| 題名： | 青谿 |
| 作者： | 王維 |
| 言入黃花川， 每逐青谿水。 隨山將萬轉， 趣途無百里。 聲喧亂石中， 色靜深松裏。 漾漾汎菱荇， 澄澄映葭葦。 我心素已閑， 清川澹如此。 請留盤石上， 垂釣將已矣。 | |
| 英譯： |
IT is said that those who make for the Yellow Flower River
Must pursue this blue mountain stream;
And follow a myriad twists and turns among the hill ravines
Although as the crow flies the distance is less than a hundred miles.
The stream bickers among the pebbles and $((under))$ the deep tranquil green of the pines,
Here broadening out to allow the water chestnut and water gentian to float on its surface,
And there glistening deep and bright among reeds and rushes.
I am by temperament indolent and slothful
And how much more by this restful clear stream;
Leave me to ponder on the hermit's rock
For there dangling a fishing rod I am entirely content.
EVERY time I have started for the Yellow Flower River, I have gone down the Blue-Green Stream, Following the hills, making ten thousand turnings. We go along rapidly, but advance scarcely one hundred li. We are in the midst of a noise of water, Of the confused and mingled sounds of water broken by stones, And in the deep darkness of pine-trees. Rocked, rocked, Moving on and on, We float past water-chestnuts Into a still clearness reflecting reeds and rushes. My heart is clean and white as silk; it has already achieved Peace; It is smooth as the placid river. I long to stay here, curled up on the rocks, Dropping my fish-line forever. I have sailed the River of Yellow Flowers, Borne by the channel of a green stream, Rounding ten thousand turns through the mountains On a journey of less than thirty miles.... Rapids hum over heaped rocks; But where light grows dim in the thick pines, The surface of an inlet sways with nut-horns And weeds are lush along the banks. ... Down in my heart I have always been as pure As this limpid water is.... Oh, to remain on a broad flat rock And to cast a fishing-line forever! To get to the Yellow Flower River I always follow the green water stream Among the hills there must be a thousand twists The distance there cannot be fifty miles There is the murmur of water among rocks And the quietness of colours deep in pines Lightly lightly drifting watet-chestnuts Clearly clearly mirrored reeds and rushes I have always been a lover of tranquillity And when I see this clear stream so calm I want to stay on some great rock And fish for ever on and on. Whenever to Yellow Flower River I go, I track along Green Stream, which through the dales does flow. Less than one hundred li, it's not a longish run, But round the mountains for ten thousand times I'd turn. Among the jumbly gravels the stream gurgles forward; From the thick pines in quiet colours the stream is covered. It ripples the water caltrops and floating hearts; The hosts of reeds in the glazy mirror look smart. My soul has long become an unfettered realm; And how serene and peaceful is the limpid stream! Let me remain here on the boulder in the nook, To spend the rest of my life with a rod and hook. Into the Yellow Flower Rill Driving the water of Green Stream. Along the mountains a million turns: To go straight—not even a hundred miles. Clamors stir among rocks thrown about. Color stills itself among thickset pines. Drift-drift, over water-chestnuts and weeds. Clear clear reflecting reeds. My heart always pure and plain; Likewise, the clear rill. Why not stay with these rocks And cast my fishing line here all the time? |
| 日譯： | 暫無日譯內容 |