滿庭芳
夏日溧水無想山作
周邦彥
風(fēng)老鶯雛，
雨肥梅子，
午陰嘉樹清圓。
地卑山近，
衣潤費(fèi)爐煙。
人靜烏鳶自樂，
小橋外、
新綠濺濺。
憑欄久，
黃蘆苦竹，
疑泛九江船。
年年，
如社燕，
飄流瀚海，
來寄修椽。
且莫思身外，
長近尊前。
憔悴江南倦客，
不堪聽急管繁弦。
歌筵畔，
先安簟枕，
容我醉時眠。
Courtyard Full of Fragrance
Zhou Bangyan
In balmy breeze
Fledged orioles in flight,
In gentle rain
The mumes are filling out.
At noon the rounded shadows of the stately trees
Are pools of cool delight.
Low is the plain
With hills about.
The clothes damp need incense smoke to make them dry.
It’s so reposeful that e’er crows won’t fly.
Beyond the little bridge green water sings its song.
Leaning on rails for long,
I seem to see that exiled poet who
Was fenced in by a tangle of weeds and bamboo.
From year to year
I’m like a swallow swift that leaves
For northern sea and wanders there and here,
But glad to come back under the same old eaves.
Well, why waste thoughts on downs and ups?
Just drink the ever-brimming cups!
For weary southerner with thoughts homebound,
E’en merry flutes and strings would hollow sound.
Beside the banquet table spread
Put mat and pillow on a bed
Where, drunken, I may rest my head!
(許淵沖 譯)
To the Tune of Man-t’ing fang
Written on a Summer Day on No-thought Hill in Li Shui
Chou Pang-yen
Wind has matured the infant oriole
Rain fattened plums
At noon the shade of trees is true and round
On low ground near the hills
Damp clothes need incense smoke to dry
Quietly, I watch birds frolic,
Beyond the little bridge, new green splashes
I linger against the rail,
Yellow reeds, Bitter Bamboo–
Would I could drift in the boat od Chiu-chiang
Year in year out, like the punctual swallow
I go back and forth over the vast desert
Lodging on long rafters–
Why look beyond the moment?
I’ll keep close to the wine.
Wretched, spent, a stranger from the south,
I hate the sound of the fast pipes and jumbled strings,
Wide of both feast and song
I’ll spread my mat and pillow
Then I can sleep, when drunk
(Julie Landau 譯)
Man-t’ing Fang
– Written on a summer’s day at Thought-free Hill in Li-shui
Chou Pang-yen
The wind has aged young orioles,
The rain fattened baby plums,
The noontide shades of fine trees are clear and round.
On these lowlands near the hill,
Clothes are damp and need to be dried with incense smoke.
People being quiet, the kites enjoy themselves.
Beyond the little bridge, the fresh green water splutters on.
Leaning on the rails for a long time,
Amid yellow reeds and bitter bamboos,
I wish to sail down to Chiu-chiang.
Year after year,
Like the seasonal swallow
Drifting over the great desert
And coming to lodge on the long rafters!
Let me not think of what lies beyond me,
But always stay close to the wine jar!
A haggard, weary traveler south of the River
Cannot bear to hear fast pipes and numerous strings!
By the place of singing and feasting,
First lay down the mattress and pillow,
That I may seep after getting drunk!
(James J. Y. Liu 譯)
