| 英譯： |
In the year of the Snake, the Twelfth Moon,
I return from the land of Liang to the land of Ch'in,
Descending the southern slope of the Ta-san,
Crossing the Wei to reach its northern bank.
The grass and trees are half open and cracked,
Not as they should be on an icy and snowy morning,
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Parched and curled, without fragrant moisture.
In the upper fields grow oak trees;
In the lower fields grow brambles and thorns.
Farming tools are discarded by the road;
Hungry oxen die on the empty mounds.
With lingering steps I walk through the village;
Out of ten houses, not one survives.
The survivors all avert their faces and weep,
Without clothes in which to welcome a guest.
At first they seem afraid to be questioned,
But reaching the door, they speak to me fully:
"The land to the right of the capital is poor and thin,
And the people here are often in hardships and poverty.
Formerly it was known as a happy land,
Thanks to the benign rule of good governors.
The officials were as pure as ice or jade,
The clerks as dear as one's six velatives.
The boys did not go to distant wars;
The girls were married into neighbors' families.
Coarse liquor filled the earthen pots:
Stored rice was left to rot in the granaries.
Strong lads kept concubines;
Old men pampered their grandchildren.
Moreover, since the Chen-kuan reign,
High officials had mostly been scholars,
And it had been a custom for virtuous governors
To be summoned to Court to control the Potter's Wheel.
But by the time of the K'ai-yüan reign,
A wicked man had obstructed the administration:
The Duke of Chin, jealous of scholarly governors,
Often praised the merits of frontier commanders,
And appointed those who were brave and strong
To govern the people who had lived in peace.
Then trouble arose on the Central Plain:
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But either from the Emperor's favorite courtiers
Or from the imperial relatives by marrniage.
The people of the Central Plain were butchered and dissected,
While flunkeys were glutted with fat pigs.
A royal baby was abandoned without mitk,
While an imperial consort 'adopted' a barbarian.
Heavy gifts exhausted the Middle Kingdom;
Strong soldiers reached the northern frontiet—
Two hundred thousand with bows and arrows,
All with arms as long as those of apes.
Over a distance of three thousand, li,
To and from the capital traveled the Vulture:
Every five li he changed his horse;
Every ten li he had a feast.
A stir of his finger or a glance moved the sun;
His moods changed spring and autumn round.
Ministers and courtiers were shamefully scolded, scorned,
Spat on, and thrown away like balls of dung!
At the Court, where envoys from all nations assembled,
The Son of Heaven sat behind the porch;
Where colorful banners turned in the rising sun,
And an auspicious haze surrounded the jade throne,
Not only was a golden screen specially set up,
But the curtain of pearls was lifted high.
Stroking his beard and looking proudly ahead,
The traitor sat before the imperial couch.
Those who offended him died at his heels,
Those who fawned on him were raised to the top.
He showed off one luxury after another;
And encroached on the lands of other powerful men.
Because of the mistake of treating him with favor,
His demands gradually grew more and more.
The barbarian traitors came from the northeast,
So quickly that the skey seemed overturned.
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And heavy troops were mostly on the frontier;
In rows of towns by the long river,
At daybreak the rebel's banners were raised.
One only heard the barbarian horsemen coming,
But did not see imperial troops stationed.
Wives with children in their arms cried;
Concubines held onto the carriage awnings.
Having been born and reared in years of peace,
They didn't know doors should be closed at night!
The young and strong were drafted into the army;
The weak and old guarded the empty village.
Parting alive, they vowed to fight to the death,
Their wiped-off tears joined the artumn clouds
The courtiers were scared like timid roebucks,
The generals fled as if they had been sick.
For the rebel they cleaned the Shang-yano Palace,
And caught people to send to the T'ung Gate.
The jade carriage headed for the Southern Dipper,
Not knowing when it would ever teturn.
Truly one knows that after long peace
Such thunderstorms would be encountered!
Messengers asked about the tripods' sizes;
Sycophants sought high offices.
They scrambled for gains and spied on one another;
Who could tell the owl from the phoenix?
A thousand horses left—not one returned,
Nor any of the ten thousand carriages.
The city empty: sparrows and mice died.
The people gone: jackals and wolves howled.
In the south, the riches of Wu and Yüeh were exhausted;
In the West, the River's source was lost to the barbarians.
Therefore the Imperial Treasury of the Right
Fell to ruins, leaving empty walls.
It was just as if a man's body
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The muscles of the body were half paralyzed,
And rank odor grew under the arms.
The successive sacred Emperors suffered this shame;
They felt it in their hearts but could not speak.
The counselors stood there with their hands folded,
Warning one another not to be forward.
The empire was so poor that looms were empty,
And the Imperial Treasury had no gold or coins.
Brave soldiers stood in frost and snow,
Their stomachs empty and their clothes thin.
Most of the time their pay was overdue,
While the value of copper and lead rose.
Shan-tung looked toward Ho-pei:
They were still linked by cooking smoke.
The Court hardly had time to supply itself;
Hardships lasted more than half a year.
Travelers were charged levies on their goods;
Residents were taxed on their houses by the room.
Then some began to create obstacles;
In wild confusion spears and lances were used.
Imperial envoys came with staff and banner
To bestow noble ranks of the heavenly Court.
Of those defeated, whole families died;
Those who survived proved enduring:
Treated with honors a king should not bestow,
Appeased as if they had been barbarian tribes.
Was this to court the loss of Red Town?
No, only in the hope of saving the whole.
High and mighty stands the council chamber,
Where the premier is glutted with eight delicacies.
May one presume to ask the subordinate official:
Who is wielding this power now?
Sores and ulcers have grown for several decades,
But no one dares to pluck them by the root!
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People are few; military duties increase.
In recent years, the son of a cow-doctor
Climbed up the city wall and the altar.
With blind eyes he held the great banner
And dwelled in this western suburb of the capital.
Enjoying others' misfortunes, he forgot his enemies;
Forming a faction, he was aggressive and conceited.
In life he was feared by other people;
In death he was pitied by no one.
A sharp knife cut off his head,
Which was hung up like a pig's or cow's.
At Feng-hsiang, three hundred li from the capital,
Soldiers and horses roamed like the Yellow Turbans.
At midnight came a military order:
Fifteen thousand men to be stationed here.
The villagers, scared that they had to support so many,
Fled, old and young holding each other.
Sons and grandsons not yet reaching childhood
Were abandoned without even a sad look.
People no longer discussed where to go,
But simply wished to die among the hills.
Since then, it has been another three years,
And no sweet rain has fallen in spring.
Thieves and bandits rise at midday:
Who are they but mostly the poor people!
The military governor killed the local constable;
This, we fear, is no way to catch the thieves.
We can hardly see one another at a foot's distance;
There's so much dust after long drought!
The government soldiers carry bows at their waists,
Claiming they are on official patrol,
But we fear, when they come to a desolate place,
These men will shoot at the common people!
We are ashamed to tell you the whole story,
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Go to Mei-wu from Chen-ts'ang,
For in this place one should avoid nightfall!"
As I fnish listening to this talk,
I feel as if burned by indignation.
I've heard that when one man, Hui, was raised,
All the bandits fled for fear of him.
I've also heard that order or disorder
All depends on man and not on heaven!
I would, for the sake of this affair,
Rip my heart out before the sovereign;
Knock my head on the ground until fresh blood
Gushes out and defles the Purple Palace!
But the ninefold gates darkly debar me;
In vain do my tears wet my lips!
Junior clerks are now high ministers;
Servants and stable boys are now generals.
Be careful not to utter these words again,
For these words are unbearable for one to hear!
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