายคงพอเดาได้ 'ใต้หล้า' หรือการรวมจีนให้เป็นหนึ่งเดียว ดูจะเป็นอุดมการณ์ของจีนแผ่นดินใหญ่มาโดยตลอด จางอี้โหมวศิลปินชาวจีนแผ่นดินใหญ่ทำให้ข้าพเจ้าคิดเล่นๆ กว้างไกลออกไปว่า หรือศิลปะจะเป็น กระบวนกระบี่ในใจ ที่จะถางทางสู่เอกภาพทางปรัชญาที่ว่าด้วยการปล่อยวางตัว หรืออีกนัยหนึ่งคือสู่วิถีที่โลกทั้งโลกจะอยู่ร่วมกันโดยไม่มีกระบี่ทั้งในมือและในใจ ? ความคิดเล่นๆ นี้คงเป็นไปได้ยาก พอๆ กับการกลั่นมหาสมุทรให้เป็นหยดน้ำหยดเดียว จาก: คอลัมน์ บทความพิเศษ ใน มติชนสุดสัปดาห์ ฉบับวันที่ 7-13 มีนาคม 2546 ฉบับที่ 1177 ปีที่ 23