Language

Since last week, my boyfriend and I have started helping for translations of the website of the magazine my brother ownes. I translate from Chinese to English and he edits my translation to good English. When I read his final work, I know more closely that there's a long way to go in my English writing and understand better that why he gave me his honest opinion as "bad English, bad writing" regarding a few blogs I wrote in English in the past. I appreciated his honesty, however these few words were hurt at the time he said to me. I gave up trying ever since and now I'm even more reluctant. It's one thing I feel sorry for myself that have been studying English for twenty years, I still can't write well.

English is a beautiful accurate language, which you don't realize until you read more. When you read something good, it makes you think, gives you strength and show you directions when you're lost, like a navigation in boundless ocean or a light in dark. In the meantime, a well written article amazes you with the words the writers use and the way they elaborate through which you see things clear no matter how complicated they were and writers' thoughts behind. Just as I have been touched many times by the power of Chinese in the past, reading English sometimes enlightens my thoughts and pleases my mind, like meeting a good friend when you don't expect.

Language is always beautiful, I think, regardless of its origin.

First posted at 26 September 2005