| 題名： | 羌村 二 |
| 作者： | 杜甫 |
| 晚歲迫偷生，還家少歡趣。嬌兒不離膝，畏我復却去。憶昔好追涼，故繞池邊樹。蕭蕭北風勁，撫事煎百慮。賴知禾黍收，已覺糟牀注。如今足斟酌，且用慰遲暮。 | |
| 英譯： |
In my late age I am compelled to live a stolen life.
When I came home, my spirits were drooping.
My darling children do not go away from my knees;
They are afraid I may run away again.
I remember in ancient times how I liked the shade,
And often walked beneath the trees near the pool.
While the north wind screamed and chattered.
Now I embrace the past, burning with a thousand cares,
Consoled by the thought of the fat rice in harvest,
And the pure wine dripping through the wine-press.
Now that there is enough wine to drink,
I can console the remaining days of my life.
Already late in life I can only muddle along, Without much joy even at home. My loving son will not leave my lap, Fearing to be once again parted from me. I used to seek the sbade, To saunter under the trees around the pond. But now the north wind is raging, And looking back over the years, I am tormented with anxiety. Lucky the crops are in, The wine-press will soon be dripping. There will be enough to drink, To comfort my aging soul. At risk of life to keep New Year, Homecoming gives me little joy: The children will not leave my knees For fear I should be gone again. Reseeking the remembered cool, I skirt the trees beside the pond, But in the wind hard-whistling A thousand cares prey on the mind. Knowing the grain's been harvested, I dare presume the still has run Enough for us to pour and drink Comfort for the declining sun. |
| 日譯： | 暫無日譯內容 |