| 題名： | 北征 四 |
| 作者： | 杜甫 |
| 況我墮胡塵， 及歸盡華髮。 經年至茅屋， 妻子衣百結。 慟哭松聲回， 悲泉共幽咽。 平生所嬌兒， 顏色白勝雪。 見耶背面啼， 垢膩腳不襪。 床前兩小女， 補綻才過膝。 海圖坼波濤， 舊繡移曲折。 天吳及紫鳳， 顛倒在裋褐。 老夫情懷惡， 嘔泄臥數日。 那無囊中帛， 救汝寒凜慄。 粉黛亦解苞， 衾裯稍羅列。 瘦妻面復光， 癡女頭自櫛。 學母無不為， 曉妝隨手抹。 移時施朱鉛， 狼藉畫眉闊。 生還對童稚， 似欲忘飢渴。 問事競挽鬚， 誰能即嗔喝。 翻思在賊愁， 甘受雜亂聒。 新歸且慰意， 生理焉能說。 | |
| 英譯： |
The Most Revered is still covered with dust;
how many days before he stops training the troops?
I look up and see the sky's colors have changed
I sit and sense weird vapors dispersed
A dark wind comes out of the northwest,
sad, dull, following the Uighurs.
Their king wants to help, as an ally;
their folk are good at the "galloping ambush.''
He sends soldiers, five thousand men,
and fast horses, ten thousand mounts.
Of such people, just a few would be best
everyone agreed to this brave decision.
Using them, always as "eagle steeds,"
will smash the enemy faster than an arrow.
The Holy Heart waits with great composure;
but at current discussions, spirits begin to flag.
At the Yi and the Lo a finger-palm recovery
the Westem Capital not needing to be stormed
The government armies ask to penetrate deeply:
their latent valor can be released all at once!
Then will you rise and open up Ch'ing and Hsü,
whirl your gaze, capture the Heng and the Chieh.
A vast sky piles up frost and dew
a corrective spirit includes stern destruction
misfortune reversed it's the year to destroy the Hu
the force is gathered it's the month to take the Hu
Hu destiny can it last for long?
The imperial strand was never meant to be broken!
I, too, have fallen in the dust of the Barbarians; After I escaped my hair was streaked with white. Nearly a whole year passed before I returned home. There was my wife clothed in a hundred patches, And our sobbing grief sounded like soughing pines, And our lonely tears echoed like sad fountains. That child whom I have adored from my youth, Whose complexion was whiter than snow— She saw her father turn back his face and whimper, And there were no stockings on her dirty, greasy feet. In front of the bed stood two little girls, Covered in patches, their clothes hardy reaching their knees; From some embroidered sea their mother had cut the waves, But the ancient embroidery was stitched confusedly. There was Tien Hu and the Purple Phoenix All turned upside-down on their short clothes. I, an old man, filled with resentment For some days lay on my bed, vomiting, purging. Fortunately I have clothes somewhere in my baggage, And perhaps this will save them from the shivering cold. I take powder and black stones from their wrappings, Quilts and coverlets are soon folded and arranged. Once again my poor wife's face is glowing, And the silly girls comb their own hair, Imitating their mother in everything— So carelessly they paint their faces in the morning, Absorbed in daubing themselves with rouge and white lead, Scattering on their faces such widely-spaced eyebrows. Well, I have returned alive to play with my children, And it is as though I had already forgotten hunger and thirst. They ask questions, crowd round me, cling to my beard. How can I be angry or drive them away? Meditating on my grief among the rebels, I cheerfully listen to all their chattering. So, newly returned, for a while I comfort my feelings, But one thing remains—how shall I make a living? |
| 日譯： | 暫無日譯內容 |