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                下周立冬 - 走几首大师的《冬》古诗英译

                On Hearing a Pedlar Hawking Fish Piteously Outside the Wall in Snow
                Fan Chengda
                He dare not stay indoors, in dire need of food.
                Ice on beard, he often has to stand in snow.
                He might be sitting at home with door closed if he chose,
                But gnawing hunger is far more unbearable than the cold.(文殊、王晋熙、邓炎昌)
                Thinking of My Buddhist Friend Hu on a Snowy Night
                The watchman’s drum reports the approaching day,
                And through my mirror I see a man decay.
                Bamboos are soughing at my window sills,
                Snows are covering, facing my door, the hills.
                With downy flakes the lanes appear demure.
                The spacious court with white on white’s so pure!
                And pray, dear friend, in musing long disposed,
                Are you still in sacred searches behind doors closed?(王宝童)
                Winter Scene
                Liu Kezhuang
                I rise to see through the window the first sunlight;
                Beyond bamboos the autumn wind blows with its might.
                I bid a servant to warm the room up and down,
                And tell a lad to iron my old winter gown.
                When ripe like green bamboo leaves bubbles the new wine,
                Like golden orange sliced ia the fat of crabs fine.
                How I admire a garden full of autumn flowers.
                Enjoy your fill or you’ll regret the misspent hours.
                Winter Scene
                Su Shi
                The lotus puts up no umbrella to the rain;
                Yet frost-proof branches of chrysanthemums remain.
                Do not forget of a year the loveliest scene
                When oranges look like gold and tangerines jade-green.
                The Prince Recalled
                Song of Winter
                Li Zhongyuan
                The wind has swept away dark snow and cloud on high;
                Two or three wild geese sing lonely songs in the sky.
                Alone in my cold quilt, how can I bear their cry!
                The moon is bright,
                How slender are windowside mume blossoms in sight!(许渊冲、许明)

                Thinking of Home on Winter Solstice Night at Handan
                Bai Juyi
                At roadside inn I pass the Winter Solstice Day,
                Clasping my knees, my shadow is my company,
                I think, till dead of night my family would stay,
                And talk about the poor lonely wayfaring me.(许渊冲)
                Thinking of Home During the Winter Festival at Handan
                Bai Juyi
                I stayed at Handan guest house all
                through the Winter Festival, sitting,
                clasping my knees, only my shadow to
                accompany me, fancying that
                my whole family was sitting
                in the lamplight talking about a
                lonely man on a distant journey.(Rewi Alley)
                October ushers in the winter phase
                When northern wind blows for days.
                The sky is cloudless with a cold breeze;
                A heavy frost hangs on the trees.
                The cranes are singing at the dawn;
                The wild geese are flying south at morn.
                The hawks are hidden in the nest;
                The bears stay in their den and rest.
                The farm's equipment has been stored;
                The crops are laid away in hoard.
                The inns are fixed to look their best,
                So as to receive the passing guest.
                In such a happy mood I am
                That I sing it as an epigram.? (汪榕培)?

                Thinking of Mume Blossoms While Wandering
                —to the tune of Qingpingyue
                Year after year while it snowed,
                I often drank to intoxication.
                And I had the fresh Mume blossoms
                Inserted in my hairpins,
                I ruffed gently the Mume blossoms,
                Till they turned to be withered petals,
                When I felt sad, depressed,
                Crystal tears dropped on my dress.
                Now I wandered from place to place,
                My hair turns grey on my temples.
                Beware of the violent wind in the evening,
                The Mume blossoms are in danger!(茅于美)

