| 英譯： |
A YOUNG, owl-shouldered nobleman Just turned twenty,
Teeth like cowries,
Scarlet lips.
Rainbow-spirited,
Could drink like a rain-jar!
Galloping homewards at night Past watchmen calling the hours.
He'd go straight to the Palace galleries, Wander through the Pepper Apartments.
Motley furs and golden rings Gleaming with ornate patterns.
Laughing and flirting in jade halls With girls from gold houses,
Playing, mimicking under the stage The Han-tan singing-girls,
Singing and telling stories, The perfect ladies' man.
All brocade sleeves and embroidered face He came to the emperor
Who presented him with ten bushels of pearls
And a pair of white jade rings,
Bestowing on him a new, gold seal Dangling from a purple sash. Resplendent!
Horses flying past!
Rivers of people!
Nine Ministers, Six Officers, Eyes fixed on his shoes.
Did he want the sun and moon to spin? He turned his palm around.
Or did he want a river? He drew a line on the ground.
His towering, high-cornered hat Seemed to cut the clouds.
As he hurried along at dawn, Rattling his sword, Cleaving the purple mist.
He would give mere lictors a thousand yards Of embroidered silk,
And present a thousand pounds of gold To household servants.
Around the twelve gates of Lo-yang His mansions sprawled,
Through warm, spring air to the sapphire sky The slow smoke crawled.
Golden door-rings threw back the sun's Dazzling red light.
Brazen dragons, mouthing rings, Writhed locked in fight.
On perfumed mats his jewelled girls Lounged drunkenly,
Merman-pongee netted his casements Invisibly.
He'd dine on a phoenix from Cinnabar Hill When he wished to 'rough it',
As for potage aux petits macaques, He'd never touch it.
Golden toads with gaping mouths Burnt fragrant, orchid candles,
Singing-girls in battle-array, With jangling armour.
Nobody knew if the blossom-rain Had fallen at night,
Only that spring grass grew more lush By the terrace pools.
Clamour of strings and pipes encircled The gaping heavens,
The sound of Hung Yai's flute came stealing From the azure void,
A single arrow shot at the welkin Pierced two tigers,
They held the reins, let their steeds gallop on Among the clouds, Thunder from a rainless sky!
Wild sleeves criss-cross like bamboos, Flute-girls were dancing,
Singers from Wu, like green parakeets Just learning to talk.
He was wealthy enough to fill a cave With purple gold,
Yet asked for presents of new costly rabbits Burnt with his brand.
Three empresses Fifty colonels, Seven noblemen.
A pair of generals— All from his family.
Though these once gorgeous clouds dislimned And flew away,
Translated to our capital They brought us spring today.
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