| 題名： | 石壕吏 |
| 作者： | 杜甫 |
| 暮投石壕邨， 有吏夜捉人。 老翁踰牆走， 老婦出門看。 吏呼一何怒， 婦啼一何苦。 聽婦前致詞， 三男鄴城戍。 一男附書致， 二男新戰死。 存者且偷生， 死者長已矣。 室中更無人， 惟有乳下孫。 有孫母未去， 出入無完帬。 老嫗力雖衰， 請從吏夜歸。 急應河陽役， 猶得備晨炊。 夜久語聲絕， 如聞泣幽咽。 天明登前途， 獨與老翁別。 | |
| 英譯： |
There, where at eve I sought a bed,
A pressgang came, recruits to hunt;
Over the wall the goodman sped,
And left his wife to bear the brunt.
Ah me! the cruel serjeant's rage!
Ah me! how sadly she anon
Told all her story's mournful page, —
How three sons to the war had gone;
How one had sent a line to say
That two had been in battle slain:
He, from the fight had run away,
But they could ne'er come back again.
She swore 'twas all the family —
Except a grandson at the breast;
His mother too was there, but she
Was all in rags and tatters drest.
The crone with age was troubled sore,
But for herself she'd not think twice
To journey to the seat of war
And help to cook the soldier's rice.
The night wore on and stopped her talk;
Then sobs upon my hearing fell.....
At dawn when I set forth to walk,
Only the goodman cried Farewell!
At sunset in the village of Che-Kao I sought for shelter; on my heels there trod A grim recruiting sergeant, of the kind That seize their prey by night. A poor old man Saw—scaled the wall, and vanished. Through the gate An old bent woman hobbled, and she marched A pace before him. Loudly in his wrath The grim recruiter stormed; and bitterly She answered: "Listen to the voice of her Who drags before you. Once I had three sons— Three in the Emperor's camp. A letter came From one, and -- there was one; the others fell In the same battle -- he alone was left, Scarce able from the iron grasp of Death To tear his miserable life. Alas My two dead boys! for ever and for aye Death holds them. In our wretched hut remains The last of all the men—a little child, Still at his mother's breast. She cannot flee, Since her few tatters scarce suffice to clothe Her shrunken limbs. My years are nearly done, My strength is well-nigh spent; yet I will go Readily to the camping-ground. Perchance I may be useful for some humble task, To cook the rice or stir the morning meal." ...... Night slipped away. The clamour and the cries Died down; but there was weeping and the sound Of stifled moans around me. At the break Of dawn I hurried on my road, and left None but an old and broken man behind. At sunset in the village of Che-Kao I sought for shelter; on my heels there trod A grim recruiting sergeant, of the kind That seize their prey by night. A poor old man Saw—scaled the wall, and vanished. Through the gate An old bent woman hobbled, and she marched A pace before him. Loudly in his wrath The grim recruiter stormed; and bitterly She answered: “Listen to the voice of her Who drags before you. Once I had three sons— Three in the Emperor's camp. A letter came From one, and—there was one; the others fell In the same battle—he alone was left, Scarce able from the iron grasp of Death To tear his miserable life. Alas My two dead boys! for ever and for aye Death holds them. In our wretched hut remains The last of all the men—a little child, Still at his mother's breast. She cannot flee, Since her few tatters scarce suffice to clothe Her shrunken limbs. My years are nearly done, My strength is well-nigh spent; yet I will go Readily to the camping-ground. Perchance I may be useful for some humble task, To cook the rice or stir the morning meal.” · · · · · · Night slipped away. The clamour and the cries Died down; but there was weeping and the sound Of stifled moans around me. At the break Of dawn I hurried on my road, and left None but an old and broken man behind. At evening I sought a lodging in Shih-kno. There came a recruiting-sergeant to the house. The old man jumped over a wall and hid; The old woman went to open the door. The sergeant shouted, oh! how angrily! The woman wept, oh! how bitterly!