| 題名： | 自京赴奉先縣詠懷五百字 |
| 作者： | 杜甫 |
| 杜陵有布衣，老大意轉拙。許身一何愚，竊比稷與契。居然成濩落，白手甘契闊。蓋棺事則已，此志常覬豁。窮年憂黎元，歎息腸內熱。取笑同學翁，浩歌彌激烈。非無江海志，蕭灑送日月。生逢堯舜君，不忍便永訣。當今廊廟具，構廈豈云缺。葵藿傾太陽，物性固莫奪。顧惟螻蟻輩，但自求其穴。胡爲慕大鯨，輒擬偃溟渤。以茲悟生理，獨恥事干謁。兀兀遂至今，忍爲塵埃沒。終媿巢與由，未能易其節。沈飲聊自適，放歌頗愁絕。歲暮百草零，疾風高岡裂。天衢陰崢嶸，客子中夜發。霜嚴衣帶斷，指直不得結。凌晨過驪山，御榻在嵽嵲。蚩尤塞寒空，蹴蹋崖谷滑。瑤池氣鬱律，羽林相摩戛。君臣留歡娛，樂動殷樛嶱。賜浴皆長纓，與宴非短褐。彤庭所分帛，本自寒女出。鞭撻其夫家，聚斂貢城闕。聖人筐篚恩，實欲邦國活。臣如忽至理，君豈棄此物。多士盈朝廷，仁者宜戰慄。況聞內金盤，盡在衛霍室。中堂舞神仙，煙霧散玉質。煖客貂鼠裘，悲管逐清瑟。勸客駝蹄羹，霜橙壓香橘。朱門酒肉臭，路有凍死骨。榮枯咫尺異，惆悵難再述。北轅就涇渭，官渡又改轍。羣冰從西下，極目高崪兀。疑是崆峒來，恐觸天柱折。河梁幸未坼，枝撐聲窸窣。行旅相攀援，川廣不可越。老妻寄異縣，十口隔風雪。誰能久不顧，庶往共飢渴。入門聞號咷，幼子飢已卒。吾寧舍一哀，里巷亦嗚咽。所媿爲人父，無食致夭折。豈知秋未登，貧寠有蒼卒。生常免租稅，名不隸征伐。撫迹猶酸辛，平人固騷屑。默思失業徒，因念遠戍卒。憂端齊終南，澒洞不可掇。 | |
| 英譯： |
From Tu-ling, there is a poor and obscure man; The older he grows,
the more impractical he becomes, Until he is foolish enough to wish
To serve his country as did the best men of the past. The only result
has been disappointment; Though white-haired, he has to stand hard-
ship. Still he persists in the face of frustration, Not until he lies in his
coffin, will he give up. He worries about the people the year round,
He sighs, and his heart burns with anxiety. Though his old school-
mates may laugh at him, He continues to pour out songs, sad and pas-
sionate. He has not forgotten the dream of sailing away on the river
and the sea To while away days and months, easy and without care.
Simply because he lives under an extraordinary prince, He loathes the
thought of cutting himself off permanently. He knows there is already
enough building material: No new wood is needed for the edifice of
government. But that the sunflower turns to follow the sun Is its nature
which it cannot help. Yet he reminds himself of the tiny ants: Each
will seek its own hole. Why then should an ant emulate the giant
whale And wish to float on the great waves? From this he has come
to understand the principles of life, And is only shy of imploring others
to help. Failure after failure continues to the present, And he will have
to contend with ending in the dust-Regretting that he had not simu-
lated the best hermits Who could not be made to leave their hermitage.
Let him drink to soothe himself, Let him sing to break the spell of
sadness.
Toward the end of the year the grasses are dead, A fierce wind tears
the high ridges. The thoroughfare from the capital is darkest When I,
a traveler, set out at midnight. Biting frost snaps the girdle on my
clothes, With stiff fingers, I cannot tie another dnot. By dawn I pass
the Li Hills; I know His Majesty is reposing in the Hua-ch'ing Palace.
Here the banners of Mars Fill the cold air; The troops tramping over
the hills have worn the rocks smooth. A danse mist rises above the
jasper-green pools. The Imperial guards rub elbows one with another.
Here His Majesty entertains his ministers, And music echoes in the
ravines. Only the high dignitaries may bathe here, The humble people
have no share in the feastings. But the silk distributed in the Imperial
harem Was woven by poor women; The officers beat their husbands
To extort the tribute for the Court. His Majesty's lavish gifts Were
meant to benefit the country and the people. It is the nimisters who
have ignored vital principles of government And not His Majesty
who causes the waste. Among the many talented men that fill the
Court, The benevolent ones may well take fright. And we hear too
that the golden platters of the palace Have all gone to the houses of
the royally related. In the central halls there are fair goddesses; An
air of perfume moves with each charming figure. They clothe their
guests with warm furs of sable, Entertain them with the finest music
of pipe and string, Feed them with the broth of the camel's pad, With
pungent tangerines, and oranges ripened in frost. Behind the red-
lacquered gates, wine is left to sour, meat to rot. Outside these gates
lie the bones of the frozen and the starved. THe flourshing and the
withered are just a foot apart-It rends my heart to ponder on it.