                Farewell to a Comrade
                Cold gusts from Arctic regions sweep the ground,
                And snowflakes countless fly through the wintry sky,
                Covering with spotless robe the earth around,
                While snow flowers frail on twigs and branches lie.
                As when a genial breeze in early Spring
                Snakes open all the pear-trees’ blossoms white,
                And sombre-looking trees with leafless boughs
                Are decked with radiance in a single night.
                Through crevices and slits in bamboo blinds,
                Which shield the entrance to our hempen tent,
                Snow-whirls and keen winds blow and chill the blood,
                In spite of furs and wadded garments blent.
                Cold so intense is felt by all alike—
                The General cannot stretch his horn-tipped bow,
                In coats of mail the Captains stiffly move,
                While soldiers growl or mutter curses low.
                Far off the desert stretches as a sea,
                In frozen ridges like to driven clouds,
                Alas, the multitudes of warriors brave
                The pathless waste of cruel sand enshrouds!
                But now our happy comrade homeward turns,
                We’ll drink his health to sound of viol and flute,
                And see him safely on his journey start;
                Another cup, and then the old salute!
                Falls thick the snow around the fortress walls,
                The red flag frozen stirs not in the air,
                As forth we ride from out the Eastern gate,—
                In jostling groups, or quietly pair by pair.
                Nearing he Tien-shan road we draw in rein,
                To bid our comrade there a last farewell,
                And watch him upward climb the mountain path
                To peaks that touch the clouds where genii dwell.
                But soon the winding path conceals from view
                The fading horsemen as they upward wend;
                All we now see are footprints in the snow,
                As 'ih-lu fuh-sing' we towards them send.(Charles Budd)
                The White Snow Song;
                A Farewell to Wu P'an-kuan on his Return Home.
                The north wind rolls the dust along, and snaps the grasses sere.
                Why do the snowflakes fill the sky in the eighth moon of the year
                'Tis just as on a night in spring sudden the wind doth wail,
                Then from a myriad pear trees fly the blossoms scattered,
                And through the pearly lattice dew the curtains of my bed.
                The fox-fur coat, nor quilted vest, may mitigate the cold;
                But no respite tends the bowmen who escort the chieftain bold,
                Who despite the bitter frost are clad in coat of iron mail.
                For mile on mile the ice-bound tracts hedge in the Gobi Plains,
                And league on league the sad clouds lower, and frozen silence reigns.
                Last night the bold lieutenant purchase wine to speed the guest,
                And music rose from lute, guitar, and sweet flute of the west.
                Outside the yamen gate the snow drifted confusedly,
                And rigid in the biting wind the red flag stood on high.
                Escorting you upon your way, to the Eastern Gate I rode,
                And there I marked the mountain path was filled with drifting snow;
                Full soon you disappeared as up the winding way you go,
                And wistfully I lingered where the snow your horses trode.(C. Gaunt?)
                A Song of White Snow in Farewell to Field-clerk Wu Going Home
                The north wind rolls the white grasses and breaks them;
                And the Eighth-month snow across the Tartar sky
                Is like a spring gale, come up in the night,
                Blowing open the petals of ten thousand pear-trees.
                It enters the pearl blinds, it wets the silk curtains;
                A fur coat feels cold, a cotton mat flimsy;
                Bows become rigid, can hardly be drawn,
                And the metal of armour congeals on the men;
                The sand-sea deepens with fathomless ice,
                And darkness masses its endless clouds;
                But we drink to our guest bound home from camp,
                And play him barbarian lutes, guitars, harps;
                Till at dusk, when the drifts are crushing our tents
                And our frozen red flags cannot flutter in the wind,
                We watch him through Wheel-Tower Gate going eastward
                Into the snow-mounds of Heaven-Peak Road…
                And then he disappears at the turn of the pass,
                Leaving behind him only hoof-prints.(Witter Bynner?)
                Watching Sunny Snow at Twilight
                Jia Dao
                Staff-leaning, I watched the sunny scene after snow,
                Clouds above the brook stacked away infinitely.
                A woodsman returned to his snow-white abode,
                The cold sun descending the precipitous peak.
                Wildfire burned on the grassy ridge,
                Broken columns of smoke out of pines and stones.
                Just about ready to return to the mountain temple,
                There came the tolling of the heavenly twilight bell.(任治稷、余正)
                Night Snow
                Bai Juyi
                I wondered why the covers felt so cold,
                and I saw how bright my window was.
                Night far gone, I know the snow must be deep—

                from time to time I hear the bamboo cracking.(Burton Watson?)


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