─ "Listen to the words of her who stands before you My three sons fought at Yeh Castle. One wrote to say that two were dead. The one that is left only steals life; The two that are dead are gone for ever and ever. In my house there is not a man left. Except my daughter's baby sucking at breast. His mother would have fled, but she's pawned everything, And hadn't enough clothes to leave the house in. I am old, and grown very feeble; But let me come straight away with you. I still might be useful with the army─ To get ready the soldiers' morning rice." Night went on and at last the voices stopped; I thought I heard the sound of stifled sobbing. At day-break I went on my way again; But only the old man saw me off. I SOUGHT a lodging for the night, at sunset, in the Stone Moat Village. Recruiting Officers, who seize people by night, were there. A venerable old man climbed over the wall and fled. An old woman came out of the door and peered. What rage in the shouts of the Recruiting Officers! What bitterness in the weeping of the old woman! I heard the words of the woman as she pled her cause before them: “My three sons are with the frontier guard at Yeh Ch’êng. From one son I have received a letter. A little while ago, two sons died in battle. He who remains has stolen a temporary lease of life; The dead are finished forever. In the house, there is still no grown man, Only my grandson at the breast. The mother of my grandson has not gone, Going out, coming in, she has not a single whole skirt. I am an old, old woman, and my strength is failing, But I beg to go with the Recruiting Officers when they return this night. I will eagerly agree to act as a servant at Ho Yang; I am still able to prepare the early morning meal.” The sound of words ceased in the long night, It was as though I heard the darkness choke with tears. At daybreak, I went on my way, Only the venerable old man was left. The twilight gloamed. At Shih-hao Tsun I stayed. Night soldiers brought the inmates to arrest. The old man leapt the wall and fled affrayed: To meet them issued his old wife distressed. Shouted the soldiers tones in anger strong. The woman's voice was broken with her woe. I heard her say that her three sons had gone To war at Yeh-ch'eng. They were forced to go. That two were dead the last one wrote to say: And he in constant jeopardy, he wrote. Those dead were gone forever. Aye! Aye! Aye! (With what a choke the words tore up her throat.) Within the house there now was no one left— Only her infant grandson at the bereft, In worn and tattered robe was scantly dressed. The poor old soul, enfeebled, aged and worn, Through the dark night must with the soldiers go— Her enemies! With agitation torn, To cook a meal she hurries to and fro. Their voices' sound the lengthening hours consume: And weeping dies in strangling sobs away. The light returns.—As I my road resume, But sad farewells to that old man I say. In Stone-Trench Village, in the eve, I lodge, At midnight come the press-gang while the cotters dodge. I hear the old man climbing o'er the wall, His old wife going to answer the call. How peevishly the cruel officials shout; How sadly the old wife sobs her heart out! And hark to her story, what a pity: "My three sons have gone to guard Ye City. One of them recently wrote me a letter, Telling that two brothers were killed in a battle. The living has his life but for the present; The dead ones are fore'er from the world absent! In our home there's no man among the rest, Except a grandson still sucking at the breast. His mother is with us, but can't guest you, As she has only a shabby skirt to show. I, an old women, am too weak to fight, Still I'd like to go with you, sirs, to-night. Hurrying on to Heyang for the service, I may cook breakfast in time for the soldiers." Her voice fades away as the night deepens; It seems to linger in the air—her weepings. At day-break, further on my way I'd ply, To the old man alone I bid good-bye! In Stone-Ditch Village, in the eve, I lodge, At midnight come the seizers while the cotters dodge. I hear the old man climbing o'er the wall, His old wife going to answer the call. How peevishly the cruel officials shout, How sadly the old wife sobs her heart out! And hark to her story, what a pity: "My three sons have gone to guard Ye City. "One of them recently wrote me a letter, "Telling that two brothers were killed in a battle. "The living has his life but for the present, "The dead ones are fore'er from the world absent! "In our home there's no man among the rest, "Except a grandson still sucking at the breast. "His mother is with us, but can't guest you, "As she has only a shabby skirt to show. "I, an old woman, am too weak to fight, "Still l'd like to go with you, sir, to-night. "Hurrying on to Heyang for the service, "I may cook breakfast in time for soldiers." Her voice fades away as the night deepens, It seems to linger in the air ─ her weepings. At day-break, further on my way l'd ply, To the old man alone I bid good-bye. |
| 日譯： | 暫無日譯內容 |