| 題名： | 贈衛八處士 |
| 作者： | 杜甫 |
| 人生不相見， 動如參與商。 今夕復何夕， 共此燈燭光。 少壯能幾時， 鬢髮各已蒼。 訪舊半爲鬼， 驚呼熱中腸。 焉知二十載， 重上君子堂。 昔別君未婚， 兒女忽成行。 怡然敬父執， 問我來何方。 問荅乃未已， 兒女羅酒漿。 夜雨剪春韭， 新炊間黃粱。 主稱會面難， 一舉累十觴。 十觴亦不醉， 感子故意長。 明日隔山岳， 世事兩茫茫。 | |
| 英譯： |
FRIENDSHIPS are made only to be broken.
Orion far from Lucifer must shine.
Strange to-night of all nights
We should $((sit))$ together by the light of the same candle.
Youth and strength, how long do they last?
My beard and hair are both already grizzled.
Visiting ancient friends I find half of them among the ghosts,
But now I meet you my heart is warmed.
How was I to know that I should have to wait twenty years
Before I could revisit your home?
When we last parted you were not married;
Now all of a sudden I find you with a family of sons and daughters;
Politely and with looks of pleasure they wait on their father's old friend
Asking me from where I come.
We have not yet come to the end of our questions and answers,
(When) you bid the youngsters bring wine and set it before us.
Spring onions are cut in the evening rain
And are cooked fresh with yellow millet.
The host discourses of how difficult it is to bring about a meeting
And pledges me again and again;
Even after ten cups we are not drunk
Only we have become sentimental over our reminiscences.
To-morrow the Western Hills will divide us,
And the affairs of the world
Will make us dim to each other.
It is almost as hard for friends to meet As for the morning and evening stars. Tonight then is a rare event, Joining, in the candlelight, Two men who were young not long ago But now are turning grey at the temples. ... To find that half our friends are dead Shocks us, burns our hearts with grief. We little guessed it would be twenty years Before I could visit you again. When I went away, you were still unmarried; But now these boys and girls in a row Are very kind to their father's old friend. They ask me where I have been on my journey; And then, when we have talked awhile, They bring and show me wines and dishes, Spring chives cut in the night-rain And brown rice cooked freshly a special way. ... My host proclaims it a festival, He urges me to drink ten cups— But what ten cups could make me as drunk As I always am with your love in my heart? ... Tomorrow the mountains will separate us; After tomorrow—who can say? The lives of many men are Shorter than the years since we have Seen each other. Aldebaran And Antares move as we have. And now, what night is this? We sit Here together in the candle Light. How much longer will our prime Last? Our temples are already Grey. I visit my old friends. Half of them have become ghosts. Fear and sorrow choke me and burn My bowels. I never dreamed I would Come this way, after twenty years, A wayfarer to your parlor. When we parted years ago. You were unmarried. Now you have A row of boys and girls, who smile And ask me about my travels. How have I reached this time and place? Before I can come to the end Of an endless tale, the children Have brought out the wine. We go Out in the night and cut young Onions in the rainy darkness. We eat them with hot, steaming, Yellow millet. You say, "It is Sad, meeting each other again." We drink ten toasts rapidly from The rhinoceros horn cups. Ten cups, and still we are not drunk. We still love each other as We did when we were schoolboys. Tomorrow morning mountain peaks Will come between us, and with them The endless, oblivious Business of the world. Like stars that rarely see each other In life we do not often meet. What eve is this that brings us now together Where these bright candles greet? Our youth, our strength, alas! how soon depart! Our beards, our hair are streaked with flecks of grey. Of friends we visit, half have passed away: The sudden news catches the thrilling heart. How tell that twenty years would first be sped Ere I again should enter in your Hall? For when I left you, you were still unwed. Lo! now your boys and girls are growing tall. Their father's ancient friend with pleasure see, And whence I hither came inquire of me. Unfinished question and reply remain. Your children come to set the broth and wine. A turnip fresh cut after last night's rain, And steaming rice so fine. Then says the host: "When shall we meet once more?" With goblets ten he pledges me again. Ten goblets leave me sober as before, So deep my grateful memories him retain. To-morrow—by the cragged hills disparted, Unconscious of each other widely parted! How rarely in life we do meet together, Morning and Evening Stars too, miss each other. Ah, what a happy night it is tonight, We sit, face to face, in the candle light! How many days one can claim young and sound? On our temples much grey hair can be found. Half of our friends have given up the ghost, I cry, when I visit them, my bowels roast. I never expected twenty years have fled Before I come again to your homestead. You were unmarried the day I left erstwhile, Your sons and daughters now stand in a file. They gladly greet their father's bosom friend, And ask me if I've come from a strange land. We are busy in our conversation While wine and all are in preparation. The leeks are cut in the spring night, raining; The meal with yellow millet is hot steaming. My host says it is very hard to meet, Raising ten times his goblet to greet. It does not make me drunk even quaffing ten, Owing to my grateful heart can I sustain. Tomorrow, betwixt us the mountain will intrude; We'll each be lost in the vastness of the world! How rarely in life do we meet together; Morning and Evening stars too, miss each other. Ah, what a happy night it is tonight, We sit, face to face, in the candle light! How many days one can claim young and sound? On our temples much grey hair can be found. Half of our friends have given up the ghost, I cry, when I visit them, my bowels roast. I never expected twenty years have fled Before I come again to your homestead. You were unmarried the day I left erstwhile, Your sons and daughters now stand in a file. They gladly greet their father's bosom friend, And ask me if I've come from a strange land. We are busy in our conversation While wine and all are in preparation. The leeks are cut in the spring night, raining, The meal with yellow millet is hot steaming. My host says it is very hard to meet, Raising ten times his goblet to greet. It does not make me drunk even quaffing ten, Owing to my grateful heart can I sustain. Tomorrow, betwixt us the mountain will intrude; We'll each be lost in the vastness of the world! |
| 日譯： | 暫無日譯內容 |