| 題名： | 李憑箜篌引 |
| 作者： | 李賀 |
| 吳絲蜀桐張高秋，空白凝雲頹不流。江娥啼竹素女愁，李憑中國彈箜篌。崑山玉碎鳳皇呌，芙蓉泣露香蘭笑。十二門前融冷光，二十三絲動紫皇。女媧鍊石補天處，石破天驚逗秋雨。夢入坤山教神嫗，老魚跳波瘦蛟舞。吳質不眠倚桂樹，露脚斜飛溼寒兔。 | |
| 英譯： |
SILK from Wu, paulownia from Shu, Open high autumn.
In the white sky the frozen clouds Falling, not floating.
Ladies of the River weeping among bamboos,The White Girl mournful;
Such is Li P'ing playing his harp In the Middle Kingdom.
Jade from Mount K'un is shattered, Phoenixes shriek.
Lotuses are weeping dew,Fragrant orchids smile.
Before the twelve gates of the city The cold light melts.
The twenty-three strings have power to move The Purple King.
The goddess Nü Kua smelts her stones To weld the sky.
Stones split asunder, the sky startles, Autumn rains gush forth.
He goes in dreams to the Magic Mountain To teach the Weird Crone.
Old fishes leap above the waves, Gaunt dragons dance.
Even Wu Kang, unsleeping still, Leans on his cassia tree,
While wing-foot dew drifts wetly Over the shivering hare.
In autumn's fullness in the Middle Kingdom, when Li Ping Plucks silk strings from Wu framed with sycamore from Shu, The floating clouds stand still over empty mountains, The River Maidens weep again in bamboo groves, And even Su Nu aches with envy when hearing the sounds that stream from Li Ping's harp, $As sweet as$ 00 shattering jade and phoenixes' cries. Lotus shed their dewy tears, and orchids smile at Sounds that banish chill gloom from out the Twelve Gates, Twenty-three strings that could rouse the Purple Emperor himself. The music drifts to Nu Wa's place of melting stone where she's supposed to mend the rent in Heaven, and 00 from the stunned sky the autumn rains descend. It journeys dreamily to the holy mountain, where the old Hag humbly lends her ears. The aged fish leaps high above the waves, and the thinnest of dragons prances. The tired Wu Gang, forgetting sleep, leans spellbound against the lunar cassia tree, while steadily slanting dew drenches the chill Hare. On the taut silkspun strings of high autumn Clouds resound against the empty mountains. Like the daughters of Shao who wept among bamboos $(Or like the sad white girl who plucked the strings,)$ So does Li P'ing play his harp through the country, Clean as split jade, soft as the bluebird's song, Sad as dew-drops on lotos-leaves, happy as fragrant orchids. His song melts the ice on the twelve imperial gates. His twenty-three strings move the heart of the purple-robed King. Listen, from the stone-mended clifts of Heaven which the goddess restored. The stone broke again, the sky shuddered, autumn rains fell, But the harper walked in a dream to teach the old goddess on the mountain Near the Abyss where ancient fish leap and gaunt dragons dance. The unsleeping listener leaned on a cinnamon bough And saw the feet of the dew climbing up the shivering Hare. |
| 日譯： | 暫無日譯內容 |