| 題名： | 送陳章甫 |
| 作者： | 李頎 |
| 四月南風大麥黃， 棗花未落桐陰長。 青山朝別暮還見， 嘶馬出門思舊鄉。 陳侯立身何坦蕩， 虬鬚虎眉仍大顙。 腹中貯書一萬卷， 不肯低頭在草莽。 東門酤酒飲我曹， 心輕萬事皆鴻毛。 醉臥不知白日暮， 有時空望孤雲高。 長河浪頭連天黑， 津口停舟渡不得。 鄭國遊人未及家， 洛陽行子空歎息。 聞道故林相識多， 罷官昨日今如何。 | |
| 英譯： |
IN the fourth month the south wind ripens the yellow grain
The date flower has not yet fallen, the Wu-t'ung leaves are growing;
In the morning we leave the blue hills
In the evening we see them in the distance.
Hearing a horse neigh a traveller's thoughts turn to his old home.
The Marquis Ch'ên—what a fine figure is he!
His dragon beard, his tiger eyebrows adorn a lofty forehead.
In his belly is stored the learning of a thousand volumes.
How can such as he live in retirement?
At the Eastern Gate he buys wine to pledge us
His heart is light, affairs of the world seem to him like a wild goose feather.
Day has turned to night while he was drunk and asleep,
Sometimes he stares vacantly at a passing cloud high above.
The great river billows reflect the black sky,
The officer in charge of the ferry station stops his craft and cannot venture forth.
The traveller from the kingdom of Ch’ên cannot return home
The voyager from Lo-yang sighs in vain.
I have heard that in your native country you had a host of friends;
Yesterday you gave up your official position;
To-day how many of them remain?
In the Fourth-month the south wind blows plains of vellow barley, Date-flowers have not faded yet and lakka-leaves are long. The green peak that we left at dawn we still can see at evening, While our horses whinny on the road, eager to turn homeward. ...Ch'ên, my friend, you have always been a good man, With your dragon's moustache, tiger's eyebrows and your massive forehead. In your bosom you have shelved away ten thousand volumes. You have held your head high, never bowed it in the dust. ...After buying us wine and pledging us, here at the eastern gate, And taking things as lightly as a wildgoose feather, Flat you lie, tipsy, forgetting the white sun; But now and then you open your eyes and gaze at a high lone cloud. ...The tide-head of the long river joins the darkening sky. The ferryman beaches his boat. It has grown too late to sail. And people on their way from Chêng cannot go home, And people from Lo-yang sigh with disappointment. ...I have heard about the many friends around your woodland dwelling. Yesterday you were dismissed. Are they your friends today? In May, barley turns yellow; south winds are strong. Date flowers unfallen; tung leaves have become long. Green hills one bade farewell to, at early morn – One can still see when the day is about gone. In a journey – on the road – the sound of neighs – Sets a person thinking of his native place. 0 Dragon-whiskered and tiger-browed, with forehead wide, You've a large heart, where in for Wisdom to reside. Your profound knowledge comes from many a source; You wouldn't bow to any treatment, smooth or coarse. At the East Gate, you treat us to good wine and food. Nothing – weighty enough to press your buoyant mood. Drunk, asleep, you don't know the day has breathed its last. Sometimes, you gaze blankly on a cloud, flying past. Crests appeared on the Yangtze against a black sky. "No traffic, today", was the ferry-master's cry. Your arrival home must have been delayed, indeed. Futile regret was mine, as I wished you godspeed. You've many friends in the place, where you used to stay. Dismissed yesterday, how are you faring today? Trnaslation> The fourth month, and there’s a southern breeze on the yellow barley; The date palm flowers have yet to fall and the tung tree leaves grow long. The green hills you so recently left you’ll soon be seeing again; Your horses neigh as they set off, intent on going home. Dear Marquis Chen, you carry yourself with such a composed air, With your curling whiskers and strong brows and your expansive forehead. Stored away inside of you there are thousands of written works, So you will not readily bury your head among the common people. At the east gate you purchase ale and present us all with drinks; You seem lighthearted, all jour concerns weighing no more than a feather. You lie back in a drunken state, unaware that the sun is setting, Sometimes gazing vacantly at solitary clouds on high. The waves of the long river meet with the dark of the sky; At the ferry the boats have stopped, with no way to get across – So the wanderer from the state of Zheng has yet to make it home, While those who have travelled from Luoyang heave an empty sigh. I’ve heard that back home in the countryside you know a lot of people; Given you have just lost your job, I wonder how things will be now. The barley turns yellow as southern winds of the fourth month blow; Date blossoms are yet to fall while lush the Wutong leaves grow. The blue mountain we left at dawn is again seen at eve; Our horses neighed as we set off recalling our homes of long ago. Sir, how noble is your bearing, how broad your mind! You've curling whiskers and tiger brows and your forehead's wide. Inside your belly, ten thousand volumes you keep ─ You won't lower yourself in the countryside. By the east gate, wine for us you used to buy; Carefree, worldly affairs were light as feather to your eye. Lying drunk, you knew not dusk had come; At times, you stared blankly at the solitary clouds on high. Rolling waves of the Yellow River joined with the darkened sky; Ferry officials stopped the boats suspending river-crossing thereby. The traveller from Zheng is not yet home: The guest of Luoyang vainly heaves a sigh. I heard back home you've many friends, After quitting your job yesterday, what are your plans? |
| 日譯： | 暫無日譯內容 |