| 題名： | 春日醉起言志 |
| 作者： | 李白 |
| 處世若大夢，胡為勞其生。所以終日醉，頹然臥前楹。覺來盼庭前，一鳥花間鳴。借問此何時，春風語流鶯。感之欲歎息，對酒還自傾。浩歌待明月，曲盡已忘情。 | |
| 英譯： |
LIFE is only a dream. Why all the unrest?
$(To me wisdom)$ Lies in being drunk perpetually
And sleeping the rest of the time. $(And that I did one day;)$
When I awoke and looked around me,
I saw a bird chirping among the flowers.
I asked what day it was. They told me:
'It's spring. An oriole is singing.'
I sighed deeply, for the voice had touched me.
I helped myself again to a copious draught,
And sang a cheerful song, while waiting for the moon;
When I had ended, it was all forgotten.
"Life in the World is but a big dream; I will not spoil it by any labour or care." So saying, I was drunk all the day, Lying helpless at the porch in front of my door. When I woke up, I blinked at the garden-lawn; A lonely bird was singing amid the flowers. I asked myself, had the day been wet or fine? The Spring wind was telling the mango-bird. Moved by its song I soon began to sigh, And as wine was there I filled my own cup. Wildly singing I waited for the moon to rise; When my song was over, all my senses had gone. Life is an immense dream. Why toil? All day long I drowse with wine, And lie by the post at the front door. Awakening, I gaze upon the garden trees, $(And, hark,)$ a bird is singing among the flowers. Pray, what season may this be? Ah, the songster's a mango-bird, Singing to the passing wind of spring. I muse and muse myself to sadness, Once more I pour my wine, and singing aloud, Await the bright moonrise. My song is ended — What troubled my soul?— I remember not. What is life after all but a dream, And why should such pother be made! Better far to be tipsy, I deem, And doze all day long in the shade. when I wake and look out on the lawn, I beat midst the dowers s bird sing; I ask. "Is it evening or dawn?" The mango bird whistles, ."Tis spring." Overpowered with the beautiful sight, Another full goblet I pour, And would sing till the moon rises bright— But soon I'm as drunk as before. What is life after all but a dream? And why should such pother be made? Better far to be tipsy, I deem, And doze all day long in the shade. When I wake and look out on the lawn, I hear midst the flowers a bird sing; I ask, "Is it evening or dawn?'' The mango-bird whistles, "'Tis spring." Overpower'd with the beautiful sight, Another full goblet I pour, And would sing till the moon rises bright — But soon I'm as drunk as before. "LIFE in the World is but a big dream; I will not spoil it by any labour or care." So saying, I was drunk all the day, Lying helpless at the porch in front of my door. When I woke up, I blinked at the garden-lawn; A lonely bird was singing amid the flowers. I asked myself, had the day been wet or fine? The Spring wind was telling the mango-bird. Moved by its song I soon began to sigh, And as wine was there I filled my own cup. Wildly singing I waited for the moon to rise; When my song was over, all my senses had gone. Life after all Is but a dream; So why Should we moil and toil? It is better far To drink The whole day long, And lie lazy Before my door. I awaken, 0 And hear the song Of a bird Amid the blossoms. I ask What season it may be. "Spring” whispers the wind, And the mango-bird calls "spring." I am duly impressed, And with a sigh I pour out A full cup of wine. I sing to myself, And watch the bright moon rise, But before my song Has reached its end, My thoughts have vanished Quite. THIS time of ours Is like a great, confused dream. Why should one spend one’s life in toil? Thinking this, I have been drunk all day. I fell down and lay prone by the pillars in front of the house; When I woke up, I gazed for a long time At the courtyard before me. A bird sings among the flowers. May I ask what season this is? Spring wind, The bright oriole of the water-flowing flight calls. My feelings make me want to sigh. The wine is still here, I will throw back my head and drink. I sing splendidly, I wait for the bright moon. Already, by the end of the song, I have forgotten my feel-ings. What is life after all but a dream? And why should such pother be made? Better far to be tipsy, I deem, And doze all day long in the shade. When I wake and look out on the lawn, I hear midst the flowers a bird sing: I ask, “Is it evening or dawn?” The mango-bird whistles, “’Tis spring.” Overpower'd with the beautiful sight, Another full goblet I pour, And would sing till the moon rises bright— But soon I'm as drunk as before. What is life after all but a dream? And why should such pother be made? Better far to be tipsy, I deem, And doze all day long in the shade. When I wake and look out on the lawn, I hear midst the flowers a bird sing; I ask, "Is it evening or dawn?'' The mango-bird whistles, "'Tis spring." Overpower'd with the beautiful sight, Another full goblet I pour, And would sing till the moon rises bright — But soon I'm as drunk as before. |
| 日譯： | 暫無日譯內容 |