I turn north to where the Ching and the Wei meet, And find that the
ferry has changed again to another spot. Many torrents pour down
from the west. The further I look, the higher the waters seem to be.
They may have come from the K'ung-t'ung regions; Might they not
have destroyed the Hill of Heaven's Pillars? Frotunately a bridge still
stands, Though a loud cracking rises from its infirm supports. Travelers
hold hands and crawl over laboriously; I almost curse the river for being
so wide.
I have left my good wife in a strange districe, For disastrous times have
broken up our household of ten. I cannot leave them any longer with-
out care, So I have come to share hunger and thirst. Wails rise when I
enter the door; I am told my infant boy has died of hunger. Why
should I suppress a natural grief When even the neighbors in the village
weep? I am ashamed of being a father, so poor and useless That a
little son had to die for the lack of food. And I hardly knew that the
good harvest of the autumn Had been of no help in a crisis of poverty!
I am one of the privileged, free from taxation And exempt from draft.
If my lot is so bitter, That of a common man must be worse. When I
think of those whose proverty has been seized, And of those recruited
to garrison the far frontiers, My anxiety rises like a flood to inundate
even the Southern Mountains, With mad swells utterly impossible fo
abate.
A humble scholar from Duling, Grown stupid with age, Fool enough to aspire To be a prince's right hand! Come to naught; yet unremitting, Though my hair's turned white. My will shall not change, Till death ends all. Throughout the year I worry about the people; Heavy sighs bespeak a heavy heart. Sometimes I burst into impassioned song, Heedless of ridicule by crusted academics. Not that I feel no yearning to be at large, To watch sun and moon go by with a mind at ease; But living under an emperor sage and noble, I cannot bring myself to leave his service for ever. Able ministers there are at court, Pillars of state not lacking, Even so, it's in the nature of the sunflower To turn to the sun, no altering that. And then I think of the ants That are content with their holes. Why envy the whale Sailing in the vasty deep? So I awake to the truths of life, And disdain to seek favour from those in power. I'd rather toil along, Till I fall into dust. To my shame I cannot be a hermit, Cannot retract my allegiance. I can only find comfort in drink, And try to sing my sorrows away. Late in the year all grass is sere, Violent winds threaten to split the ridges asunder. At midnight i set out from the capital, Picking my way through streets now cold and sombre. The frost is sharp, my girdle snaps, And my fingers are too stiff to tie it. At dawn I pass by Mount Li, Where the emperor is making a sojourn. Thick mist fills the frigid sky. Down here: slippery rocks dangerous to tread. High up: palaces veiled in vaporous gloom, Imperial guards massed in proud array. There the emperor and his courtiers. amuse themselves With medley of music gloriously played. Hot spring baths, sumptuous feastsㅡ Such are for nobles only, not for common folk. But the silks given away in token of imperial grace Are from the looms of poor women Whose husbands, thrashed into submission, Had to offer their home products as tribute. The emperor's bounty is intended to encourage Loyal service to the country. If this is not borne in mind, Largesse becomes sheer waste. Let those who crowd the court ponder: Men of virtue would not be without tremors. I hear that the treasures of the imperial house Have passed into the possession of powerful families, That in the banquet halls of these nobles Fairies dance in a haze of incense, While honoured guests in mink and sable Wallow in the rapturous music of pipes and zither, Not forgetting to do justice to Camel's knuckles and all. Behind vermilion portals meat is left to rot, While out in the streets starving people are frozen to death! Prosperity and decay, so distant, yet so near: Distressing--what more need be said? Taking a northbound carriage, I reach the river--- But no ferry! Huge masses of floating ice descending, It seems the primeval mounts have shattered-an awesome sight! Lucky the bridge remains, Though dangerously creaking. Fellow travellers hold on to each other, Fearful of failure to make the far bank. My wife and children live in Fengxian, A family of ten separated by wind and snow. Could one be unmindful of their fate? One would rather suffer hunger and thirst together with them. At last I arrive home, only to hear cries of woe. My youngest son is dead, alas! dead from starvation! There's no repressing my grief, Not even the neighbours could help weeping. That I, the father, should see him die-- For lack of food-before his time! The harvest is in, Yet the poor are direly stricken. I, exempt from taxation and military service, Even I cannot avert disaster! How sorely, then, are the common folk afflicted! Think of the vagrants, the frontier guards. My anxiety swells, rising to tremendous heights, Boundless, orderless, not to be controlled. |
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