How beautifully written her prose.
The love letter as below was written by a Chinese woman named Wen Fang, who holds a master degree in English literature. (Her marriage with a Nobel laurel winner was controversial in China. Er, that story is something about robbing a cradle.) I am curious about the level of her proficiency in English. I think it's a prism which can reflect the quality of higher education of English in China more or less. Can you distinguish that she is not a native speaker of English from her writing? What do you think about her writing? Thanks!
Cold here, icy cold there. You belong to neither, leaves have withered. Your face is pale and blue, a tearful smile. Something in your eyes, whispers words of last goodbye. My heart sinks down, tears surge out.
Hot summer. Cheerful Cocktail. You took my hand. We fled into another world of band. You sat by my side, long hair tied behind, cool and killing. Smile floating on the lemonade, soft and smooth. How I was amazed. Your face looked like the cover of the magazine. My head spin. You led my hand, danced along the crazy theme.
Light vied with wine, elegance mixed with fragrance, laughing covered by greetings, the crowed was busy at handshaking. You stood there, eyes on me. I trembled at the sparkles, brighter than the light. A masterpiece from God, I felt dizzy. We were not near, yet we were together.
Days ended. You said, you would wait for me at the Alps side. We would ski against snowflakes dancing in the sky. I gave no answer but a goodbye to accompany your flight. Gone was the plane, I suddenly tasted my pain. I knew I had been silly and stupid, you were in my heart, I shouldnt have hidden in the dark. I tried to forget your disappointment. I made believe sometime someday, I would tell you, I feel all the same.
My thought struggled at confessing, somehow hesitation ended in flinching. I continued my role of a fool, clinched to my maiden pride, yet secretly indulged in your promise of the white land snow measuring down to us, in your arms I am lifted up. The chiming of Christmas bell!
The bell died in the patter of rain, from hell came the laughing of Satan at my brain. Tearful smile, swallowed by the darkness. How could I trace your hair to wipe your tears? My hands reached out, catching nothing but a raindrop, on a leaf that had withered.
Snowflakes have melted into water, we are no more together.
Last edited by thedaffodils; 19-Apr-2009 at 20:10. Reason: solecism
How beautifully written her prose.
I agree that it is beautifully written. Some might argue about the grammar, but a love letter, like a poem, is meant to portray emotion, not proper grammar.
As a native speaker of English, I bow to her command of the language. I know that I cannot write like that!
It's lovely. But "the chiming of Christmas bell" would be rendered as a plural, bells, by a native speaker. There are other oddities as well. But it's a good piece of writing. Normally, she'd have someone read it over and correct it before it came out, so there is no way of knowing if that's her error or an error introduced here on the site.
hi there, i am aisha . Your english is really impressive perhaps it is outstanding
Thank you very much for your comment. To be frank, the writing doesn't touch me too much because it looks to me too romantic but a bit less sincere. Probably I am a boring person, who doesn't enjoy this style too much.
Thank you for your comment. She majored in English, and holds a master degree of English literature. In other words, her English level would be top among Chinese who speak English on an average. I think just a few Chinese she knew have the ability to touch up this writing of her. If some native speaker has corrected it, why I still found some grammar solecisms in it. Therefore, I assume it was completely written by herself.
That writing was not written by myself. But thank you for your comment.
Last edited by thedaffodils; 22-Apr-2009 at 23:17.
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I suddenly tasted my pain. I knew I had been silly and stupid, you were in my heart, I shouldnt have hidden in the dark. I tried to forget your disappointment. I made believe sometime someday, I would tell you, I feel all the same.
If I can be a dissenting voice here, it doesn't do much for me. As writing. Sentences. Devoid of verbs. To make the reader. Think.
The English is excellent, but there are a few bits that are strange like 'your promise of the white land snow measuring down to us', though this read unseen this might seem simply to be the style rather than something obviously non-native.