| 題名： | 山石 |
| 作者： | 韓愈 |
| 山石犖確行徑微， 黃昏到寺蝙蝠飛。 升堂坐階新雨足， 芭蕉葉大支子肥。 僧言古壁佛畫好， 以火來照所見稀。 鋪牀拂席置羹飯， 疎糲亦足飽我飢。 夜深靜臥百蟲絕， 清月出嶺光入扉。 天明獨去無道路， 出入高下窮煙霏。 山紅澗碧紛爛漫， 時見松櫪皆十圍。 當流赤足蹋澗石， 水聲激激風吹衣。 人生如此自可樂， 豈必局束爲人鞿。 嗟哉吾黨二三子， 安得至老不更歸。 | |
| 英譯： |
THE mountain boulders reveal the faint impression of a dangerous and rugged path;
In the yellow dusk I come on a monastery,
The bats wheel around me
As I sit on the steps of the main hall.
The freshly fallen rain has just ceased
The leaves of the plantain are now fully spread,
The gardenia buds are bursting.
The monk tells me the Buddhist frescoes are good;
He brings a torch to light them for me,
But what is seen is faint.
He spreads out the bed and stakes down the mat,
He sets out soup and rice, coarse yet ample enough to satisfy my hunger.
The night is dark and I rest in peace,
All the insects go to rest;
A clear moon rises above the mountain and shines in through the door.
At earliest dawn under bright heavens I go on my way alone,
I cannot see my path $((because it is so early))$
Now losing it, now striking it again,
Stumbling and recovering, lost in mist and haze.
The hills are bathed in red, the mountain streams show blue;
Numerous (streams) sparkle and meander on their way;
From time to time I see pine and oak ten spans round,
When my path crosses a stream I wade over the stones with bare feet;
The sound of the water tinkles in my ears,
The wind blows through my clothes,
If only life were always like this―how happy man might be!
Why must the affairs of men bind him as it were with bit and bridle?
I would say to my friends
How can I not wish to grow old here and why should I return home?
Rough were the mountain-stones, and the path very narrow; And when I reached the temple, bats were in the dusk. I climbed to the hall, sat on the steps, and drank the rain-washed air Among the round gardenia-pods and huge banana-leaves. On the old wall, said the priest, were Buddhas finely painted, And he brought a light and showed me, and I called them won-derful. He spread the bed, dusted the mats, and made my supper ready, And, though the food was coarse, it satisfied my hunger. At midnight, while I lay there not hearing even an insect, The mountain moon with her pure light entered my door.... At dawn I left the mountain and, alone, lost my way: In and out, up and down, while a heavy mist Made brook and mountain green and purple, brightening every-thing. I am passing sometimes pines and oaks, which ten men could not girdle, I am treading pebbles barefoot in swift-running water— Its ripples purify my ear, while a soft wind blows my gar-ments.... These are the things which, in themselves, make life happy. Why should we be hemmed about and hampered with people? O chosen pupils, far behind me in my own country, What if I spent my old age here and never went back home? Mountain rocks here are jagged and craggy. The paths are narrow; difficult to tread. When we arrived at the abbey at eve, Many bats were fluttering overhead. As we ascended the steps and sat there, Our feet were already wet with rain. The leaves of the plantain were very large. Luxuriant grew the elecampane. The monks said that the murals of Buddha – Are done with extreme skill and minute care. They brought a lamp to illuminate them. As specimens of such art, they are rare. We were invited to stay overnight. Beds were provided; a table was spread. Though it was coarse rice and vegetables, We're satisfied with being fully fed. In the quiet of the night, we reclined. Insect of any kind, we heard no more. The bright moon rose out of the mountain; Approached and even penetrated the door. When morning arrived, we left the abbey. But which way to go, we were in a maze. Up and down rough terrain, we forged ahead, Still in the midst of enveloping haze. The mountain is red; the brooks are verdant. Between them was colorful interplay. At times, I saw pines and oaks of such girth – It'd take tem men to gird it the whole way. When we reached places where there was water, We went in and touched bottom with bare feet. We enjoyed hearing the water rushing on, Wind filling out our robes like flowing sheet. Life can be happy with such for pleasure. Why be close-confined like lambs in a fold? Alas! Indeed, people like us, two or three! Couldn't we return home before we get old? The mountain rocks were jagged and strange; a narrow path led through. At twilight I reached the monastery as bats came flying around. I climbed to the hall and sat on the steps; with plenty of recent rain The plantain leaves were growing large, the gardenias full and fine. A monk praised paintings of the Buddha on the ancient walls, And brought a torch to light them up, though they were hard to see. He rolled out a bed, brushed a mat and set out soup and food – The coarse rice was quite enough to satisfy my hunger. Deep in the night I lay in the quiet, all the insects still, And out of the ranges a clear moon came and shone through my door. When daylight came I went alone on a route without a path, In and out, high and low, to the ends of the spreading mists, Across red mountains and azure streams in brilliant disarray, And sometimes into sight of a pine or an oak tree ten spans round. When I came to a mountain stream I walked barefoot on its stones, The water splashing noisily, my gown billowing in the wind. Life is just so easy to love when it is like this, Without the need to be kept in check, and under others’ control. How, oh how can my little group of trusty friends and I Get to reach old age and not come back to this again! |
| 日譯： | 暫無日譯內容 |