Last Wednesday I brought this poem by Xi Xi to the class I'm teaching, because I've always liked it a lot. The next two days I moved house, and the poem took on another layer of meaning for me.

蝴蝶輕 (西西著）

漸漸地發現
自己變成一頭袋鼠了
袋鼠的口袋在懷裡
我的口袋在心中

無論走到甚麼地方
無論睡裡醒裡袋裡總
纍纍地滿載許多東西

想把袋裡的東西倒出來
──能倒出來嗎?
又如何捨棄又如何忘記

漸漸地明白
蝴蝶為甚麼能夠飛了
因為因為
蝴蝶輕
因為因為
蝴蝶沒有心


Butterflies are Light (by Xi Xi)

Bit by bit I've realized
That I
Have turned into a kangaroo

The kangaroo's pouch
Is in its belly
My pouch
Is in my heart

No matter where I go
No matter if I'm awake or asleep
That pouch
Is always stuffed full
Packed with a jumble of many things

If I wanted to pour out
The things in the pouch
--could I pour them all out?
How could I cast them aside
How could I forget them

Bit by bit I've come to understand
Why butterflies can fly
Because because
A butterfly is light
Because because
A butterfly has no heart


One of my students remarked that the poem wasn't fair to the butterfly and that it didn't have to be either/or. Why do you have to be either weighted down with memories and experiences or heartless and light as air? I think that Xi Xi was writing about more extreme people, those who don't allow themselves attachments, who wear the world lightly because they refuse feeling or are incapable of it.

Still, as someone who just moved over a hundred boxes of books and papers from one house to another but who also loves to be airborne, I agree that it's not so simple. One can have heart and fly. Heart is what gives us ballast and allows us to stay steady and chart a chosen course, neither sinking to earth nor drifting rootless, at the mercy of the winds.